road in the morning.”
Isi smiled. “Thank you, K’eyush.”
She took Afon’s hand and walked from the room with him.
As they headed up the stairs, Isi’s fingers began lightly moving over the tender skin on the palm of Afon’s hand. The rhythmic motion of her fingertips rekindled the cauldron of emotions that had been bubbling inside of him, since right before Mortterra’s thugs had shown up.
He wanted Isi, but he wanted her with a fierceness that was unknown to their relationship. He wanted to drive Henry Ford from her mind, he wanted to own Isi’s body and leave part of himself on every square inch of her, he wanted to mark his territory and claim what was his, before he left tomorrow … and left Isi to another man.
In truth, Afon had always wondered if he too was just a temporary installation in Isi’s life, a station stop on a longer journey that she must make all alone. For him, she was the end of all journeys, the answer to every question he had ever asked.
At the top of the stairs, he let go of all restraint and took Isi’s face in his hands. He held her, the tips of his fingers pressed into her cheekbones, and he tilted her head back forcefully. Then, ever so gently, he touched his lips to hers. He did not kiss her, he did not move. They stood, face-to-face, lips meeting with only the faintest whisper of a touch, and the electricity generated by their proximity began to take visible shape … a shimmering white light in the small space between them.
Isi tried to get closer, and pressed herself into Afon with a hungry urgency. He pulled away, and told her to open her eyes.
A light emanated from deep within Isi, poured out of her, and wrapped itself around Afon.
Isi blinked in shock, “What the …”
The light snapped back, recoiled inside of her, and disappeared.
“Don’t question it Isi,” Afon said.
She bent herself back into him, closed her eyes, and rubbed her lips down the side of his neck. One hand nimbly addressed the buttons of the shirt that stood in her way, then her mouth moved down to his collarbone, skimmed over the sharp softness, and took in the taste of him.
As she moved her hand down Afon’s smooth chest, Isi felt electricity sparking off of her fingertips. She cracked one eye open.
The light was pouring out of her again, evanescent; it bubbled with electricity and popped with static, every time something inside of her sprang open with desire.
She didn’t want to lose this exquisite feeling, this light, that disappeared when questioned, so Isi nuzzled her face deeper into Afon, breathed him in, and allowed the power of this moment to exist, unchallenged.
FIFTEEN
September 1888
London, England
The sun was blinding, bouncing off of the water of the Thames directly into Afon and Nanook’s eyes. It was a rare sunny day in London, though it was already clouded by great plumes of smoke from the coal that was burned to power the city’s new electric grid.
Nanook’s gaze followed one of the enormous billows of black smoke on its journey skyward, and he watched as it momentarily obscured the sun.
“It has already begun.”
In every molecule of smoke, Nanook could see the future storms. Standing so close to the Thames, his mind could envision the waters rising, taking whole countries in their wake … killing families … his family … his country.
“We can’t stop this, it’s too late,” Nanook said.
Afon reached his arm up to wrap around Nanook’s shoulders.
“Brother, if we stop the gas-powered car, we’ll stop half of the destruction. This?” He gestured at the beginnings of what would come to be known as smog, on the London skyline, “This, nature can take care of on her own.”
Nanook shook his head and his jaw clenched, as he stared into the distance, and watched the beginning of the end of the world.
“Nanook, listen, if we succeed,” Afon said, “I’m not sure how this whole time continuum thing works, but you might
Isi smiled. “Thank you, K’eyush.”
She took Afon’s hand and walked from the room with him.
As they headed up the stairs, Isi’s fingers began lightly moving over the tender skin on the palm of Afon’s hand. The rhythmic motion of her fingertips rekindled the cauldron of emotions that had been bubbling inside of him, since right before Mortterra’s thugs had shown up.
He wanted Isi, but he wanted her with a fierceness that was unknown to their relationship. He wanted to drive Henry Ford from her mind, he wanted to own Isi’s body and leave part of himself on every square inch of her, he wanted to mark his territory and claim what was his, before he left tomorrow … and left Isi to another man.
In truth, Afon had always wondered if he too was just a temporary installation in Isi’s life, a station stop on a longer journey that she must make all alone. For him, she was the end of all journeys, the answer to every question he had ever asked.
At the top of the stairs, he let go of all restraint and took Isi’s face in his hands. He held her, the tips of his fingers pressed into her cheekbones, and he tilted her head back forcefully. Then, ever so gently, he touched his lips to hers. He did not kiss her, he did not move. They stood, face-to-face, lips meeting with only the faintest whisper of a touch, and the electricity generated by their proximity began to take visible shape … a shimmering white light in the small space between them.
Isi tried to get closer, and pressed herself into Afon with a hungry urgency. He pulled away, and told her to open her eyes.
A light emanated from deep within Isi, poured out of her, and wrapped itself around Afon.
Isi blinked in shock, “What the …”
The light snapped back, recoiled inside of her, and disappeared.
“Don’t question it Isi,” Afon said.
She bent herself back into him, closed her eyes, and rubbed her lips down the side of his neck. One hand nimbly addressed the buttons of the shirt that stood in her way, then her mouth moved down to his collarbone, skimmed over the sharp softness, and took in the taste of him.
As she moved her hand down Afon’s smooth chest, Isi felt electricity sparking off of her fingertips. She cracked one eye open.
The light was pouring out of her again, evanescent; it bubbled with electricity and popped with static, every time something inside of her sprang open with desire.
She didn’t want to lose this exquisite feeling, this light, that disappeared when questioned, so Isi nuzzled her face deeper into Afon, breathed him in, and allowed the power of this moment to exist, unchallenged.
FIFTEEN
September 1888
London, England
The sun was blinding, bouncing off of the water of the Thames directly into Afon and Nanook’s eyes. It was a rare sunny day in London, though it was already clouded by great plumes of smoke from the coal that was burned to power the city’s new electric grid.
Nanook’s gaze followed one of the enormous billows of black smoke on its journey skyward, and he watched as it momentarily obscured the sun.
“It has already begun.”
In every molecule of smoke, Nanook could see the future storms. Standing so close to the Thames, his mind could envision the waters rising, taking whole countries in their wake … killing families … his family … his country.
“We can’t stop this, it’s too late,” Nanook said.
Afon reached his arm up to wrap around Nanook’s shoulders.
“Brother, if we stop the gas-powered car, we’ll stop half of the destruction. This?” He gestured at the beginnings of what would come to be known as smog, on the London skyline, “This, nature can take care of on her own.”
Nanook shook his head and his jaw clenched, as he stared into the distance, and watched the beginning of the end of the world.
“Nanook, listen, if we succeed,” Afon said, “I’m not sure how this whole time continuum thing works, but you might
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