Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“At any rate”—in typical god-like fashion, he dismisses everything I said—“just keep looking for familiar things.”
I decide to say nothing. Eros is Eros. A switch-up in scenery and hiding his wings and bow aren’t enough to intrinsically change who and what he is.
“Get back up on the beast.” He reaches for my knee and I jump up, letting him lift me up so I can swing my leg over the pegásius’s back. Then he puts his foot in the stirrup and slides his leg carefully between me and the animal’s thick, crested neck, settling into the saddle in front of me.
This is when I get a really good look at his tattoos. Actually, one large tattoo. It’s a tree, which I knew. I’ve been looking at his bare chest and back for nearly two months now. But up until now I wasn’t able to read the writing on the boughs and now I can. They are names, I think. “What is going on with this tattoo of yours?”
He’s looking off into the distance, pretending to be interested in anything but my question.
“Eros?”
“What?”
“Your tattoos?”
“What about them?”
“What do they mean?”
“They’re a fuckin’ pedigree, Callistina. Tying me to every god and goddess in all four pantheons.”
“Oh. Like a…”
“Curse?” he finishes for me. “Yes. It’s like a curse.” Then, without another word, he clicks his tongue and the beast starts forward again.
It’s certainly not the beginning I’d imagined. And my traveling partner could be better in all sorts of ways. But nonetheless, it is the fresh start I was craving and finally, the unbearable stagnation is over.
Or… maybe not.
We travel slowly all day, not even stopping to eat, and the road just keeps going, and going, and going. It all looks the same, as well. For a couple of hours, I’ve convinced myself that we’re traveling a loop that has no end. But it only takes a little concentration to realize that’s not the case. Or, at the very least, we haven’t gotten to the end of the loop and started over again, because I do see some very unique—some might even call them peculiar—rock outcroppings as my gaze wanders looking for water or signs that this is Vinca.
One such rock formation is in the shape of an arch. It’s all the way across the steep-sided valley on the top of a mountain. I watch it for hours and finally I’m rewarded when the sun begins to set and it’s centered right in the middle, shining bright light across the canyon and onto a massive expanse of flat, red rock, making shadow play across the ancient megalith. It’s an oval, but there are geometrical shapes popping off the outer edges that remind me of handmade Vincan lace.
I let my eyes close and lean my cheek against Eros’s sweaty back, feeling a weird sort of satisfaction that I got to figure that arch out before it disappears behind us. But then Eros pulls the beast up, shaking me off of him—which elicits embarrassment on my part. Resting my cheek against his bare skin. What was I thinking? He probably thinks I’m falling in love with him like everyone else in his life.
“Finally,” he says. Tersely, I might add. “Water. Look.”
And sure enough, when my gaze follows his pointing finger, there’s a trickle of water running down the mountain nearby.
“Where is it coming from?” I ask.
We both tip our heads up, trying to see the top of the mountain. He has to back the beast up because it’s hidden by the rocks, but eventually we find the snow cap at the top.
“Mystery solved,” I say, then scoot back, get my leg between us so I can get down, and jump. This time without help. My legs are weak from sitting all day, and sore from riding. So I groan, stretching one long leg out all the way down to my clawed toes.
Eros gets down too. He offers me a look that could be a smile, or possibly a scowl—it’s hard to tell. Then he takes the beast’s bridle off and leads it over to the little pool that has formed from the waterfall. It’s bigger than a puddle, but not by much. It overflows quickly, even though the waterfall is a trickle, and spills over the side of some rocks, disappearing into the ground.
The pegásius drinks the whole puddle, then waits patiently for it to fill up again.
Eros takes the skins out and hands me one. “Drink it all. Then we can refill them.”
I take the water and do as I’m told. Not because he told me to, but because I’m actually parched. The sun has gone behind the mountains now so we’re deep in shadow. But the entire mountain seems to be radiating heat, like it’s a sink that acts like a reservoir for the sun, so while the shadow does cool the air, it’s a nice comfortable temperature even though I’m wearing nothing but silver chains and velvet fur.