Love Against All Odds

Zoe - Morning Bliss

The morning light seeped through the curtains; I stirred from my slumber to find Oskar nestled behind me, his strong arm draped over my waist. It was a comforting feeling, one I could easily grow accustomed to. Something about waking up to Oskar's embrace made me feel at peace, as if the world outside our cocoon didn't matter.

I couldn't help but notice how much better I slept with him beside me. Initially, it struck me as odd, but I didn't dwell on it too much. Instead, I let out a contented sigh, relishing in the moment's warmth.

A delightful soreness between my legs reminded me of the passionate night—or the early morning hours—we had shared.

Oskar possessed an almost ravenous appetite.

We would lose ourselves in each other, consumed by a passion that knew no bounds. And when we had caught our breaths, savouring the sweet aftermath of our fervour, he would pounce on me again, his hunger for me insatiable. It was as if he couldn't bear to be apart from me for even a moment, his need for my touch driving him to seek me out with a primal urgency that left me breathless and utterly surrendered to his embrace.

I hadn't intended to abandon all restraint. But, there was an undeniable allure in how Oskar held and looked at me.

"Take your hair down, bella," he had whispered to me.

My grasp of Italian was rudimentary, but I knew enough to understand that "bella" meant beautiful. It wasn't the first time he had called me that, but when he did, it felt different. He spoke with a sincerity that resonated deep within me, as the word was infused with genuine emotion. And strangely enough, I found myself drawn to it, to his Italian charm.

He often called me "Principessa", his mother's tongue, which stirred something within me each time. It felt like I belonged to a world where such endearments were commonplace. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would swoon at the sound of a male calling me beautiful in Italian.

But then again, Oskar was no ordinary male.

With the strength and determination of a true warrior, he had held the skies to thwart my father's plans, displaying a courage and resolve that few could match. He possessed the wisdom to understand that only Artemis could ultimately defeat Atlas, my father.

In his relentless pursuit of victory, he had faced and conquered formidable foes, such as Antaeus, with a skill and prowess that spoke volumes of his capabilities.

Even when confronted with nature's wrath, Oskar emerged unscathed, having survived the fury of a volcano with a resilience that defied explanation. Though I begrudgingly admitted it, he fought well, his prowess in battle matched only by his indomitable spirit. He was undeniably formidable with his command over vitakinesis and shadow travel, abilities that marked him as a force to be reckoned with. Yet, deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that these powers were merely a glimpse of the true extent of Oskar's capabilities. It was as if he possessed a reservoir of untapped potential, a wellspring of power waiting to be unleashed.

I turned to look at him, sleeping peacefully beside me despite my movement. Gods, he was handsome. His features softened in repose, and I couldn't help but admire him. Yes, his looks certainly added to the attraction, but they were not the sole reason I was drawn to him. There was something more, something that transcended mere physical appearance. It was the strength of his character, the depth of his soul, that truly captivated me.

Oskar's eyes remained closed, yet his voice reached me in a whisper, "Why don't you take a photo, bella? It'll last longer."

I bit my lip, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through me. "Speak more Italian," I urged.