The Fates (Book I) - 2014 Watty Award Winner!

5.3 - Sleepless

Dear Readers: Let's head back to Athens on the first morning of the Campions' honeymoon, and maybe get a little glimpse of Lacey's powers in the modern day...

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Scene 3: Sleepless

A.D. 2015

Married. She was married, truly married, to the man who lay beside her in the bed. The beautiful truth filled her mind as she batted her eyes with the first breath of morning. Waking up for the first time as his bride, in their honeymoon suite, bathed in sunlight that seemed nearly bright enough to lift the darkness of her doubts before this day.

No more doubt. No more darkness. Not today; not ever. There were not one but two rings now upon her finger. Never mind that Ryder’s ring finger was bare. Though she’d removed the ring for him last night, that didn’t mean that she’d removed what it still signified. It was a silly metal thing, worth so much less than what it meant—and what it meant was here to stay. Ever after, beginning today.

Lacey lay upon her back, when she awoke; she presently shifted, turning her head upon the pillow to regard the rugged landscape of his shoulder blades. The ridges of bone and the broad planes of muscle, framing the firm line of his spine, which was facing her now. She always admired the view—it was the sight that greeted her, most mornings in whatever bed they shared, whenever she was first to wake. She had grown to stop feeling too sad about that, as the years had gone by. It wasn’t up to Ryder, after all, the way his body turned when he was fast asleep. Wasn’t as if he chose to turn his back to her.

Part of her wanted to reach out now and embrace him. Yet a more powerful part did not desire to wake him up. Not yet. It always felt much easier to be happy when his eyes were closed; the dark blue of his gaze, however beauteous and beloved it might be, scared her a bit. The way she drowned in it. The way she lost all sense of self inside that bay. It wasn’t so much that she feared losing herself in him—she freely let his eyes, his soul, engulf her every time. For that was love. She loved the feeling. What she feared, whenever she willingly drowned in his bay-blues, was doubting whether those depths welcomed her. Whether he wanted her there.

So it was easier to believe that she belonged beside him, here and now as he was sleeping. She did not need to disturb whatever dreams he might be having at the moment. Nor her own, as she stared blankly at his backbone, wide awake but deeply dreaming all the same.

Lacey carefully rose up onto an elbow, looking down upon his profile. He looked peaceful. Almost happy, though there was no smile to show for it. He seemed to be smiling inside his sleeping mind. It briefly broke her heart to think that Ryder’s dreams right now might be more blissful than the married life to which he would wake up. The bed felt suddenly uncomfortable and dirty at the thought.

She slipped out from under the sheets, crossing the room toward the vanity to touch up her makeup, so that the wife to whom he woke would look as pretty and pristine as possible.

He was still sleeping, when she’d finished freshening up. Of course he was. The alarm clock on the nightstand proclaimed just past seven. They’d stayed up till midnight discussing their island itinerary, and she was certain that he’d tossed and turned, sleepless for several hours more in bed after they’d settled in together. After the session they had shared, which had seemed like obligatory intimacy for Ryder, this being the first night of their honeymoon and all.

Then again, she reflected, it felt that way each and every time they tried. It never ended well. He rarely reached release with her, not even when his eyes were closed. Of course that made it difficult for her to find her own crescendo, when his was so faraway. Lacey could at least pretend, though—a much harder task for him. She usually indulged in the charade when Ryder’s groans started to turn from tense to downright tortured, to put him out of his misery. And once she faked it, they would promptly stop; he’d kiss her on the forehead; and they both would try and fail awhile to fall asleep. It was routine. They’d gotten used to it and almost acted as if it were normal now.