The meadows had a refreshing, pleasant odor. In the distant edges of the vast fields, thick brush and forest ruffled leaves in the wind.
He sauntered carelessly around the golden wheat fields along the lower Mediterranean countryside. His face slanted in strong, but lovely angles, like that of a cut gem. His cheeks chiseled and high, sloped down to a low, strong jawbone, and slightly cleft chin. Straight-faced, he ambled, while casually inspecting random heads of golden grain, picking a few, gathering several straws of wheat from open to closed hand at a time.
Round sunglasses, tinted black, with thin, golden rims hid the color of his eyes. His hair, straight and jet-black—not long ago had been much shorter, but now, like a revival, it liberally grew a dab past his ears, and merged with the beginnings of a full beard, concealing his ageless trait.
His attire, unflattering to the strongly toned body hidden behind woven fabric, clothed him in a pair of dismal, black-and-gray-striped wool pants, a plain white t-shirt, and solid black suspenders that elegantly swathed over his shoulders for fashion rather than need.
Beside him, a woman of untamed, classic beauty paced along his leisurely steps.
She seemed about his age, and together they were a stunning pair worthy of pictures in books and magazines, but neither wanted any attention, except for the jealous devotion mutely required from the other with every glance or subtle gaze.
The couple harmoniously strolled without concern through the fields. Hand in hand, they joined and leisurely strolled together.
Just like his, her hair was lush and black, yet despite her best attempts to cover up the past, it grew wildly uncontrolled. Rows of short, frayed ends unevenly sliced into her once flowing, long curls. Now, her hair bore a malicious frazzle, as if hacked off with garden sheers, thus robbing the patent shine of her rich feminine glory.
However, as most things go, it too had begun a restoration, revealing signs of lavish, extended strands of grandeur, budding once more as if new grasses in the spring.
She had a lovely face. One easily picked from out of a crowd. Attractive, she exposed a sparkling set of happy, unpretentious eyes. Her facial features appeared molded, smoothed over by fingers from a lump, into a superbly formed clay vessel, carefully molding her cheeks, nose, and lips from that of an artisan’s pottery wheel. She was the face in a thousand that shone above the rest, with the kind of allure others desired to simply catch a fleeting glimpse.
His eyes naturally drew toward her.
They walked through the quiet, splendid countryside as lovers without a care.
The sun, the moon, the fields, and the tides, all of these were marvels, but to him, they were mere curiosities relative to her loveliness.
He pierced her soul with his musing glance.
She fluttered each time.
It was how every woman wished to be considered. With a simple look, he not only esteemed, but also eyed her girlish majesty with an admired passion. He looked upon her with the same wonder that a man does when he sees his bride dressed in white for the first time. In that moment, she felt loved as if she were the last, and only woman in the world, the only woman that mattered to him, and the only woman worthy of his undivided attention.
Her binary, easy movements made her clothes appear like a second skin. With a double layered, knee-length, pink cotton sundress, she rubbed the broderie trim between her fingertips to remember its feel on this day forever.
Thin spaghetti straps tied firmly up both right and left sides around the nape of her neck. She grabbed his hand, twirling in and away from his steady chest and arms. While he spun her, she giggled, exposing shining white rows of perfectly straight teeth, along with a sudden kiss upon his soft lips.
Into his arms, she fell in a moment of stillness. He dipped her backward, holding both her hand and her midriff in a long pause. The two peered deeply at every inch of the other’s face. Her eyes scurried back and forth between his dark lenses, which hid a most revealing trait, yet reflected only her lone, sumptuous image.
He released her, and the two wandered along without a definite purpose or destination, but with contentment.
The sky was clear and blue, yet wispy beach clouds rode over the vista. The fields were dense, full of golden haze, waist-high and softly forgiving for a stroll or a stride.
The sun showered warmth upon their tender flesh. She brushed her hand along the tops of the wheat, smiling, gazing from side to side, and at him, while taking in all the pleasure she could on such a faultless day.
He plucked some more of the heavy headed wheat, briefly and casually inspecting it, beaming back at her, yet hiding his internal, unsettled disquiet.
Hand in hand, they continued up over the short hill. Their course had corrected to a singular endpoint. They lined a slow march toward the only shelter the fields provided for as far as one could see.
It was a humble abode on top of a small hill.
The cabin’s metal roof covered a solid wooden, modest, but adequate structure as it proudly rested like a palace at the highest mountain peak. It did not boast. It gave only what was needed. Four walls and a couple of windows, but it had a shaded porch, facing west, which captured the solitary, magnificent day’s end that their golden fields and vast panoramic skies offered almost every evening. The young couple stood still, her head rested on his shoulder, as they prized their exquisite kingdom, caressing each other with impassioned intent.
Soon, the embraced lovers entangled as one, hidden beneath the modest shade of their wood cabin.
He held her tightly by the waist and lifted her off the ground until she laughed, begging him for freedom. He abruptly let go, almost throwing her to the ground, but catching her gently, softly lowering her feet upon the trampled patches of grass.
She stumbled backward onto her bottom. Still laughing, she called out to him.
He recklessly threw off his sunglasses somewhere onto the field. He fixated on her. His smile left him, his eyes enlarged, and he sprinted over to where she was.
She reached out and pulled, towing his arm until his body fell down beside her on the cool grass, while lying in the shade of the rustic cabin.
On his side, next to her, he stroked a single lock of hair from off her cheek, placing it behind her ear, kissing her chin in one tender motion. “I…I um…” was all he could utter of the unutterable, which his eyes, linked with hers, had already imparted the rest for this flawless, captured moment.
She arched her back inward, her neck and chin out and up, putting her lips against his, whispering first, “I know…now kiss me, Vincent.” Melding an all-consuming, tender, fleshy link, the two had never been closer to one. They were finally at peace with their choices, innocent choices gone terribly awry, but all the same, choices that had led them to the discovery of each other in this divinely tranquil place.
Vincent flashed a series of confident smirks, followed by a cocky grin. His smile, stunning, he had a gleaming quality, with the rare gift to comfort and assure her that all was well in the world.
A distress that once preoccupied her every thought, was now concealed by a promising freeness, which only her lovely mate had unlocked for both of them.
“Vincent…” She looked deep into his coldly beautiful blue eyes, and with the sun high and bright, he sheltered and cooled her from its pounding heat.
“Yes, Noemi?”
“Promise me that we’ll be together forever.” She cupped both hands on each side of his slanting, gauntly wondrous face.
Vincent curved his brows downward. “Always.”
“And will you always love me?”
His neck sloped downward, stealing a quick taste from her cherry blossom lips. And with her sparkling teeth, she gently held his bottom lip for a moment before playfully letting go.
“I yearn for you, Noemi. Every time I see you, it’s like seeing you for the first time.” A
single arm held Vincent’s body off the ground, horizontal with hers, and his other hand he set across his heart. “I ache when you are not near. I almost lost you once, and that will never happen again.”
Noemi batted her lashes, and turned her head away when Vincent swooped in for another kiss. She beamed, wiggling some, and then she impulsively flipped positions with him.
He was now on his back.
Her dainty wrists pressed hard against his strong hands.
“What’s the matter?” Noemi briefly wedged the tip of her tongue between her lips. “Can’t get up?” she teased.
Vincent thrust the tip of his tongue back out at her. While smirking, he raised his eyebrows, peeking up at each of his covered wrists.
Noemi, skilled at calculating his reactions in advance, giggled once. “Tee-hee.” Her forefinger rubbed his palm.
She acquiesced her grip, sitting level on his stomach. Her body crouched. She bent a little bit forward. With a leg on either side, extending over, across his body, her hair draped toward him, all over his face.
Happy, possessive touching followed.
His fingers ran along the edges of her winding curves. His palms upward, she held out her trembling fingertips flat upon his warm, sturdy hands. He offered a demanding gaze. She was more elusive. Vincent abruptly stood with ease, and cradled Noemi’s back, taking her with him on a dominant rise to his feet. Her legs remained wrapped around his waist. He pressed against her body. Noemi clutched the large muscles in the front of his upper arms. He looked at her figure. She had become very pleasing in form, shape, and in the midsummer sun, color as well. He slid his hand up her thighs, abdomen, and navel. She quivered.
“You excite my feelings.” Vincent huffed, panting, speaking lowly as he rapidly kissed her neck. “You paint my world with the color of your passion.”
Noemi closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Go on,” she said with intoxicated tone. She rubbed her hands through his hair excitedly. She loved his tasteful, sensitive beauty.
His lips locked onto her neck. “You quench all my desires,” he softly said as she pitched her head back, tipping it for his access.
The two vigorously kissed, their tongues converging at the tips, their mouths wandering, and lips brushing soft, moist, warm skin, electrifying a tickled sort of static charge.
A faint aroma of pleasantly scented flowers hovered through the golden fields. The air was fresh and crisp, but patches of warmth gusted in westerly winds.
Zzzz. Bees buzzed, their wings hummed and vibrated from one purple wildflower to the next. Chirr. Crickets sharply peeped as they jumped and hopped sporadically throughout the field. Chitter. Sparrows plunged from the sky, scooping up bugs, before gliding up toward the clouds in an endless display, down, up, and over again. The sparrows tweeted songs to their mates, with harmonious, acoustic notes, and occasionally, entwining as one, circling up in midair with a lover’s swoon.
The heavy arching grains bowed, and scant lavender arose in spurts, rushing past Vincent and Noemi.
The fields had opened themselves.
In the shade of the rustic cabin, the two curiously pondered the other’s thoughts, holding hands, their faces sideways, their eyes inescapably met, their cheeks holding still against the cool grass. Their rapid breaths gradually slowed.
Wherever the sun’s yellowish rays filtered through the white, bloated clouds, it spilt onto the ground, exposing miles of pristine meadows, hay bales, and rows of golden wheat. The fields laid out their bounty for them, baring their singular delight, while fulfilling every immediate earthly desire two lovers could share.
However, not all was right. An irritation crawled under Vincent’s skin. His senses heightened. A disturbing tingle grabbed his attention, diverting it away from their amorous episode, replacing sweet with a dash of bitter.
He stood.
She stood with him.
They both looked in the same direction.
She grabbed his shoulders, hooking her arms up under his. Holding their chests close to one another, she pulled him nearer than he had been before. Her hairline stood at his chin. Noemi enjoyed the majestic vista, yet Vincent watched for something more ominous, something she did not feel, something he had not felt since they arrived in this wonderful place.
“What is it, my dear? What do you see?” Noemi asked with hesitation. Vincent scoured the fields for a sign, a presence, but all seemed calm. “Nothing, I guess it was just a group of birds over there.” He pointed, yet his face belied another truth. He knew then that her abilities to sense things around her had grown weak when she neglected to feel what he had. “Here,” Vincent said with a smile devoid of sincerity. “Why don’t you go up to the cabin. I still have a few things to do down in the fields before I’m ready for supper.”
“Well…all right…” She narrowed her eyes for a moment, yet surrendered her misgivings, and instead, she kissed him on the tip of his nose. She rested her head on his shoulder, then looked him in the eyes, and with playful banter said, “Now, now, don’t be late.” She laughed, giving him a last kiss on his cheek, and then they parted ways.
Noemi hopped, pranced, and strolled up toward the cabin, occasionally beaming over her shoulder at him. He clumsily waved to her, yet remained still and vigilant, watching for any moving threats from his spot.
His hawk-like eyes scanned the fields for trouble. Vincent smiled with his mouth only, his senses unmoved, he waved compulsively back as she did to him.
His ease now became irregular. He crossed his arms, and he twisted around several times, mumbling to himself for her to get in the cabin. Once she had reached the cabin, closing the door behind her, he hiked with purpose down the hill at a quickened, urgent pace.
Vincent anxiously marched toward a cracked, protruding, large chunk of timeworn foundation hid amongst the long grass and vines of thick greenery. The foundation was cluttered between the low brush, and fenced in by a brick wall at the bottom of the hill.
He had sensed someone else, and though he had not seen a person hiding behind the wall, he felt a person hiding there. He intended to find out just who dared stalk them.
His rapid stride brushed the arching grains of wheat in his direction, hastily crushing some underfoot. The wind shifted. A cool gust pushed down from behind.
His movements rustled the field, sending crickets jumping, birds flying, and bees buzzing all away from him. Alone, he stomped a new path through the meadow he had so carefully tread moments before with his eternal love hand in hand.
Puh-puh, puh-puh. His heart pounded and sweat formed at his brow as he approached the vine-ridden brick wall. He had a past he wished to forget. She had a past she never mentioned. Though their lives had diverged for a time, they shared a similar past, and a dangerous enemy.
This common enemy not only killed them, but also had the ability to know if he and Noemi had stayed dead.
The pit of his gut provoked nauseating flashes from recent dilemmas he hoped never to think of again, nor wished to trouble Noemi’s fragile mind. He slowed as he approached the wall, and then rapidly stuck his neck out, viewing with eager queasiness both the wall and green overgrowth engulfing the wall.
From ten yards away, he stopped and considered the best vantage for his attack. He sensed an unmistakable tingle, an active vibration in his brain, which discharged throughout his body. He shook his hands, balling them up before releasing his fingers spread and straight. He rotated his wrist in circles, and his head from side shoulder to back, and squared it atop once more, while blinking an immersed vision toward the wall again.
He knew that like him, it was another immortal, and Vincent had come to hate all other immortals, except for Noemi, whom he loved for the new meaning that she gave to his life.
It had been a while since Vincent felt the sensation of another immortal.
It was foreign and magnified by com
parison to the time he had spent not feeling anyone else except his love, Noemi. Now, more than ever, he was startled and uncertain.
Cautiously approaching the fragmented wall hidden inside clusters of bushy overgrowth, he briefly glanced up the hill at their home. It was dinnertime, and the chimney had begun fuming a tasteful aroma of Noemi’s supper. He hesitated, thinking of her safety first. Ever since he lost her, he was determined to think of her first from then on, and he could not suffer her loss ever again. For if he had any doubts in his life, it was of only one thing, and that was if he could protect them from all the forces ready to tear their love apart.
Despite the risk, he continued down the hill. He was not going to just confront the unwanted guest, but also kill the intruder, and hide the body before it was time to eat supper.
His skills had eroded without practice and training. He promised her, he promised Noemi that that part of their lives was over. He knew how ill-prepared he was, and that scared him most of all. Up until now, he had dismissed his gifts and abilities, or so he thought. However, he worried, for if he lacked the conviction of skill to defend himself, how could he protect her. He glanced up the hill, wondering if he should flee to the cabin, get her, and run away from this place while he still had time. He needed to choose quickly, because two enemies approached, another immortal, and the time left to make the right decision.
In Vincent’s nature, he was never one taken to flight when battle called. Vincent would rather bathe the golden fields red with blood than run away. He put one wobbly hand on the brick, gathered the deepest breath his lungs could hold, and then stepped out, facing both sides of the wall.
The air settled a disquieting calm. For a brief moment, Vincent could hear only Noemi’s wind chimes on the cabin porch. He braced, crouched down, and turned inward, expecting his foe. He raised his arms and blocked his face from the attacking coo as a pair of doves flapped their wings, racing to escape his furious surprise.
Temporarily blinded by the fleeing birds, he tensely laughed. The birds had cleared out and flown away. Vincent’s chest elevated and lowered calmly. His respirations slowed at the sight of nothing except the wall and the thick greenery.