“Abstinent?” Dio felt the word echo in his head. He couldn’t possibly have heard correctly. Maybe his ears had taken a blow during the fight and were distorting his hearing. Something was so terribly wrong and foreign about that word. He knew instinctively that he would have never agreed to such a thing, particularly not when his body was reacting to her like it did.
For the entire time since they’d left the parking lot, he’d been hard. How would he ever last a day around her with a hard-on like that? For an instant, he wondered if without his memory she was like a new woman to him and therefore the excitement of being with her was fresh. Could that have led to his raging erection? But he dismissed the thought quickly. If he was engaged to Ariadne, he couldn’t imagine not being in a constant state of arousal when she was near him.
She was beautiful with a body so sensual and curves so lush, he knew he had to bury himself in her. It was impossible not to.
“You mean we’ve never ...?” He let the question hang there, unable to even say a thing so impossible.
She avoided his scrutiny and feigned interest in the bloody towel in her hand. “No, we agreed that it would be better to wait until we’re married. We’re both very religious.”
“We are?” Religious wasn’t exactly what he felt right now.
Ariadne nodded and proceeded to wash out the towel in the sink, the water turning red from his blood. “You said it would make it even sweeter once we were married.”
There was nothing sweet about waiting. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Her posture stiffened. “You can’t. We both agreed. You just don’t remember.”
Dio clenched his fists in frustration. “Let’s talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about it, Dio.” She wrung out the towel and hung it over the side of the sink. “I’d better go.” She pushed past him.
“But, you’re not done here.” He pointed at his face and quickly glanced in the mirror. But he didn’t look as bad as he’d expected. Now that the blood was cleaned off his face, he realized that the cuts and bruises were only minor. There was hardly any swelling around his eye even though he could have sworn that he had barely been able to open it when he’d first come to in the parking lot.
“You’ll be fine. Just put some ice on it for a while.”
Then she swept out of the bathroom. A few seconds later, the front door clicked shut. Dumbfounded, Dio stood in the middle of the tiny bathroom and ran his hand through his hair.
She’d left him without as much as a good-night kiss. How was that possible? Was she mad at him for something he’d done? It certainly seemed that way. At times, she’d appeared a little annoyed, now that he thought of it. Maybe they had quarreled just before he’d been beaten up. It would explain her reluctance to stay with him. Because even if they’d agreed not to have sex before marriage, he was sure they’d kissed and touched before. There was no way in hell that he hadn’t tasted that sweet mouth and explored her sensual body.
But no matter why he’d ever agreed to this ludicrous idea of abstaining from sex before they were married, he wouldn’t stick to it going forward. His body ached to join with hers, and somehow he’d make her understand that he couldn’t wait. Was she afraid that if she went to bed with him he would lose interest in her and not want to marry her anymore? Could that be the reason for her reluctance to give into his demands? And he was sure he’d made demands, even though he had no memory of them.
Which was another problem: why couldn’t he remember even the smallest thing about his life before tonight? And why, for that matter, wasn’t he more worried about it? Strangely enough the loss of his memory didn’t put him into the kind of panic he would have expected to be in, given the circumstances. Despite the lack of knowledge about Ariadne and their relationship, or the void he experienced when it came to his past, he felt strangely content—well, as content as a man who hadn’t had sex in God-knew-how-long could.
Besides, maybe he simply needed some rest. By tomorrow morning, all his memories could be back, and his old life would be restored. However, he promised himself that one thing he wasn’t going back to was being celibate: he’d do everything in his power to seduce Ariadne into his bed. After all, she would be his wife, and there was nothing wrong with tasting the goods before he made the final purchase.
~ ~ ~
Dio’s sleep was anything but restful. He tossed and turned the entire night, plagued by strange dreams. They were inhabited by monsters and strange mythical creatures, yet they seemed familiar and oddly comforting.
Thunder and lightning lit the night sky as the ocean waves churned, the surf crashing against the shore until a creature, half man, half fish put a conch shell to his lips and played a soothing melody. As the waves calmed so did Dio, finding solace in the knowledge that he was surrounded by friends. And in the distance, he saw Ariadne as she ran not toward him but away from him, tears streaking down her face.
Dio shot up from the bed, his eyes flying open in the same instance. Sunlight streamed through the half-open shutters and bathed the room in brilliance. It was a beautiful summer day. The thunder and lightning from the night before had been only in his dreams. No cloud marred the perfect sky. And if his room had afforded a water view, he would have seen that not a ripple disturbed the calm surface.
For a minute, he simply sat there in a bed he didn’t recognize, in a room that was unfamiliar. He closed his eyes, trying to will his mind to go back in time and find the missing memories, but all he could remember was the moment he’d awakened in the parking lot and how Ariadne had taken care of him.
At the thought of her, the light bed sheet draped over his lower half tented. Figured: one thought of her and he was as hard as an iron bar, and about half as intelligent. His hand went to his rod, stroking himself to alleviate the ache he felt, but his own hand was no substitute for what he really wanted.
With a frustrated huff, he jumped out of bed and headed for the shower. Maybe a cold one would take care of it. He wondered what he’d done previously to get his raging hormones under control. Surely he would have had to devise some method to not feel like a powder keg about to go off whenever he was around her. He wished he could remember at least that bit of information.
As he passed the sink in the bathroom and reach for the shower curtain, he stopped in his tracks and snapped his head toward the mirror. Shock catapulted him back against the wall behind him.
By the gods!
He approached the mirror carefully, turning his face first this way, then the other. But no matter how long he studied his face, there was no evidence of his injuries. The cut next to his eye hadn’t even left a scar, and his lips were perfectly smooth. He ran his finger over his mouth, but there was no tenderness to the flesh, no unevenness. Everything looked and felt perfectly healed as if the fight last night had never happened.
As realization settled in, a terrible thought took residence in his head. What if he’d dreamed the entire incident? What if he’d never gotten beat up? And what if Ariadne was simply a figment of his imagination?
At that thought, his heart missed a beat. The idea was not just unsettling, but terrifying.
He turned on his heels and left the bathroom. His eyes searched for his trousers. He found them on a chair in the bedroom and rummaged through the pockets. Relief flooded him when he found his cell phone and pulled it out. He started typing in the first letter of her name, hoping that he had programmed in her number. The first name that came up was Apollo, then Ares, but as he scrolled down past a few more names starting with A, he found her: Ariadne Taylor. At least the name was real. Now he had to make sure it was her and not some woman he’d made up in his dreams.
He hit the button and let the cell phone dial, holding his breath all the while.
“Hello?” It was the same voice he’d dreamed about. It had to be her.
“Ariadne? It’s me, Dio.”
There was a short pause, but for all the tension it held, it could have lasted an hour. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Better, I guess,” he answered tentatively.
“So, you remember?”
Relieved by the direction the conversation took, he said, “All I remember is that you took care of me last night and left. I missed you.”
“Oh.”
“Is that an ‘oh, I missed you too, baby’?”
“Yes. Of course.” But her voice sounded less than sure.
He ventured a wild guess. “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”
“Who says I’m mad at you?”
“You ran out on me so fast last night. Listen, whatever happened, I’m sorry. I’m sure I said something you didn’t like, and if I could remember it, I’d probably be horrified.” Maybe she had even tried to stop him from getting into that fight that had left him without a memory.
“Uh, why don’t you rest?”
“I wanna see you.” His heart beat in his throat as he said it, and he realized how the thought of seeing her excited him.
“I can’t right now.”
He wouldn’t let her brush him off like that. “Tonight then.”
There was hesitation in her voice. “I’ll stop by tonight.”
“Good.”
There was a click in the line, and she was gone.