Alec & Circe
The island was the only home Alec had ever known. Since his father and mother had passed, Alec has lived alone. It was only him and the sea surrounding him. And though he never minded the silence, no living soul could go on sanely without human connection. The lighthouse stood alone, a tower of history sealed with secrets. It had stood for fifty years and may endure a hundred more beyond Alec’s lifetime. His only job was to keep Weeping Hollow’s border safe from oncoming ships.
Each night, he lit the cluster of candles in front of the glass window at the top of the spiraling staircase, knowing he wasn’t only protecting the town. Since laying eyes on Circe, as long as he was living, he was keeping her safe as well.
A bruised sun cowered behind grotesque skies, and wind iced Alec’s face as he sat beside a boulder. He was sketching the golden sunset with a fishing rod plunged into the sand at his side. His art was only expressive when inspired. And with Circe haunting his every thought, drawing was all he could do.
When he lifted his gaze, a boat was coming toward him from Weeping Hollow.
He wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not her.
Circe jumped from the boat once the shallow water was reached.
She wore a linen dress, and her beloved sapphire swayed on its necklace.
Her skirt clung to her golden legs as she almost floated over the waves to him, dragging her boat from behind. Once she was close enough, she tossed the anchor into the water with a splash without removing her ill-tempered glare. Then she stood over Alec, blocking the scarce daylight and casting shade to the side of his face.
Unable to speak from her sudden arrival, he only gazed up at her.
She continued to look at him with feral cat-like eyes, the green so intense and tantalizing. She was pretty in all ways, but there was something bewitching about her when she was mad.
What Alec didn’t know was that Circe could not rid herself of the thoughts of him since their first encounter. She’d often wondered what life would have been like outside of Weeping Hollow. Since Alec, she fantasized about a secluded island with an artist who had kind eyes while living with a monster her coven had forced her to marry.
Noticing the war in Circe’s eyes, Alec got to his feet and took her hands into his. “You came.” A curious and playful mixture inflicted his tone, and a shade of pink crawled up her neck to her cheeks.
It happened so suddenly. Alec’s first catch of the day yanked on the string.
An aggressive fish took the rod from the sand.
Circe pounced to snatch it just before it took off into the ocean, but her foot slipped upon a rock. When Alec rushed to catch Circe’s fall, the two of them tumbled into the sea, where the ledge had fallen off. It was deep enough that Circe couldn’t touch the bottom. Their heads and clothes were soaked. Foamy waves tumbled over themselves again and again, rocking the two with force and spraying their faces.
Alec circled his arms around her waist and pulled her to him to keep her head above the water. They looked at each other when laughter broke between them. Their laughter came easy, light, and Circe couldn’t remember the last time she’d genuinely laughed.
And when the laughter died, Circe regarded him with naked curiosity.
She loved how mist splattered his cheeks and slid along his jawline.
She loved how the waves splashed against his chest.
She loved how the sea loved him.
So, she touched his face as the two floated, together swaying with the waves.
Alec plucked her hair from her cheek that clung like seaweed, then grazed his knuckles down the side of her jawline, where he noticed a bruise. It was a fresh bruise that couldn’t have been more than twenty-four hours old.
Alec’s heart caved, and a serious look stole his expression. “Did someone do this to you?”
Circe was sure that if she spoke of it, emotion would burst out of her.
Pain had attached itself to these horrible words. How could a person understand without living through it?
Helpless. Powerless. Spineless.
Why must anything less become her life?
Why not other less words?
Relentless, she thought.
This was her curse. No matter how fierce she was, she still allowed someone to take pleasure in making her believe otherwise. But no matter her trauma, she still found the good in living and believed in love. And this was her magic.
So that was when she kissed him.
It was a thirsty kiss, one that called upon her entire body.
Her legs encircled his waist and her fingers tangled in his wet hair.
She had been so starved for it since the last, and despite all efforts, she began to cry from the hardened ache shattering.
When she pulled away, heartbreak adorned her features. “Make love to me,” she pleaded between kisses, her lips brushing across his.
Alec searched her eyes. Inside them, there was a longing that touched the deepest parts of him. That was when he knew this was what she truly needed. To be touched softly, to be kissed intensely, to be beloved deeply. Nothing else felt righter than this moment.
So Alec did just that. He kissed her slowly, passionately, pushing up her floating skirt and touching her in a way a woman should be touched.
“You are my sun, Circe,” he whispered into her ear, soothing her. That was when he looked her in the eyes. “You are the center of my world.”
He cradled the back of her head in one hand, using the other to untie his breeches. Abandon despair onto romantic affair.
And he held their kiss as he thrust himself inside her.
Circe’s head fell back in his hand, and Alec’s lips dragged down the length of her throat when he pumped into her again.
The two made love in the ocean that day.
The islander and his siren, with ice water in their veins.
Alec did not think of the consequences that would follow.
Circe did not think at all.