So I said I would give you guys more of an insight and I mean to make good on my word. Apologies for how long it took. Here’s the full scene from Touch My World, Chapter 3. Two reminders, first. Number One– this is the raw form, NO EDITOR HAS TOUCHED THIS. Number Two– it’s written in first person present, POV belongs to River.
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I struggle against the pull of reverie, hating that I still habitually sink into memory, reliving it as keenly as I’d lived it before. Now that I know that I can eat similarly to people—living off of animals—I choose not to hunt within city limits, which has weakened me considerably, resulting in long periods of near-unconsciousness where memory ebbs and flows like an angry tide. It’s the first time in almost four and half years that I’ve not eaten in a week, and ye gods, am I suffering for it, though at least the reverie focuses much on the near-past as opposed to the far-past. I will gladly think about my mother’s calls, awkward as they are, every minute of the day if it means I never have to relive Tijuana again. Curling tighter in my sheets, I close my eyes and focus on meditative breathing, hoping to center myself. In… two… three… four… five… six. Hold… two… three… four… five… six. Out… two… three… four… five… six. Two more times, I breathe in, hold, and exhale to the count of six—
And I am elsewhere, somewhere on the ether, I believe is the technical term. My body completely relaxes in repose, but the scene before my wide open eyes is anything but relaxed—
I move towards the fire and squat down, one hand curving over the swollen belly of a pregnant friend, the other picking up the charred stick to stir the coals and rouse the fire. Another hand covers mine as lips touch the crook of my neck. “Time draws to a close. Soon our child will sleep in our arms.” The words spoken in that husky, beautiful voice sound similar to my beloved Gannicus. (As we are dressed in what look to be Roman clothing, my lucid, educated guess is that I dream of being his back then as well.)
I turn to him, my hands moving to rest on his chest. “How will we live, Gannicus? Do you believe we will win this war?”
His hands frame my face, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones. “I believe that we travel with Spartacus, and that we will crest these mountains, and that we will live a calm life in the valley below until the end of our days. We will raise this child and watch him grow into a man and father children of his own.” His mouth covers mine in a strong kiss and I push him down to the ground, my fingers tracing the ridges of his chest muscles as I murmur, “A life with you, however long or brief, is all I want. A child with you is a gift, Gannicus! Truly, I am blessed by the gods!”
Rolling me to my back, Gannicus’ lips spread in a wide smile as his hands move to the knot in my belt, unfastening it to remove the tunic altogether. In seconds, my skin is warm against his, our cocks sliding against one another in delicious pleasure and I arch into his touch, drown in his kiss—
He brings my hands above my head as his eyes meet mine, his voice thick when he speaks. “You are mine. As of this night, I bind you to me for always. We are of one soul, forever, you and I, Brennus and Gannicus, now of one body—” Gannicus fills me and I cry out as he does, though I do not take my eyes from his. “—for all of time. You are beloved husband to me as I am beloved husband to you, Brennus!”
I hear a low laugh echo through my brain as that wonderful voice I miss so much interjects, Yes, you guessed right… I did love you before.
My whole body reacts to the sound of his voice. I wrap the sheets tighter around me, my arms clasping my middle as a painful spasm wrenches through it. The feel of my pain startles him, he asking, What is wrong, River?
It is nothing, beloved Gannicus. I am merely trying to adapt to a different diet.
You want to eat animals instead of people?
I nod in answer to his query. ‘Cept I’m not real practiced in eating animals and so all my research has turned up is a whole lot of nothing. I’ve found animals listed, but I’ve not really come across a whole lot that I can make myself hunt. I feel like I have too much of the upper hand and that it’s not a fair fight—
You’d rather have bigger game.
I think I’d definitely feel better about killing something that could put up a decent fight. I’m used to stalking my own kind. I can’t stomach killing something that looks like a dog or a Bambi. I sigh heavily. Where did the daydream come from? Were we speaking Latin? Was that really a memory of you and me?
The daydream was a bit of a memory and a bit of a longing to be as we were then… together and inseparable. I miss you… and I thought that since you were sleeping, I would gift you with dream.
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Hope you liked! 🙂
M. LeAnne Phoenix 