The Scent of Sand and Silk

I stood before the ancient stone, a fortress built to keep out monsters that no longer exist. But here I was, trembling with a hunger of my own making.

The sun beat down on the raw silk of my dress, heating it until the fabric felt like skin against mine—warm, alive. It smells of dust and dry grass, yet beneath it, there is something primal calling to me. My hat casts a shadow over eyes that ache for you. They say this place heals the soul, but all I want is the way your hands used to map my spine.

A gust of wind tangles in my hair like fingers wanting to possess me. It's a wild thing, this desire, scratching at the cage of propriety holding me back. The structure behind me stands stoic and stone-cold, but I am flesh and heat. One more look over my shoulder—a smile that promises ruin—and then... we leave.

Editor: Leather & Lace