Wild ​Reverence

by Rebecca Ross

She was not mine by spoken vow but something deeper. Something that felt older, stronger, darker, like a language that had been sung centuries ago but had now been forgotten. Something that simmered in the blood, calling to me, calling to her.

“Because she is yours, as you are hers,” Bade replied quietly. “And she is precious to me.”

I laid my hand over her own and turned my mouth to her palm, breathing her in. We were doomed, she and I. One day, I would perish, and she would live on, endless as the stars. But if we were doomed, then let us fully embrace it.