Angel, known as Butter on the forum, was nervous and excited. Eric had called and asked her to accompany on this wonderful Valentine’s night. He told her to dress warmly and comfortably that he would pick her up at sundown.
The luxurious suv pulled up in front of her house and he stepped out, all 6’4” blond gloriousness of him. He was wearing a long leather coat lined in some sort of lamb’s wool. He was wearing jeans and a dark green sweater. He seemed to glow in the moon light, not that faint sparkle of the creatures designed for the younger girls. He was all man, and all there, and he was coming for her. She tried to picture him as he had been before, a rough but proud noble man, with his own idea of virtues. He stepped up onto her front porch, filling the space with his presence. It would make no difference to Angel whether Eric was in a great auditorium or a broom closet; he would take up space with not just his beautiful body, but his magnificent presence.
“Good evening Angel,” he purred, kissing her lips and putting his hand gently on her belly where her child lay. The Viking loved signs of fertility. It was a part of his lingering human masculinity and his ingrained Viking culture a thousand years in the making of this particular man. She may call herself Angel but to him, she was the Goddess.
He carefully led her down the steps of her own porch and handed her into the suv and shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side and got in. He started the vehicle and began to drive.
“Where are we going?” asked Angel.
“Somewhere where there is less artificial light. I have a fondness for star gazing and I wanted to take you to a place so we could gaze at them together,” he said.
“I didn’t know you knew anything about the stars,” she said.
“Oh yes, dearest, my people used the stars to navigate the four corners and to understand the fates of each child born under them. I remembered something, that the people always said I had been born under an auspicious star,” he said. “Apparently they were right.”
“What is your sign?’ she asked.
“In the Roman astrology I am a Capricorn, I was born in very early January, though I am not sure of the day. In my people’s culture, I was born in the sign of Iss. Ironically, they have the same attributes of leadership and discipline. But not tonight…tonight I am just a lover, under the stars with his Angel,” he said, looking at her. He took her hand and kissed it and placed it high on his leg, so he could feel the warm pressure of her hand there as he drove.
They drove for some time and finally he pulled over and parked and got out of the car. He stopped momentarily and opened the back and got something and came around and opened her door. He carefully handed her out and took her hand and began to walk her into the forest. They heard a wolf howl briefly.
“Weres,” muttered Angel.
“No, real wolves, but do not worry dearest, they are far away,” he said.
“Were you really upset with us when we got excited over the Were?” she asked.
“I was,” he said. “But I am very jealous of my friends. My lady friends especially.”
“Oh…” she said a loss for words.
“But don’t trouble yourself right now lover,” he said.
They walked into the clearing. The moon was in her crone aspect, gloaming and dark and the stars were brilliant. Eric led her out into the meadow and shook out the thick blanket and laid it on the grass. He handed her down onto the blanket and then took off his coat and covered her with it. It smelled of him, that smell of rich history and otherness and his expensive cologne. He lay down beside her and turned on his side. He was very close to her. He turned his face to look at the cloudless sky. She studied the face. He was thoughtful and brooding but strangely at peace, restful.
“I feel your eyes on me like a caress Angel,” he said. “Did you know that you can see the gates of Valhalla from here?”
“No,” she said.
“There is a story about a Valkyrie who fell in love with a mortal man. Valkyries are our Angels,” he explained. “This Valkyrie fell in love with a man and she would follow him. She was with him through every battle and while she longed for him to die so she could collect him to go to Valhalla, she could not bear the thought of him dying.”
“What did she do?” she asked. Eric’s hand was gently rubbing her belly in slow gentle circles that soothed her. He continued to look at the stars, as if the legend was being reenacted for him there.
“Eventually he did die, but before he died, the Angel who loved him came down and claimed him and stole away his last breath,” he said. He turned to Angel and lightly brushed his lips against hers. “If I breathed, my last breath would be yours to claim.”
“Oh, Eric,” sighed Angel.
Happy Valentines Chere, hope you enjoyed it.
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