Tempest & Circe (Week 2)

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I was bought in Ancient Rome. A present for a wealthy Senator’s wife. I was supposed to be a servant to her, yet it was my hue that beguiled her husband.

I would fetch water and he would watch me from his window. He stared at me as wolves had rabbits. Intent, cunning and starving. I would feel all of me warm he looked at me. I tried to ignore it. The words of my father haunted me as I tried to sleep night after night in this house now my prison and home. “Haddassah, men are hunters. From the dawn of time until now. They hunt.”

The Senator I was bound to was named Aricadus. He was tall, dark hair and with eyes so blue it was like looking into the Aegean Sea. I always looked at the floor. He and his wife, Lucria, renamed me Circe. Her household manager called me this because she thought all the women and girls from my home in Moracco were witches or diviners. But, I could never look him in his eyes. I felt as though he would pull me into him.

But, I fell into them. I fell into them.

I had been with this household a year when this happened. In August 54 A.D., there was a horrible storm outside. So much rain and wind, and I woke to a hand on my face. Thinking it was Gaicus, the house boy whom helped the Sentator with his papers, I wore when I woke up. “Will you not just—”

I stared at him, studied his lips and jaw. He touched my face again. Tracing over my lips. I tried to close my eyes, terrified I’d fall into his. My body became composed of only heat and heartbeat. There was this draw to him, and I was unable to move. He moved closer to me, cupping my face in his hands. “Hadassah.”

I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to breathe. His left thumb brushed my bottom lip, licking his own. “I have dreamed of what you would taste like, where I could taste you.” I looked at the sheets I laid on. His hand traced the back of my neck. “Senator.” I closed my eyes, as his mouth found and traced mu breasts.

“You saunter around my home as if you were the mistress and not my property.”

It was how he uttered the word property that lit something within in me, this warmth that radiated towards and past my belly–before traveling mercilessly through my breasts as he massaged them and behind my ears. “Circe, indeed.” As he kissed me, I saw his eyes darken to gray. his mouth hot and needy. I was under him, his breath becoming my own, his heart on my chest.

This slow heat burned between us. Both of our hands greedy, exploring everything. He growled in my ear, low and hungry. He pulled my head back by my hair, nipping along my jaw. “I own you, possess you and no part of you is hidden to me.” I felt his fingers coaxing me open and turning. With drawing them, pushing them back. My inner walls gripped his hands, needing more than twitching digits. “Soon, my little one,” he licked my ear. I felt my body unlock, just by his voice.

 

I have had this dream more than once. I never believed past lives until I saw Mason. When he looked at me from the library window on the second floor, I knew him. Knew his touch. His body. And knew he would have me again.