Sentenced to Life

10

Emory played a classical tune a smile on Silas' face. After a few songs she looked over at him.

"Mind if I change it?"

He nodded, offering his hand to her, giving her the go ahead. She changed it to a slow some hat seductive song, her body swaying to the music. He leaned back, cup in his hand his eyes narrowed as he watched the way her body moved.

He licked his lips, watching her hips move to the beat.

"You won't dance with me?" She called, her eyes closed.

"I'm not acquainted with this dance," he murmured. "I will...watch you for a little longer."

She smiled to herself. Fitting. She was often alone, after all, and she had begun to convince herself she didn't mind it much. Her body filled with the music as it swells. Suddenly, she felt his large hands on her waist, his body occupying space behind her.

Emory glanced back at him. He stared down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, moving along with her. She closed her eyes, his lips hovering over here.

"I'm still not swayed by you," she whispered.

His lips quirked up. "Is that so?"

"You're a married man after all,"

His grip got harsher, pressing into her soft fleshed. "Widowed."

She swallowed. "Can you call yourself a widow if you killed your wife?"

He breathed out softly. "Isn't she dead just the same?" He whispered back.

Emory shook her head. "I would just meet the same fate. Even if I...even I were interested. I'm not."

Their steps matched perfectly, as if it were choreographed somehow.

"I find it so intriguing. You mention my dead wife from 300 hundred years ago. But not your very alive husband. Who reaches out to you even now."

She opened her eyes, but he let out a shuddering breath, covering her eyes with his hand. "Ah," he let out a mournful sigh. "Why did I say that? I don't want you to think of him."

They swept along the small strip of the room unhindered by furniture, performing a dance neither was sure they knew.

"I know I am but a mystery. Ruins for you to uncover and make mistake—I am in ruins," he whispered. "But once more, I plead with you—disappear from me." He held her tighter, resting his head on hers. "Disappear from my sight, Emory, and save yourself the trouble."

Emory swallowed roughly. "I'm only in it for the money. You're my cash cow."

He chuckled. "That coin will get you as much as you can receive from me. No one will believe you—believe me. So take your gains and flee."

Emory swallowed. "Flee to what?"

He dared not say. He didn't know. He didn't know enough. He wanted to know more. More about her. Where she would go, who she would call to, her home.

Silas stilled and swallowed. Emory's hands shook, as she lifted them, pulling his hand down from her eyes, finding him looking at her with a vexed expression.

Silas pulled away and turned his back, sighing. He touched his chest. "What am I saying?" He murmured, more to himself than anything.

Hadn't he promised himself he didn't have to be kind anymore? Didn't he give her plenty of warning? Any more and she might run away. Even only knowing her a few days he knew she was skittish.

He smiled and shook his head. "You're right. I can no longer hold my liquor. Let us retire for the night, Emory."

She nodded, her face feeling flushed, her hands still trembling. Was it fear?

"Yes..." she whispered. "That's a...that's a good idea."

She stumbled toward the door, her knees feeling weak. She paused, her hand on the knob, swallowing roughly.

"I can't afford a hotel much longer. But I do have a guest room?"

Silas stared at the window, her back to him. His heart beat loudly in his ears, his hands trembling as well, but from a very different emotion.

"In your home? With your husband? You'd let me stay with you?" He asked gently.

Emory smiled. "You're my cash cow, after all. I can't let you be picked up by anyone else. Pack what you have. We should checkout early tomorrow so I don't have to pay for another night."

She opened the door, and with that left. Her back pressed against the cool wood when it closed behind her. She held her hand up to the light watching it tremble. Emory gasped, holding it, her eyes darting about.

Silas stood on the other side of the door watching her feet until she departed. And then he smiled softly, touching the door, his mind flirting over the encounter, over and over, gleaning all her could about her. A new memory. In fact...all his memories had her in them.

He smiled at that.

Now then...he'd get to see her home. Who she was when she rested. He licked his lips. They were so close.  Silas closed his eyes, playing the night over and over and though the music was gone, and so was she, their figures danced along his memory.