Dawnkeepers by Jessica Andersen

name he’d used only when they’d been alone together, wrapped up in each other. “I—”

    “Don’t,” she interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s only a dream.”

    He wasn’t sure he believed that, but knew damn sure he didn’t care anymore. He eased back to strip off his shirt, and when he did she dropped down from her perch to shimmy out of her pants. Then, with a crook of her finger, she brushed past him, naked, and headed for the edge of the platform, where the stone gave way to liquid darkness. Without a word or a moment’s hesitation, she lowered herself into the water, which rose to her waist, then her shoulders.

    Swimming, treading water with lazy strokes, she turned and looked at him, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Well?”

    Done with hesitating and justifying, he hastily stripped off the rest of his clothes and dove in, slicing cleanly between the pale teeth of stone that broke the surface. The water was warmer than he’d expected, cool but not cold, and the thrill of it tightened his skin and ramped his excitement. There was a quiver of power, too, the resonance of sacrificial offerings that had been thrown in the pool in ages past.

    The water was deep enough that he had to tread, kicking gently as he stroked toward the place where Alexis had come to rest. She was settled between two tall stalagmites that were joined at the base and split near the waterline, forming a pocket for her to sit in, with the spires branching away above, giving her freedom to move, yet an anchor to brace herself against if she desired.

    Desire. It was all he felt, all he could process as he moved toward her. Her arms were linked around the stone pillars, her legs eased slightly apart in the natural stone pocket. Water licked at her navel; her wet hair clung to her shoulders and full breasts. Amber torchlight glittered on droplets of water as they ran from her hair and tracked down her breasts and belly and ran along the graceful curves of her arms.

    She was an astonishingly beautiful gut-punch that took Nate’s breath away. And in that instant, as he closed with her and touched his lips to hers, he thought he understood the lure of thinking that goddesses were real.

    If he’d believed in such things, he would’ve sworn he was looking at a goddess right now.

    Alexis wasn’t a weeper, but a single tear gathered and broke free, sliding down her cheek as he touched his lips to hers for the first time in so long. The kiss was sweet and soft, a moment of worship from a man who didn’t believe in either sweetness or the gods. She leaned into him, wrapped herself around him, holding herself firmly in the moment because thoughts of the past and the future were equally heartrending. This wasn’t real; she knew it deep down inside, with both the beings that were her and not-her. This was a dream, a vision. Their bodies were back at Skywatch; they weren’t really making love; nothing was really going to change. But in that instant, in that shiny, glittering instant, she could pretend, if only for a few minutes or an hour, that the hawk was hers as he’d been before.
    Before? thought a small, panicked part of her, knowing the impulse went much farther back than just the previous summer. More like a previous lifetime, and that was getting weird even for Alexis. Then he changed the angle of the kiss, took it deeper, and the past, present, and future contracted to a single point, a limitless now that picked her up and swept her away. Murmuring agreement, encouragement, she opened to him and let herself fall into the familiar madness, the feelings she’d tried to let go of, but had really only set aside. Being with him once again unlocked those feelings, setting them free to flood her with an ache that was edged with the sharp anger of rejection.

    You ditched me, she said with her next kiss. You didn’t want me enough to work out whatever got stuck in your head. She didn’t know what had happened, or how