Page 110 of Serenity
“Make no mistake, Myaquanna, you’re treading close to the sun. Don’t get burned.
I had to let her ass off with that warning. My name may have meant peace, but playing with me would always lead to consequences.
That evening, as I lounged across the couch against Duke’s chest, I didn’t tell him about my run-in with Mya. Wouldn’t. He didn’t need to know everything where it concerned her. She’d weaponized herself, remaining in my class and granting me an opportunity to study her. Her return would be to my advantage.
A realm of frozen lakes, reindeer, and snow-covered plains glimmered under the northern lights. Christmas in North Sweden was absolutely everything.
High above, the Kiruna sky came alive with generous flecks of pink, green, and purple streaks. Vibrant colors snaked across the firmaments, reminding me that our current realm was a mere fragment of what unseen bits prevailed.
The magical phenomenon didn’t stop at the mere display. Adding cherries to such a wonder, like peaks of a strawberry sundae drizzled with chocolate, the lights danced as if vibing to an unheard tune. Absolutely no one could tell me God did not exist. The evidence of his omnipresence showed itself all over the world. Witnessing such magnificence in the form of an aurora borealis was awe-inspiring.
“Stand to your left. My right.”
Without hesitation, I followed along with the professional providing assistance. Long-range photographs were snapped as I posed, holding up the peace sign in several. In others, I held both hands up and motioned in awe to the sky. Duke joined me for a couple’s pose. Of our countless adventures, we had many of them to share. Subsequently, the remainder of our crew joined in for a group photo.
Mulled wine called glögg warmed our bellies, and wonder warmed our hearts. Tucked away from the city lights, I and three men named Duke saw the light show in the sky without disruption. Once we’d gotten our fill of the beautiful aurora, we headed back to the rental properties, which would be our dwelling on Christmas Day. The glass cabins, too, offered a view of the phenomenon in the sky.
The following morning, I rose to the feel of Duke’s warm and skilled tongue between my legs. The unbidden moans he dragged from my lips caused him to draw back the blankets and study my face. The cunnilinguist loved to observe my facial expressions. His handsome features were coated in my essence.
“Merry Christmas, Bumble Bee.”
“Merry Christmas, babe,” with gusto and a fluttery center, I returned with a lazy smile.
With our birthdays recently passed, we’d both agreed not to exchange gifts. Each of our celebrations had a hefty price tag. Duke had, as always, financed our trip to Sweden. Nothing further was required for Christmas.
The sun dawdled on the horizon, the wintery white blanketing the landscape, paired with a mix of pink and lavender sky, looked like something out of a Disney movie.
As the day commenced, so did we, basking in its beauty and bundled to a tee. Paramour experienced its fair share of winter, but Sweden was indeed a cold day in hell. Depths of the Arctic required the appropriate attire. We dressed in a base, middle, and outer layer of coat on our upper and lower bodies. A balaclava also covered our faces from the bite of the wind.
Located twenty minutes from Kiruna, Jukkasjärvi was a town of yet another attraction. We visited Icehotel, a lodging made entirely of ice. Even the furniture was made from ice. Their ice bar, which served a variety of alcoholic concoctions, offered drinks from an ice chalice. An ice chapel was notorious for couples getting married year-round. We were lucky to get to witness one couple’s holy matrimony during our visit.
The hotel also featured themed art suites designed by artists all over the world—art made from ice sculpture. Experiencing that leg of our trip as a gallery owner was, indeed, a treat.
Save for the mattress inside, the hotel’s guest rooms were also made of ice. Shivering the entire duration of our visit, I happily declined to attempt an overnight stay.
At the base of an ice slide outside the hotel, I stood with Duke’s father. Together, we both snapped photos of the remaining Dukes. While waiting for Duke and Duke Senior to come down the slide, he inched closer to me.
“So things are serious between you and D3, huh?”
Unsure of what he expected as my response, I opted for the naked truth. “I love him.”
“I can tell,” he nodded with a grin. “The chemistry between you two is nothing like how it was with that heifer, Mya. You, Miss Bee, are the real deal. He’ll be looking to lock you down soon. Have a couple of babies. Are you ready for that?”
Absolutely not.
“We haven’t set marriage as one of our goals.”
Again, I spoke from my heart. I loved Duke unconditionally. A huge part of why we worked was because we wanted the same things. We denied the same things. He had a vasectomy and no desire for children or marriage, just like me. It wasn’t part of our future. I wished our people would stop trying to impress it on us.
Watching as he helped his grandfather head back to the top of the slide a second time, I waved and smiled.
“He may have not expressed it, but I know my son. Before my wife’s passing –God rest her soul– he wanted a family. He just married the wrong woman, and thankfully, he and Mya didn’t go that route.”
My lips remained sealed, devoid of a poised comment. Mya. There she was again, surfacing in the paradise of my life with Duke. Being compared to her grated me senselessly. I was my own fucking woman. Why was she always a topic of discussion?
Plastering a polite smile on as Duke came down the slide for the second time, my body felt warm despite the -5º weather of Jukkasjärvi.
Later that evening, we had a fireside Swedish dinner, and afterward, we toasted marshmallows and made smores. Save for the morning discussion about Mya, my Christmas had been lovely with the three Dukes.