Mikalo's Flame by Syndra K. Shaw Read Free Book Online Page A

teasing him
back. “You will always, always be my Mikalo. I only asked about the
‘my Grace’ thing because I was curious. That’s all.”
    He kissed me again, his fingers holding my
chin as he paused.
    “Then ‘my Grace’ it will be,” he whispered,
his breath on my lips.
    Suddenly, he drew away and started up one of
the park’s many gentle slopes, pulling me along after him.
    “Come,” he said quickly.
     
     
     

Chapter Fourteen
     
    On the other side of the park, over the grass
and through the trees, the twin spires of the Dakota stood tall,
this elegant pile of expensive, infamous pale brick easily
distinguishable from the buildings crowding Central Park West.
    Others walked this path. The day was ending
and many, like Mikalo and I, had chosen to walk, eschewing the
subway or the bus or the car service for a leisurely stroll in
temperatures which felt unseasonably warm and a sun that still
shone bright.
    Finding a bench, we sat.
    He turned to me.
    “Question:,” he began, “Did you think that
perhaps Mara Byzan and I were lovers?”
    I laughed, shaking my head.
    “No, of course not,” I said.
    And then feeling guilty for the lie, quickly
added,
    “Yeah, you could say that.”
    He laughed.
    “Again, you change so quick!” he then said
with a smile.
    “And for my head to think of offering my body
to Mara Byzan,” he continued with a grimace. “This is not a good
thing.
    “It is so important that I find in my
beauties something to kiss. They must be kind, they must be gentle
and have hearts of passion. And joy. They must smile with their
soul and not just their lips. They must have a beauty that comes
from more than just the breasts or this smile or a beautiful
ass.
    “But it is so important there be something in
them that maybe someday I can love.
    “Otherwise, why give them my kisses and my
heart and my body and my sex?” he then finished with a shrug.
    “I find all those things in you,” I said.
    And I was being absolutely honest. He was
quite wonderful and I was damn lucky to be sitting here with him
right now.
    “And I find it in you, my Grace,” he said
quietly. “I am willing to give myself to whatever this is with us
and just let it be what it wants to be.”
    “This sounds like a recent decision,” I said,
a bit stunned by what he’d just said. The thought that he might
have doubts had never entered my mind.
    But there you go. They did, there had been,
and he’d come to peace with it and decided to just, as he said, let
it be what it wants to be.
    “No,” he replied. “This was in my head when I
turned and saw your eyes on me when I was holding my coffee. In the
beginning. When I first said hello.”
    “Oh, so you were set from the beginning to be
with me.”
    “I was open to letting my heart love and,
perhaps, be hurt,” he said, turning to me. “It is life, hurt and
love and doubt and hope. It is best, I think, to take your hand
away and not move it where you want. Let it move on its own.”
    “And if it crashes?”
    “Then you pick up those pieces and go again,”
he said with a small shrug. “It is life.”
    He paused then, watching a couple amble by,
hand in hand, the day turning to dusk as the sun prepared to
set.
    “I will say a truth now,” he continued
quietly. “The night that we had our first kiss, when we had wine
and laughter, walking there by the park to your home, I took you
back to my hotel in my thoughts and, alone, made love to you.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Oh yes,” he said with a small blush. “I
wanted to do more than kiss you that first night. Wanted to do more
than, I do not know, walk with you.
    “I wanted to be close to you. To hear you
breathe, to smell your skin, your hair. To feel your lips on me. To
taste you and watch your passion.”
    He stopped and cleared his throat, folding
his fingers together and placing them in his lap.
    Ah, he was growing excited.
    “And a truth from me, Mikalo,” I said. “I
thought of you as well.”
    A small