Chapter Five: Whispers Beneath the Sheets
The air in Greece was warm and thick with the salt of the sea. The villa Asa had chosen rested atop a cliff, elegant and secluded, with whitewashed walls and sweeping terraces draped in blooming bougainvillaea. The wedding had been just days ago, but the stillness of this place made it feel like years away. Nuria wandered barefoot across the tiled floors of their bedroom, the silk hem of her nightdress trailing just behind her.
They had made love for the first time hours earlier-tender, uncertain, yet wrapped in a thread of something sacred. Asa had kissed every part of her with slow reverence, and Nuria, breathless and trembling, had given herself entirely to him. It was a moment both soft and aching.
Now, she lay asleep on the bed, one arm curled under her cheek. Her chest rose and fell in a rhythm that was peaceful and trusting. The moonlight washed over her skin like silver.
Beside her, Asa sat upright. His bare chest was still, his expression unreadable. A shadow passed across his eyes as he leaned over Nuria.
His hand lifted slowly, hovering just above her neck. Not touching-never touching. But his fingers hovered as if caught between hesitation and desire. His lips parted slightly, his breathing shallow. He tilted his head, studying the softness of her throat, the fragility beneath her skin.
His hand trembled.
Nuria stirred.
"Asa?" she whispered, her voice groggy and warm.
In an instant, his expression transformed. His hand withdrew gently, and a bright smile spread across his face-the same crooked, endearing smile that had first drawn her in.
"I'm here," he said softly, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "Go back to sleep, love."
She blinked slowly, then smiled. "Mmm. Come closer."
He eased back into the bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to his chest. She melted into him, sighing contentedly. He pressed a kiss to her temple.
"Are you okay?" she murmured.
"I'm perfect," he said. "Just watching the moonlight on your face."
She chuckled faintly. "That's cheesy."
He laughed with her, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "Maybe. But it's true."
Nuria nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder. "I feel safe," she whispered.
"Good," Asa said. His voice was velvet. "That's all I want."
Outside the villa, waves lapped gently against the rocks below, the sound lulling them into sleep. But as Nuria drifted off again, there was something in Asa's eyes-a flicker, a shadow-that never quite left.
---
The next morning, Nuria awoke to the scent of strong coffee and the sound of waves crashing below their balcony. The light filtered in through sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the bed. Asa wasn't there. The sheets beside her were already cool.
She rose and wrapped herself in a linen robe, stepping out onto the terrace. There he was, shirtless in linen trousers, leaning against the balustrade, two cups of coffee beside him. When he turned, that grin returned, dazzling as ever.
"Morning, Mrs. Leclair," he said.
She laughed. "That still feels so strange to hear."
"I like the way it sounds."
He handed her the coffee, and they stood side by side in silence for a few minutes, watching the sea stretch endlessly before them.
"We should explore today," Asa said after a while. "Maybe the village below. I heard they have an olive garden that's been around for centuries."
"I'd love that," Nuria replied, sipping. "Do we just walk down?"
"I arranged a car. You'll love the streets. They're all cobbled and narrow-like stepping back in time."
Asa drove them himself, the breeze tugging at their hair through the open windows. Nuria couldn't stop smiling, not even when a few locals stared at them as they passed-he, elegant and imposing; she, ethereal and radiant.
They explored the market, walked hand-in-hand along alleyways brimming with ancient charm, and shared pistachio gelato in the square. Asa seemed at ease-almost boyish. He made her laugh as he pretended to barter dramatically for a straw hat.
But there were moments-small ones-where Nuria caught him staring at her with something unreadable in his expression. Once, while she admired a handwoven tapestry, she turned to find his gaze lingering, his face completely still. When she smiled and asked what he was thinking, he blinked and returned the grin.
"Just memorizing your face," he'd said.
It sent a chill down her spine.
That night, after dinner on the balcony and wine beneath the stars, Asa grew quiet. He stood behind her as she leaned against the railing, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
"You know," he murmured, "sometimes I think I don't deserve this."
She turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"You. This peace. All of it. Like it's borrowed and someone's going to come and take it away."
Her brows knitted. "Asa..."
He shook his head, smiling. "Ignore me. Just the wine talking."
But that night, when she fell asleep in his arms again, the shadow returned.
Asa lay still beside her, his eyes open.
And somewhere, deep behind them, a memory stirred-blood on white tiles, the stifled sob of a boy, the weight of breath held too long. His hand twitched slightly.
He looked down at Nuria. Her neck was exposed again in sleep, her chest rising slowly, completely unguarded.
His hand hovered again. No pressure, no contact. Just air and thought and something darker lurking beneath.
Then she shifted, murmured something unintelligible, and his hand snapped back. He smiled quickly, brushing her shoulder.
"I'm here," he whispered again.
The sea continued to crash. The stars continued to burn.
But in Asa's eyes, a storm had begun to gather.