Electra’s dictionary; definition of the guide through hell:

he is my reflection; I see my flaws in him but in him they become beautiful —the ones that do not seem to be what it is I fight within myself

he is everything I am not

both good and bad

all that I aspire to ....

he is brutal truth without apologies yet with surprising gentleness that it slips beneath my guard without my knowing, he slips the key into a lock to a door no one knows is there

Away from the madding crowds

I think it is the silence up here that lends some invisible net for the backdrop of façades to drop —or is it just the world has gone mad? .... only I feel there is a sense now that there has come a silent pact between us .... naturally unspoken .... as true honesty can best be heard by the heart; the seat of the soul; receipt

Whatever his missions are.... because as I have known it all along, from the first moment —when he turns to me now, the bolts he sends through me by just his look is enough to go by


“.....why have you been with me all this time if you never have trusted me, duva,?” he asks me


“It was not so much that I don’t trust you, Jörn —it was something else ....that I do trust ....and....  because I knew Jörn....you are the one .... the one who .... could figure it out....”

[a segway short]/Electra’s dictionary; Pandemic & other reasons for panic

It is about five hours to drive from the City back up to the Adirondacks 

All the way up we are quiet and ....it somehow feels like some exodus from a zombie movie; the strange feeling in the City that reminds me of another time there 

we don’t stop because of the paranoia about germs so we drive straight through, leaving suddenly after that conversation

He only tells me once on the expressway,

“there was more than one reason we had to go.”

This is all he says 

“....in the illustrious city of Florence in the fairest of cities of Italy, there made its appearance that deadly pestilence, which.... had its origin .... in the East, whence after destroying an innumerable multitude of living being, it had propagated itself without respite from place to place, and so calamitously, had spread into the West

“....despite all that human wisdom and forethought could devise to avert it by officials .... towards the beginnings of the spring the doleful effects of the pestilence began to be horribly apparent....” —from “The Decameron” by Giovanni Boccaccio, 1348

Kryptonite; the pirate with the vampire eyes; Electra’s Dictionary & film noir, (jm muse chronicles)

“Well, I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind

I left my body lyin’ somewhere in the sands of time ....

“You called me strong, you called me weak

But still your secrets I will keep.....

“I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon

After all, I knew it had something to do with you

“I’ll keep you by my side with my super human might....”
                                          —Kryptonite

lyrics from the song by 3 Doors Down


https://youtu.be/Tpl6ncyxLGw

*************

“It was a bad idea to come back to the City,” Jörn says sitting beside me on the bed, now facing the window as the first light of day touches the sky his fingers touch me absently; I watch him watch the sky alight as it slowly breaks “....especially now with this new virus— don’t go out today, I want you to stay here,” he says now

I watch him blink as the shards within his irises change like a kaleidoscope reacting to the sun, they glimmer

“I think we should go back up north,” he says to me and turns himself to look at me.... and it is something in his eyes that I see .... that I don’t think was there before.... what is that? he looks at me.... I put my hand up to his face as I sit up .... what is it? Only .... no, I have seen this before.

inside the pirate eyes —

but he just looks at me ....in that way ....

he puts his hand around mine that still touches his face but he just looks at me. Looks into me —his pale blond brows drawn now as he stares into my eyes

“I had the dream again, duva,” he says and suddenly takes hold of my face and skull inside both his hands as he moves to me and looks even more intently into my eyes

“Yes,” I say, “I heard you....” I tell him because it woke me as it mixed with my dreams. “And you got up to play that piece again ....”

He shuts his eyes and shakes his head,
“god, it was so real.... do you .... think about why, duva?” he asks me this against my ear

“Yes,” I reply —into his

It is as the sun floods light into the room that we both say together,

“back before the midnight sun ....” and we both shudder

He never usually talks about these things as I think he half chooses not to believe but then.... I guess he must get the images too....

the memories that clutch so within —the heart

sometimes I feel half mad for what I feel only.... the pirate has been with me for so long
now

....but our connection ....is hard to shrug off


“Is this the first time you’ve had the dream since last year?” I ask him

“No.... they seem to happen frequently but I don’t mention it because ....” he pulls his head from me to look into my eyes as he thinks and seems to search for words. For awhile he just studies my face with a kind of wonder and outlines my lips with his thumbs

So I say,
“it was a promise.”

His eyes become sharp as blades as he stares into me with an icy heat,
“yes....”

I realize I’ve been holding my breath

but I can’t hold it now and let it out and search his eyes to see if he knows what it means

Suddenly he says,
“I have to get you out of here.”

Electra’s dictionary; part 2 illumination, (of human bondage; defining the bondage of boundaries)

When we return inside and start to head down the darkened hallway that goes past the bedrooms in a row and then pass the public area I realize that Andreas is walking towards Ethan’s study —the one that has now become repossessed and maybe it is the lighting, the dark shadows on the wall of the hallway and the strange amber colored light from some glowing sign off a building outside —but

I get this feeling

like a chill.... and it shudders through me, it runs up and down all of me and through my extremities as I feel my face become flushed

I catch my breath and stumble

“Are you all right?” Andreas turns to me

“Yes, just dizzy,” I say and lean against the wall .... it was a sudden feeling .... a strange emotion

out of relation to now

yet I feel it with all of my being and I don’t understand it. I remember this exact feeling that I feel about Jörn ....remember? —remember....I remember this

I force myself to not give into hyperventilating as I feel it squeeze my lungs impulsively because of the image of his face in my memory ....it was such a long time ago it; such a long life time ago with the shadows just this way. The fire.... the forge .... the fear of him and the glow of the silver crescent moon that he held that belonged not to that girl —it was the mother’s

It is not unusual to get sudden flashes of ....the pirate and the life that was that girl’s as it continues sometimes during sleep or in a moment caught in a day dream —they exist in parallel and have since I have slept each night beside Jörn and seem to live.... on ....their own life; simultaneous with now

as I have always been a spiritual person anyway these things are not so strange to me as things I have come to know and have known but — I keep much of this to myself from here; I avoid this in the legend because well, it is strange to speak of


I only mention it now because —it seems .... there is something to it ....and I realize once again as I have since I first met Jörn that.... there is something between us .... something that goes beyond what I understand

but I realize there must also be a reason why Gerald keeps having visions because ....

but no, I don’t get to think past this thought as the study door opens

Several men and two women all walk out together; all in business attire and all speaking Swedish

As they leave the study in the group they only give me a perfunctory glance and head out to the penthouse elevator with Jörn but he stops beside me and puts his hand on my arm,
“wait for me here....” he says against my ear and goes

I watch him walk with them ....and stare for a long moment. I notice how intimidating he is in a business suit —the tailored cut outlines all his angles to his best advantage, the dark glossy blueish gray color that reflects off his eyes

“So are you officially seeing Madison?” I ask Andreas and we go inside the study

He smiles, and puts away his phone,
“I’m spending the weekend at her place.”

I smile at him and then look around at the debris of cups and glasses from the meeting, “....well, have a good weekend,” I say and start to collect the mess to bring it to the penthouse kitchen

“Here, let me,” and he helps me to the kitchen before he goes

It does not take long to wash up as I notice the new dishwasher Ilya recently had installed —and— this jogs a thought ....

like..... how I first came to be contacted about the Ethan estate and.... so soon after Nigel and I ended and why .... ? and after all these years

and .... I think too.... yet look how comfortable Jörn has eased himself into the lair

and .... I have begun to realize ....these all seem to add up to something


you know—I always found it odd how Joanie and Johnny contacted me from out of nowhere —and because of the timing ....because at the time I had nowhere else to go .... and I had no time to give it more thought which I should have done .... I guess.... right?

because soon after was when I met Jörn....

this is when I notice Andreas has left the roach on the kitchen counter —I don’t suppose Ilya would much appreciate that to start her Monday morning so I decide to leave it outside on the roof somewhere

Jörn texts me

Not long after his text I go back in and go through; pass that strange amber colored glow and to the study but I hear voices so I stop outside the door and knock

No it is only Jörn’s voice, and realize he’s on a phone call

“kom in!” he shouts from inside through the door

When I go in I hear him speaking to someone with a note of anger and nearly shouting and he pulls loose his tie in aggravation

it is a nice tie, I notice, as I walk over to him. I like the colors on him, like a sunset of indigos and lavender and the design is unusual

“Hanna!” he shouts and goes off with a firing squad of words that crash over my head but clearly he’s angry and it has something to do with krona and Erik

I wonder if I should leave ....?

I start to go for the door but he stops me by standing in front of it and now he starts to speak in English to her —what? for my benefit ....?

“I don’t understand how you make so much money on a shoot and now you need how much? And the answer to whether Erik can stay at the penthouse is ‘no’!”

“Wait—“ I look at him and pull his sleeve, “why are you telling her that?”

He narrows his eyes at me which turn deadly that way with all that ice and steel as he says, covering the speaker part,
“she wants him to move in here, that’s not happening, duva!”

“I can hear you,” Hanna says from his phone

He presses the mute button, and before he speaks I say,

“you do realize that if you tell her ‘no’ she will find another way to do it and you won’t like it,” I point out

“What do you mean?” he asks me

“At least here you can watch her,” I say

Hanna keeps shouting “hello?”

I take his phone and tap the button,
“Hanna?”

“Duvan!—can you talk to him?” she asks me

“When are you coming?” I ask her

“As .... soon as my dad .... can wire us money for the flight,” she says

Which he hears

His expression is kind of sarcastic as he looks at me. It makes me laugh. Inappropriately. And maybe I laugh much too hard and it would have been a good idea to stop I guess

But he says,
“you’re right,” after he puts down the phone afterwards, “despite your Jimmy Hendricks haze,” he says and goes to the window to look down at the street and undoes the knot of the tie, “they live their own lives, don’t they? Since the day they are born we teach them how to live on their own but when they actually go to do it, it is a shock when you realize .... as parents we soon won’t matter because they must have their own life —and we must as well....”

And the haze ... aside, this makes me think about that New York Times article and I say,
“psychology .... the study of human behavior .... Now pathology ....do you know about that?” and we stare at each other

After a long silence he sighs heavily and walks around to stand in front of the desk. Then leans with his arms folded

“So who were those people? And why the tie?”I ask bored with waiting for him to start

“They’re....” he stops and shrugs out of his jacket and walks over to me, “the tie—I had to go to the Swedish consulate— things are .... getting sticky —you are right, you are in danger —“

“Oh, now you say, but back in August—“

“Well, it’s the safe, somehow it seems it has come out it exists and just a second I just remembered I’ve been meaning to ask you—did you say you recognized someone there—at Lincoln Center?”

“Oh my god.... “ I say now because being here now.... I suddenly remember, “I know where I know him from —the one who came —here— that time! Remember? It was way back— when was that? This summer.... yes, it was.... That time we were doing the museum night ....I told you there was a man who—“

“Yes—you did! I forgot about that—what did he look like?”

“Dark hair —thirties ..... nerdy ....”

Jörn goes to his computer and opens up a file then with one finger waves at me to come look

He has a picture of someone which ....

“Yes— that’s him but his hair is short now,” I say

He reaches for his phone and taps a message and puts down his phone

“So the safe and the table are on their way to Sweden right now,” he tells me and clears his throat, “that’s what those people were here for.... “

“Do you work for them?” I ask

He smiles ironically,
“they would like that....”

“Do you?”

“No. They are a secret branch of .... well, you don’t need to know but —with all the possible connections to what is in the safe.... names .... strategies .... it’s come up on the radar and it has been decided those two things should not be on this side of the Atlantic —especially right now as it is a US presidential campaign year ....” now shrewdly he looks at me, turning cold eyes to me, “and you think I’m ready to sell you off to the highest bidder....Do you wonder why I’m with you, duva? Do you think that’s all it has been about?” Jörn asks me

I look at him but don’t answer. I just look at him

“You think it’s because of the code? Do you really think that is why?”

I don’t answer right away. He is making me nervous. There is something about him at times that terrifies me,

“Well.... why would you be photographing a total stranger.... even before we ever met?”

Jörn thinks about that and nods and then walks back over to the window to look out as he thinks. And because it such a long silence I decide to sit down ....and stare at designs in the carpet for quite a long time

“You really don’t .... “ he says more like a whisper to himself

“What?” I ask and deeply regret not tossing that roach when I meant to. Of all times this would be the worst moment to not be able to think clearly

“You really don’t trust me,” he says this so strangely and then turns around and looks at me then walks over to me, “stand up,” he says

“Why?”

He pulls me up,
“take off your coat,” but he does it for me and tosses it, “Take off your shirt and your bra,” he says and pulls me in front of him and starts to pull my shirt off

“What are you doing?” I pull back but he turns me back and does it himself

He unbuttons his shirt and puts  his shirt on me,
“come here....” he says and brings me over to the mirror by the Art Deco bar and stands behind me in the mirror and takes his tie to put around my neck, under the collar of his shirt

and it could be the purple haze, it is hard to say exactly what I find myself thinking —overwhelmed by him, staring at our reflection in Ethan’s Art Deco mirror .... as he does a Windsor knot on me leaving most of the buttons open .... and then he moves hands under his shirt to touch me and runs his hands down the front of me to tease me and bends his head to me to say something into my ear that makes me shudder.... but I don’t know his words but his meaning seems clear

but then he goes back to the desk and then comes back to me,
“do you know what this is?” he holds something up that looks like a narrow pointy tool

“No.”

“It’s a key,” he says. “Do you know what keys do?”

“Open locks,” I say and find that I wonder what it is —that compels me because even as I feel overwhelmed I can’t seem to move away from him —and I don’t seem to ....want to

“For this,” he says and then without warning —puts me in handcuffs, “boundaries, duva!.... trust and boundaries,” he stares at me in that fierce way

“Please, Jörn, what are doing? You are starting to scare me,” I tell him

he takes the key and undoes one cuff but then he puts it on himself so that we are cuffed together

“Does —this— scare you?” he asks against my ear

“Yes,” I say

“We’re even, though,” he says

“No, you’re bigger,” I say

He undoes the cuff from me and walks away from me. He walks across the room swinging the wrist still cuffed like a bracelet so that it jingles when he walks and then he walks back over to me

He takes his belt off and looks at me

“That’s not fair ....” I say

but he smiles in such a twisted way

“Come here,” he says

“No,” I say as I watch him fold it in half and crack it but he reaches for me and pulls me back to the desk where the key is. Then picks up the key and tosses it across the room, then cuffs his other wrist

He looks at me,
“are you still scared?”

“Jörn....what does this prove?”

“Who would you say is in control now?” he asks

So I just look at him

He shrugs

“Do you want me to get the key?” I ask and start to go but he catches me within the loop of his arms and pushes me up against the desk standing behind me, putting his hands against my lower abdomen and leans pressing himself to the back of me

“Who is in control now?” he asks me against my ear and puts his mouth along my neck to bite and then kiss my skin but I don’t answer him, “do you want me to stop?” he asks me but then moves against me and uses his fingers to unbutton my jeans and he asks the question again but I don’t answer, then he asks with a whisper into my ear, “do you trust me?”

but I say,
“no.”

only it is awhile that I don’t move. quite awhile

and I could if ....I wanted to and it is this way that he says to me,
“yes at first I studied you for my work .... but then it became more .... “ only the last word is almost lost on me because of something that at that moment he does

Electra’s dictionary (& film noir); illumination; the dawn of Meaning, Life and Revelation Part 1 (jm muse chronicles)

dear dictionary.....


I stay in quiet counsel with myself off the penthouse rooftop that once presided over a black-panther’s citadel

and wonder as I think —do I seek Meaning or do I seek Truth or something else ?

because I sense with some deep knowing that this path is not random


The cotton-ball fog that presses within I know what it has to do with and every time —the moment— comes to face the face of truth ....the fog takes over and pulls me under ....because it is that moment

the moment I reach to press my hand up to the glass

.... I fear what is there. as it seduces me and emasculates as it fills me with wretchedness

even when you bang your head up to the severed glass wall, all the shattered selves that fall like confetti never get it out and not even the devices reach far enough inside to cleanse it out to deliver me from these things I cannot face

there is no escape

there is no outward, no inward where it does not follow me and there does not exist any real means, no priest, no doctor to reprieve to shed and light this darkness

And I think this, I think these thoughts as I wonder again about Life and Truth and Purpose

I know this is my journey

I know why I document


as bad as she was she was not as bad as he was but neither one was a parent to me

Apparently

and I found the doorway through

yes even the knight walked away .... and the way back got lost

but don’t waste pity there; it is only that she held the source that I need to find or.... it seems she holds the codes that are both real and symbolic because i believe that it holds some essential message that speaks as if from voices lost .... like those on caveman walls, or those long washed away in the timeless sand and I have always felt and do —caught in a current I have no control over, even as I try my best to surf it



But these thoughts get interrupted when I hear the scrape of a shoe

“Hej....” Andreas walks over to me where I’m sitting on the cement floor of the roof. He wears no coat, just jeans and a few layers of shirts and sweaters, all in various shades of blue. “You know there are actually chairs out here,” he says this in a teasing way and smiles at me looking a bit too much like his father which makes me wonder. He adds, “and a few couches.”

“Hmmm....” I say but turn to look at the sky instead and across the horizon of skyscrapers that seem, once again, like headstones; not to belabor a theme

He slides down the wall next to me and sits down,

“are you ok about .... you know,” and here he shrugs as he settles himself beside me

“You mean all the drama at Lincoln Center?” I ask him and sharply look at his face to read it for clues as he is at that age before they learn to be aware of the things that show

and I am granted a glimpse

I see it in his eyes.

I sigh,
“have you ever Googled your father?” still I watch

He smiles,
“I’m sure he does,” and laughs with a note of something like awe

“Did you know he has published things?” I ask him because it is only something I just found

Andreas tilts his head thoughtfully,
“I know he has written about music theory but you won’t find that on the internet....” but then he looks at me dropping the cavalier façade. “Are you really asking me about his Intelligence work for the government?”

“So you do know....?” I watch his expression

“Well....” he tries to hide his smile but then shrugs, “only recently.... I have always suspected ....” he smiles at me, “I’m surprise you know. I mean— he’d never tell my mother something like this.”

“But he told —you—?” I ask

he shakes his head,
“no. He never told me....” again he smiles, “but after the other night he can no longer deny it.”

I wonder what he means? So I read his face and study how his eyes look to and away from me

“Finally he just said— it was right after what happened and he asked me to walk you to your seat.... I mean, I just asked him again if he’s some kind of secret agent and I guess his way of telling me he just said ‘don’t tell your mother! Not a word about any of this!’ ....” his youthful azure eyes open wide to say his meaning as he looks directly into my eyes as he shrugs as if to say ‘obviously says it all’ “and not to tell Hanna. I guess my ‘farmor ‘ and ‘farfar’ know,” Andreas seems mostly amused and if not more than a bit impressed

I think about this looking at rooftops, only seeing other things

“He’s written about pathology,” I tell Andreas

“Pathology? Isn’t that ....” he hesitates as he seems unsure, “is that like criminal psychology?”

“It includes criminal psychology,” I say now with a heavy sigh and I say, “I don’t know why I just told you that but you can find it on the internet so it’s not like I’m saying this behind his back ....” only .... I think to myself, I just found this whilst sitting here with my phone before he stepped out

and I find this disturbing

“I can understand how it allows him to investigate —“

Andreas interrupts me,
“why would it be on the Internet?”

“It was an interview he did with the New York Times when he first joined the Lincoln Center Philharmonic....” I think as I say this and watch him for more hints, “the interviewer found out he has a degree in this .... and wanted to know how it relates to music ....” I glance at my phone as I still have the article open and I say, “and asked how your dad had come to have some things published in a few peer reviewed journals ....”

Andreas is genuinely surprised and almost shocked

“Well—so.... what did he tell him?”

“That it keeps his mind sharp for music,” I say and I laugh because that is his typical kind of reply to awkward questions and he has used that one on me

“So.... how much do you know, if you don’t mind if I ask you?” Andreas looks at me

I shrug,
“not much more.”

“Well, I thought it was weird when I saw him studying photographs of you before you guys met,” he laughs

“Wait!—what?” I sit up straight  and stare at him

“Skit!” and his face goes bright red

I look away.

Ja. Shit....

and lean my head into my hands covering my eyes trying to think

“What kind of photos?” I ask him

But I see he has now taken out a joint and sparks it inside his hoodie,

“here,” he says and hands it to me after taking a drag, “you seem like you need this....”

But at first I only stare still stuck on the revelations

none of this should be truly shocking if I were to be honest and it is not as if he directly lied. I would not jump to the conclusion that Jörn is a liar but he seems to favor .... not telling —is that lying? No, not really and .... I have had about a year to get used to the idea that he is a spy so how can I blame anyone but myself for knowing ....that Jörn has his secrets; in fact secrets are —his— MO.... but then, who am I to say about judging anyone’s dark secrets?

Or is it the weed frying me and influencing my thoughts? because .... it all doesn’t seem as bad now

sitting here with Andreas talking about it as if it is all very normal .... I mean, look who my father was —a politician and reverend who was adept at bending rules to fit his own self governed lifestyle and flaunted it all publicly without shame .... but he was not a bad person —a rebel with a cause and.... well, a bit wicked.... but, I think he had to be to let off some steam for all the civil rights laws he passed trying to put justice where none exists and eventually that nonexistence of justice beat him out —

“Here—“ Andreas socks me in the mouth with the joint

“Skit! dude,” I say, “give me some warning!” still; appropriately I take it from him with a kind of homage and salute, a gesture of a toast, “to Ethan Rhys-Jones,” I say and as I hand it back to him I ask, “aren’t you worried your dad will....”

but the rest of my sentence gets lost somewhere and I forget to finish it

“Oh. No. He said he thought you could use it so he sent me out here —and to get you.”

message in a bottle, notes to a stranger; Electra’s dictionary (jm muse chronicles as guide through hell)

At first the adrenalin seems to keep us from winding down after, as he sits up in bed with his laptop

but still, I hear the music echo in my head .... even as the fight in me is momentarily exhausted, I feel tension next to him —I want to know what he did to me and how he did it .... and I go over the bits my mind has not erased

is it that I should not trust him?

Or that I can’t trust him.... because I don’t know how ....? only how do I know the ones to trust?  the ones you feel the most for ....are the most dangerous

walls and masks like shields....nothing comes in and nothing ....


as I turn my side away from him, he reaches for me anyway

and pulls me inside his cocoon along with his laptop, no doubt doing his spy work; checking emails—indeed; as the cosmic ones await reply

I think about the pirate ....with the vampire eyes; those wise and tragic, ageless eyes with their wild and fierce beauty

and find I wonder why it is that she decides to trust him

Is it that he is the only barricade against a barbaric world —? as he is one of the tribe of a species she fears—does she find safety in him because he is the best defense?

only I know it is something else

something that lies inside the vampire eyes that haunt through lifetimes and never die

but my thoughts still persist disrupted and go in circles,

Gerald said a prize

Jörn puts his laptop down and reaches suddenly for me, but my mind is still much disturbed and I jolt and pull away from him which —upsets him....?

I think it is his reaction that surprises me.... he looks at me like ....

I am not familiar with what it means —because I don’t think, till now, I have ever seen him reveal anything

“What is it?” I ask him as it somehow shocks me

but he only looks at me like that .... and then we sit facing each other on his bed, my knees up to my chest

“You don’t trust me?” he says it like a slap as his eyes burn into me

and I find that I wonder at the anger in his eyes

—only no.... it is not anger. I am mistaken

He reaches for me anyway  ....and at first I want him to because of his eyes— something I have never seen.... but something makes me try to stop him and then I am confused ....

because I want to just go within myself ....

to try to understand what he did to me at the piano .... and I guess withdraw ....from him —because it is my defense and my oldest MO of all

 ....which is why

I start to fight him; I attack him physically with pathetic punches that barely land and kicks that hurt me more

“Do you really not trust me, duva? Even after all this time?” he takes my wrists and holds me down

“How do I know what you have been up to with all your secrets? What have you proven to me?” I ask, “you demand everything, don’t you? But what do you share?”

even as that is true, I think somehow.... I know.... that really, I am not really fighting him, am I? I am fighting something else; something inside a dark safe ....which he knows ....and he’s known it all along .... because he has been figuring me out


 ....or thinks he has—is it just for his spy collection jars? His dossier

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” I ask him, “like some notch in your belt.”

—I think, like his toy puzzle for his amusement ....trying to figure out how all the pieces go together for.... him to exploit? —once he has

“What are you talking about?” he says leaning over me and lets go my wrists, his hair now fallen loose from the tie during our struggle in long golden streams past his chin, and though caught by what I look at, seeing him as an artist sees a muse to paint, I think:

My code is my worth

—is that what Gerald meant?

a prize?

I stare at his mouth and reach up to touch him and put my fingers in his hair to feel its texture and then reach to pull his head to me to kiss him but he stops me and stares into my eyes

—prizes and pirate’s jewels and eyes like slate that dazzle like a pirate’s gems; such wise and tragic, ageless eyes with their fierce and wild beauty

“Do you really not trust me, duva?” he asks again and now he takes hold of both my wrists and pulls them over my head and looks down at me, then touches me like it is an unquenchable need....

no, not anger, it is something else