Chapter 28 Sit and Stay

He accepts my gift without a word, drinking the golden liquid — an ancient thing, alive with magic both healing and wild. I close my eyes, surrendering to an intimacy deeper and older than language. In that endless hush — rock art above, life between — something is exchanged: strength, hope, the promise of survival. We linger in the glow, anchored to each other and to the stories painted on the walls, unaware of the dangers gathering just beyond the cave’s mouth.

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Elena, forgive me. What you saw tonight was the wolf in me, wild and free. I wasn’t the lover you knew, the one who followed in your shadow and cherished every step. Tonight, the beast took over — restless from the Sahel winds and the emptiness that wears men down until something raw breaks loose. I scared you.

You frightened me, yes. But you also reminded me how fragile this thread is — between devotion and devouring. You’ve never touched me so violently. Tell me, Asdar — was it desire, or madness?

Both. And neither. It was you — the eternal river I first entered years ago. You showed me what love-making meant, how devotion becomes real. But tonight, those golden drops opened the gate wider than I could handle. The animal in me wanted to take over.

And now? Do you regret it?

Not regret. Remorse. I let the wolf come so close I saw your body pull away. I never wanted that.

Then swear, Asdar, that this wolf of yours will not tear apart the man who stands before me — the man who has learned patience at my side.

I swear. But I can’t promise he won’t return. The magic inside you is growing, Elena. Our children — not yet born — already make every breath between us heavier, more dangerous, more sacred. The wolf will sense them. He won’t find gentleness easily.

So what you’re warning me is that tonight was only the beginning.

Yes. And I have to ask you — not just as your lover but as your protector — whether it’s still wise to carry this story through Africa. The road is wild. Spirits, people, the elements. And in the middle of it all, I worry about what I might become if I lose control again. There’s something else. You need to know — it’s not just me.

Others?

Your body carries more than life. It gives off something older, something hard for men nearby to bear. Tonight, the golden drops broke down what kept me in control. But Tarmo will feel the same storm. He is the father of the second heart that beats inside you. As your womb grows heavier with both children, the call you carry will only get stronger. It’s not just allure, Elena. It’s command.

You’re saying my very being will call the wolf in him, as it does in you.

His connection is both shadow and blood. He will be drawn into the same wildfire. You need to think about this before we keep sharing your story with others across Africa.

And what — must I dim myself? Walk cloaked and silent so that men do not unravel? You ask me to fear every heartbeat of my own body?

No. Never hide your light. Just remember — from now on, our story isn’t only about words.

The firelight flickers off the cave walls. I let his warning settle, then feel the smirk arrive before I can stop it.

So let me get this straight — the wolf in you is pacing the cave, and somewhere out there, Tarmo’s about to start howling at the moon? Remind me never to walk barefoot past a sheepfold, Asdar, or we’ll begin a local legend.

Don’t mock. The fire in you is real. It burned through me tonight — and it will burn through others.

Well, maybe you two can form a nice little pack and chase each other around the cave while I get some actual storytelling done. Did none of you men ever consider simply talking out your wildness instead of letting it devour your heads?

You joke. But this is sacred.

And I want you to see, my young priest lover, that a woman’s magic is not always a curse upon the world. If Tarmo starts baring teeth, I’ll tell him to sit and stay. Men may be wolves. But I haven’t lost my voice.

I.Ph.