Where are we? Angelina asked, her voice fading to a whisper in his mind.
Above the tombs. He laid her nak*d body down on the ancient slab of jade and felt the living rock mold to her form. His eyes held hers. Angelina. . .
Stellan, she whispered as her heart beat for the last time. I love you . . . I love you. . .
Sunset
Thursday, January 5, 1933
ANGELINA FELT A tingling in her limbs. Warmth infused her as silky water washed back and forth like a tide over her nak*d skin. Her hair floated and rippled down her body, tickling her belly and thighs. A rich, delicious aroma engulfed her, and she drank it in, the metallic taste searing down her throat, into her spine, and into her limbs. For uncountable moments, she basked in the offering until memory jolted her mind. Stellan! she screamed. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped. Stellan!
He smiled down at her. I’m here.