Mikalo's Fate (The Mikalo Chronicles) by Syndra K. Shaw

curls of that intoxicating trail, the surprising firmness of his muscles.
    I took my hand away.
    Enough. I need to get outside.
    "Let's go for a walk."
    He shook his head.
    "No," he began. "I have something better for us to do."
     
     
     
     

Chapter Fifteen
     
    The sun beat down on my naked arms, my skin gleaming with sweat, the hand holding the hat on top of my head burning in the sun.
    I glanced over at Mikalo behind the steering wheel.
    White tank top, muscled shoulders burnished bronze and shining, his bare feet slipped into an old, frayed pair of sandals as they expertly worked the clutch and the gas, his muscled thighs partially hidden by his long blue shorts.
    He watched the road carefully from behind dark sunglasses, his hair ruffled by the wind as we navigated the slender strip of dirt as it wound up the hill and past the yellowing brush, the dust rising in the air behind us.
    I felt grateful for the security of this seatbelt holding me tight in this rusted out old Jeep. Earlier we had left the office, heading outside into the bright sun to trudge toward the garage where the cars were kept. Golf carts, jeeps, all-terrain vehicles, an older Mercedes or two.
    Mikalo had chosen a very old, rickety Jeep, the little boy in him excited by the thought of the wind whipping through his hair as the sound of the engine revved.
    I would have preferred the air conditioned comfort of one of the Mercedes.
    And with the blessings of one of the older Greek men who ran the garage and had known Mikalo since he was a boy, we were off.
    I gripped the side of the seat as we now bounced our way along a back road going to god knows where for god knows why. All Mikalo would tell me is I would love it and it was very important to him.
    So we climbed up, up, up into the hills of this little island somewhere off the sun-baked coast of Greece.
    The clear blue of the sky came closer and closer as we moved up and up. We must be nearing the end, I thought, the trail leveling out, the climb abating as we turned the corner through some brush, the windshield gently grazing the gnarled branches of the olive trees hanging over the path.
    We slowed, the trees and brush opening to a large flat space with an unbelievable view over the sea and onto the sky, those small neighboring islands dotting the water between here and the mainland looking like pebbles skimming the surface of all that blue.
    In the middle of this large patch of yellowing, overgrown grass it waited, Mikalo turning off the Jeep as he sat and looked at it.
    It was small, the walls made of large blocks of stone, the thatched roof bent and broken, the windows open to the ocean air and sea breezes.
    A stone house. We had driven for almost an hour into the hill through the brush on a dirt trail to find ourselves in front of a crumbling, derelict stone house.
    He sat quietly, his hands now in his lap, the fingers laced, like a little boy.
    I wanted to say something. Ask what this place was. Ask where we were. Ask if everything was okay.
    Was this where his parents first lived? Where his grandfather was born? Was this just an abandoned home he'd come to and hide out in when he was a boy?
    I really had no idea what was happening choosing instead to wait silently and allow Mikalo to take the lead when he was ready.
    A moment later, he slipped from the seat belt and slid out of the seat.
    I followed.
    He stood for a long moment.
    Walking around the front of the Jeep, I drew near, standing near, not sure what to do.
    He put his arm around my shoulders, dispelling my doubts.
    "What is this place?" I finally asked.
    "It is my dream," came the whispered reply, his voice breaking.
    "Come," he then said, grabbing my hand as we picked our way through the tall grass and broken rock littering the ground.
    Up close, the two room house looked even more derelict. The heavy stone of the walls was cracked and flaking. The glass of the windows was either broken beyond repair, great shards jutting up or