Liberty

I was in love with the way he made me feel, singularly beautiful. I adored the way he smiled, like sunshine bursting from behind clouds. I relished the way he smelled, that purely masculine scent that couldn’t be found in any bottle. I treasured the sound of his voice, the deep tone like a smoothly plucked E string.

As he maneuvered the car out of the city the acrid scent of pollution was replaced, mile by mile, with the almost foreign smell of the countryside. Wide swaths of tall green grass moved in the gentle breeze, swelling and undulating like a land locked emerald ocean. Patches of wildflowers screamed their colors out from the crests of the soft waves, schools of shocking orange poppy fish, deep purple lupine eels and bright scarlet rose coral.

He lowered the top of the car, the black canvas peeling back to expose us to the sun’s warm rays, and I lifted my face to them, letting them pour over me and soak into my skin. I could feel the press of the golden light against my closed eyelids, and I smiled when I felt the caress of his fingers across my cheek.

Turning my head I opened my eyes and watched him, his dark eyes intent on the curves of the road which he deftly negotiated as though he’d traveled this path enough to have it committed to memory.

“So where are we going?” I asked, not for the first time as I brushed a stray lock of my chestnut hair out of my eyes.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” he replied, not for the first time, a sly smile quirking his mouth.

I knew better than to press him for more information, he wasn’t going to tell me, so I just tilted my face back up to the sun and was content in the moment. I let myself doze under the coaxing warmth of the sun, letting the chill of the city streets seep from my core and a remarkable calm crept over me.

When I felt the car begin to slow I opened my eyes, my lids heavy with sleep, and as he brought the car to a stop and turned the motor off the sudden press of silence deafened me. A city is never completely quiet, and the sudden onslaught of quiet was unfamiliar and left me feeling almost anxious.

His laugh rose up through the air like a falcon riding a thermal, “Relax,” he said with a wide smile before getting out of the car, “The country won’t hurt you.”

“Uh huh,” I replied as I climbed from the car, my shoes silent on the soft grass. Holding out his hand as he rounded the nose of the car, I slipped my fingers across his palm and his touch calmed my groundless nervousness.

He led me away from the car, the knee high grass tickling my exposed calves and as we crested a low hill my gaze fell on a huge pride of mountain lions and I froze. I glanced sideways at him and spoke at a whisper, “What was it you were saying about the country not killing me?”

Again he laughed, he actually laughed, and it seemed an odd thing to do considering the situation so I looked at him more fully. He stepped in front of me, taking my other hand as a very serious expression replaced his smile.

“You know that saying about something coming out of left field?” he asked, and I could only nod in response, unsure why he wasn’t more concerned about the animals he’d just trusted his back to. “Well, you’re standing in left field now, and here is what’s coming,” he paused as though working up the nerve to continue. “This family you see behind me is my family. I am, in part, like they are.”

My face must have conveyed my confusion because he stepped closer and cupped my face gently in his hands, laying a soft kiss on my lips. “I love you, and I want you always at my side,” again he paused, “I need to show you my other self, the other side of my nature, and I can only hope for your acceptance. If you can accept me, and if you can love both aspects of what I am, know that I can make you like me, you have only to consent.”

I heart was hammering in my chest almost painfully, and the pounding echo through my ears was backed by the sound of my blood racing through my veins. He back away slowly and the pride parted, creating a backdrop of tawny fur and whiskey colored eyes that went between watching him and watching me.

He removed his clothing as he walked, warm sunlight replacing fabric until he stood nude before me, draped in golden light. His eyes never left my face as his body transformed, shifting and reshaping itself, fur flowing to cover his skin until he stood before me as a large cat.

I stared into his face, seeing the spirit of the man I loved in those foreign eyes and knowing in my heart that I never wanted to be without him. I moved toward him, my feet following the trail of clothes that tied one form to the other, shedding my own as I moved. The pride closed in around us, encircling us and bearing witness to my own transformation.