Tales of the Wastelander Ch. 45 - Teaser (Patreon)

Rayleena returned to the booth with two mugs of lightly spiced tea, one of which she pressed into Samara’s hand before sitting beside her daughter, Solena. The older woman smiled knowingly at her, then gave her a slight tilt of the head toward Zahn, who stood leaning against one of the support beams, arms crossed, watching Samara with that quiet, heavy-lidded calm he always carried.

“Looks like you’re about finished,” Rayleena said gently.

Samara took a slow sip of the tea and exhaled. “Just about. I’ve got energy for one more if anyone wants it.”

There was a moment of stillness, and then Zahn pushed off the post and approached with a ghost of a smirk.

“I was wondering,” he said, voice low and even, “if you’d do a portrait of Rayleena and me.”

Rayleena blinked, surprised, but her smile widened immediately. “Really? You sure?”

Zahn gave a single nod, and for a second, a flicker of vulnerability passed across his face. “We haven’t had anything like that in… well, ever. Just something for the wall back home.”

Samara blinked, warmed by the request. “I’d be honored.”

They sat on the small wooden bench in front of her, instinctively close, Rayleena’s thigh brushing against Zahn’s, his arm resting behind her back. It wasn’t posed, not consciously, but it was them. Years of shared space, shared breath, of trust and cohabitation and long silences that never felt lonely. Samara could see it instantly.

But more than that, she saw what others likely missed. The way Rayleena’s fingers grazed Zahn’s knee with a subtle, affectionate touch. How Zahn’s eyes never strayed far from her. The way their bodies inclined toward one another, not out of habit, but hunger held in patience. Even after raising two children through hard seasons and lean years, the desire hadn’t gone anywhere. It had simply deepened… smoldering like coals beneath a steady flame.

“Alright,” Samara murmured, setting her charcoal to the page. “Don’t smile just yet. Just… look at each other. Like you would if no one else were watching.”

They did, and Samara’s breath caught. Rayleena tilted her head, one brow arching just slightly, a slow smile tugging at her lips as her gaze fixed on Zahn with heat and adoration. Zahn, for his part, returned the look in full, his expression open in a way few had ever seen. His eyes were darker, deeper, like he was looking at the first and last person he would ever want. It wasn’t showy or exaggerated… it was real.

Samara began to draw. Each line felt less like motion and more like discovery, her charcoal catching the lines of Rayleena’s cheek, the curve of her shoulder where Zahn’s fingers grazed her upper back, the deliberate closeness of their bodies. She accentuated the tilt of Rayleena’s hips just slightly toward Zahn, framed the strength in his jaw, the tension in his hand where it rested against her waist. Not just a portrait of love, but one of want.

She imbued it with that almost sacred intimacy, that truth known only between long lovers who still craved one another. The line between affection and passion, between soulmates and mates in body. She didn’t need to show skin, didn’t need to reveal anything more than what was already there, pulsing like a current just beneath the surface.

When she finished, she didn’t hand it over immediately. Instead, she looked at it—really looked at it—and felt tears prick at her lashes.

She had what they had once and hoped he still had it. The way Ben had touched her, the way he’d looked at her before they were separated… that had been real, too. And she hadn’t stopped wanting him for even a second.

‘Please still be alive,’ she thought. ‘Please still want me.’