The touch of his lips against her skin, the stroke of his hand, felt so familiar and yet so incomprehensible. But then, some things defy explanation. The way he touched her reminded her of things that were impossible. His lean body against hers. The scent of his skin. The cloudy desire in those brooding eyes, so familiar. The only thing not part of her memories was the icy sensation of his skin beneath her fingers. And the beast that lurked under the surface of his loving touch, ready to devour. She wasn't aware of when he left, yet he haunted her dreams long after he was gone. Even as Jessie fought to wake from those dreams, part of her never wanted to leave again. Jessie moved to the window and stepped out onto the balcony. Below her were no longer the deserted streets of Bourdaqueste, but the landscaping of what was once a magnificent garden, winding gently up to meet the Carpathian Mountains beyond.
©2013 Mary Eason (P)2014 Mary Eason
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