Chapter One
Walking around the bench, she stood before him. She desperately wanted to gaze deeply into his eyes and believe that she could heal his sadness. She swallowed past the lump in her dry throat. "I do not lie, friend. I'm happy to have found you."
In her dreams, she wore no finery, just simple gowns. Freeing garments that denoted no class or sect, only accentuated her curves and allowed for freedom in movement. She was a woman, but more importantly a person. Individual and strong. There were no comments from him on how to behave like a lady. In the DreamWorld, she gained freedom not just from her station, but also from her life. In her dreams, Wyen could do, could be, anything. Oddly, at that moment, she discovered she wanted nothing more than this man's happiness.
Judgment never escaped his lips on her being the High Princess of Yadderwal. He never asked about her duties. She spoke of her responsibilities, never detailed, for that would be treason, but enough to gain insight and wisdom into how to handle many important decisions. He was her counsel of sorts. If her counsel had lost heart, Wyen feared she might do the same.
"Perhaps," he granted magnanimously.
"I was scared," she admitted, "when I could not locate you. I felt you. I came. As soon as I could." Her words sounded so lacking. "But then, once I came, you were not there and I could not find you no matter how hard I tried. The more I looked the more dense the Myst became."
"You could not reach me, little one, because you have ceased to believe." His passionate teal eyes rose to challenge her. Their unblinking intensity scorched her.
"Believe?" What a curious statement. "Believe in what? Of course I believe."
He shook his head.
"Of course I do," she scoffed. "In a great many things, point in fact. I believe you are my friend. I believe without your wise counsel, I should surely crumble. Therefore, I need you strong. We all have bad days. But trust when I say it will get better."
"Is that what I am? Your counsel?" Counsel suddenly sounded like a derogatory term.
She watched his eyes, the set of his jaw for some emotion, some indicator that her words had made things better, but she saw nothing. To be deemed royal counsel was a great honor. Truthfully, he seemed annoyed by her declaration.
"That you are," her hand grazed the stubble of his jaw, "and more."
"How much more, Wyennie? Tell me this, for I must know."
His childhood name for her had never ceased to make her smile, until today. All trace of laughter disappeared from her lips and her stomach flipped. She'd injured him, but was not certain how. "You are my every-"
Before she could finish the word "everything", he reached out. His strong hands encircled her narrow waist. He drew her to him. Not a hard task, for suddenly she felt malleable and weak. He pulled her to his lap. Her gown rustled over the cherry blossoms at their feet. His lips claimed hers. In a kiss unlike any they shared before, friendship cast aside for hunger and passion.
Of its own accord, one of her hands slipped to the corded muscles of his neck. Hot skin greeted her. Her thumb fluttered over the angle of his jaw. She leaned in closer. Wyen felt a foreign sensation tingle in her toes, steadily growing in breadth and depth. Then quickly consuming her. It wasn't possible, but her entire body felt stroked with the kiss as his sweet teeth skimmed the flesh of her lower lip. Warmth breathed through her pores, absorbed by her core. Yearning and churning in to a heated bundle of nerves, low in the pit of her stomach. Her hand slid from the flexing muscles in his jaw to the thick layers of his glorious hair. The silky strands feathered with her touch, gliding through her fingers.
"Believe." His hot breath whispered against her neck.
She couldn't breathe. Didn't need to breathe. As long as he touched her, she never needed to breathe again. Here. This moment. Embraced by this man. She felt alive! Her head tipped back, granting him full access to her throat and exposed chest. He accepted her invitation, trailing tender kisses across her flushed skin. Her vision blurred, then refocused. The grey Myst formed odd patterns around, above and, Wyen was almost certain, below them. She had the most odd sensation of floating, suspended in time and place. The perfect limbo. Watching the swirling Myst surrounding them hypnotized her. She sighed as his lips skimmed over the delicate ridge of her collarbone, calculatingly nipping at the vee of her throat.
"I need you to believe."
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She would believe anything he asked of her.
"Sometimes ..." His thumb traced the gentle swell of her bottom lip. He pulled back. "Sometimes, my love, believing means taking action."
Her head snapped up.
A faint, sad smile curved his lips. "Time grows short, little one. It is now out of my hands. The choice is yours."
Wyen lifted her gaze, locking her pale blue gaze with the liquid heat of his teal. She shook her head. "Time grows short? For what?"
The Myst swept in. The patterns dissipated as the Myst wrapped itself around them.
"What do you mean? Time grows short?" Panic edged her voice, still husky with desire. She sensed anger. Not from him. He was sad. This was distinctly from the Myst. "Whose time? What time?"
Instead of the comfort it had earlier provided, the Myst began to pull and separate, the distance between the couple growing. No longer could Wyen feel her companion's touch, or sense his heat. She knew she was slipping. She felt torn. Pain ripped through her. Her fragile grasp on the DreamWorld shattered.
"Come back!" she cried, but to no avail. Once again, Hafwyen, High Princess of the royal house of Trevelian, was alone.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Sudden Fallby Kally Jo Surbeck Copyright © 2007 by Kally Jo Surbeck. Excerpted by permission.
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