Book Reviews are important to authors. Authors depend on book reviews because our potential customers depend on book reviews. Many of us use book reviews as we fish through the never ending ocean of stories.
Atleah, Book 1 in the Gurruffallo Series,
is on sale, for a limited time, on Amazon,
$1.99.
Please enjoy Chapters One and Eleven
one
Tonight's warm fall weather made my trek to the park worth it. There were no clouds to block my view of the sun as it slowly descended over the steady flowing river. The rippling water lightly caressed the orange and yellow hues that reflected on the surface. Sunset is one of my favorite times of the day, even though it brings me the most sadness. The other is sunrise. I have spent many years wondering this planet, and there is nothing purer or more magnificent than the beginning and ending of each day.
I am following a young couple, who are frolicking on the park swings a few yards from me. We share a strong connection. Neither of them knows I am watching because they are not supposed to. I am expected to watch and wait for something significant to happen. After I left Atleah, five-hundred-years ago, I never went back and therefore never found out what causes the connections. One rule of immortality I do understand is no contact or interfering with the connections.
Armand, an immortal I have not seen in centuries explained some of the rules to me during my first few days as one of them. Another rule is every connection involves two immortals. I have been running from the others because Thor, the immortal who married my sister, promised Armand would come for me. When I feel a connection, I follow it to see if it is Armand. If it is not, I disappear.
It is never easy to break a connection. A hard pull takes over my body leading me toward it, like my insides are being ripped out of my skin. I do not have to know the person or even see them. Sometimes I am guided to a place. Once I reach the person or place, my connection demands me to find, the feeling dies. If I break the connection, it causes excruciating pain followed by death-like symptoms. After breaking connection after connection, it gets easier and less painful, but in the end, the result is always the same.
I have not seen Armand since I left Ireland. Thor helped me escape Meleseus' castle and told me Armand would come for me when the time is right. Thor and I were in agreement nothing good would come of me being with the rest of the immortals. During that era, they had been torn between Meleseus and Armand and I did not need to be in the middle of their tiffs. Not only that, I believe Meleseus is evil. He never revealed any evil desires to me, although I only spoke with him briefly. It is a strong feeling of dislike for Meleseus that makes my stomach flip-flop.
When I first met Meleseus, he all but demanded that I stand by his side, as his wife, and rule with him. He promised me things that I had never dreamed. At least not during that time in my life. Even today I am not sure what we would rule – his castle and the people in it? Most girls would jump all over an offer such as that, but I could not.
For whatever reason, Meleseus wants an immortal girl. He said, “It is for permanent companionship instead of momentary company.” Those had been his exact words. I do not believe him. There is more to his story. I call it Woman's Intuition.
Even though I am on the run constantly, I do well for myself. Over the last five-hundred-years, I have learned and inherited many things including fluent languages, money, investments, houses all over the world and I have no problem disappearing when need be.
“Excuse me,” came a soft voice. “Can you take our picture?” The young girl motioned to her and her boyfriend. I have been connected to them for more than a year now. Her beauty is overwhelming and still surprises me. She is roughly seventeen – same as me – with long black hair, nearly to her waist, and violet eyes. She is about average height for this time era, which puts her three to four inches taller than myself, with an excellent body.
Throughout her parent's circles, she is known as Wichita's Princess, and she plays the part well. Her luxurious life is owed to the most recommended surgeon and the top defense attorney in Wichita being her parents. There are many doors open in her future. Other kids her age will have to work twice as hard for the same opportunities that will be available to her.
I took the digital camera from her and nodded. For the first time, I looked at her boyfriend. He is rough. I stared at him through the picture screen of her camera. He has a powerful physique with shaggy, dark hair that falls across his eyes. He does not have half the options available to him that she does. They stood in front of the calm, steadily streaming river facing one another. Their arms were tightly wrapped around each other holding them close together. She briefly unwound her arm from their embrace to tuck a stray strand of dark hair behind his ear.
For a second, I zoomed in on their faces, noticing, for the first time, the color of his eyes. They are gray. No. Not gray – silver like Shawn's eyes had been. Slowly I pulled the camera away looking at him on the digital screen. I have not seen silver eyes since Shawn. I rubbed the bracelet on my arm that Shawn had made for me, from five white strands of material, centuries ago. It is my last reminder of my Shawn.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yea, I was looking for the clicker button,” I lied. My index finger rested on the button the entire time. Raising the camera back up in front of me, I snapped their photo.
“Thank you.” She took her camera from me looking at their picture displayed on the digital screen. “I'm Shelby, and this is Trent.”
“No problem,” I responded still shocked by the color of Trent's silver eyes. “I'm Chloe,” I extended my hand for her to shake. Chloe is one of many aliases I have adapted to using over the years.
She shook my hand politely, “Nice to meet you and thanks again,” she replied with a giggle before walking away, hand-in-hand with Trent. They are young and in love, something I am jealous of, with a lot to look forward too. I did not follow after the two of them like my connection requires of me. Instead, I sat on my bench still watching the river. The sun had since set, and I will have to leave soon, but for the moment... I am content, for the first time in a long time, just sitting here.
Of course, this is when it always happens. The upbeat, energetic ringing in my ears distracted me from my peace. Another immortal. I did not move or act like anything changed after Shelby and Trent left. Sitting there, still and calm, reading my magazine, I hoped the feeling would pass as he followed the young couple away.
It has not been long enough, Russia at the turn of the twentieth century, since I last saw an immortal.
Maybe he will not recognize me.
I watched for his descent. From the corner of my eyes, I caught his tall, sleek frame.
This immortal is different from the immortals I have met. His immortal static praises his arrogance. The ringing, his static, is how I decipher one immortal from another when I cannot see them. Every immortal I have come across carries a different tune. It is a display of their personality. A glimpse of who they are and it took me centuries to decipher.
He drew closer, secretly I panicked. Letting the immortals get this close makes it harder to escape once they realize who I am.
“Is this seat taken?” A man's deep voice politely asked.
“No,” my breath caught in my throat. An aggravating habit I experience with every overwhelming change of emotions I feel. “I was just leaving,” my heart stopped in my chest. I prayed he would not notice and preoccupied myself, place-marking my magazine by folding the outer corner down and gathering my purse.
“I think it is in your best interest to stay, Chloe.” His words were not forceful or abrupt, just confident, arrogant, “Or do you prefer... Rhionan?”
Turning to look at him, he caught me off guard. “I do not know what you are talking about or how you know my name–” My voice came out tight and small before he cut me off. He is a tall, broad man wearing a baseball cap over his long, neatly kept dark-blonde hair. His blue eyes were as excited as any child on Christmas morning. He caught me, and he knew it.
“Relax, Rhionan. I have already called Arbus. He will be along soon.” As he stared at me, his calm, casualness seemed anything except relaxed.
Does he realize he could be ruining my life?
My face fell in disbelief, “You have no idea what you are doing.”
“I thought, after all this time, maybe you changed your hair color. Perhaps, that is why we could not find you,” he gloated, proud to be the immortal returning me to Atleah. “That color stands out worse than a ruby in a diamond mind.” He smiled, slowly taking me in, “I have to say, you are one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen,” he winked at me. “I have been around for a very long time, so that says a lot.”
“Who are you?” It does not make any difference, but he is not one of the immortals I met during my brief stay at Atleah.
“Achilles, baby.” He plopped on the bench seat next to me. I wanted to hit him and run away, as if he could read my mind, “My reputation does not precede me. I am and will always be as good and fast as you have heard.” With a twisted smirk and a gleam in his blue eyes, he turned to me, “Want to test it?” he winked and wiggled his eyebrows.
Rolling my eyes, I turned away trying to figure out how to get out of this mess. With a sly glance at him, he is powerfully built. I cannot escape him. Over the years, I learned to pick my battles wisely. Who I can, and cannot defeat. At the same time, I have become a master of several self-defenses. Based on Achilles demeanor he is too. And he is prepared for me.
We sat quietly for a long time before I spoke, imagining all the things I could try to escape. From knocking him out to kicking him in the head and there is always a good old-fashioned chase. No matter what, I cannot escape him. At least not until Arbus arrives.
“How long until Arbus gets here?” I tried being nonchalant. Achilles knew better.
“I'm not sure,” he replied sleepily. Then, as though he were proving a point, he let out the longest, loudest yawn I ever heard.
“Why do I have to go back?” I studied him wondering how truthful he would be.
“Why run?” Is he serious? “Why not face them, get it over with and go on with your life?” he smirked with his eyes closed. His head rested in his propped-back hands, behind him on the park bench. Now is my chance to run! Euphoria filled me – until his hand clamped down on my mid-thigh. The movement happened faster than I could follow.
Had I been smart, I would have sat there and let him fall asleep. “After five-hundred years and here you are, ready to take me back...” I sighed, watching his sleepy expression curl into a smile of satisfaction. Disgusted with him, he has a point. It is time to face my fears and stop running.
We sat on the park bench in silence. I stared at the river while Achilles glanced around. He is beginning to feel the separation of the connection. It only takes twenty, maybe thirty minutes for a connection's affect to effect an immortal. The itch of a broken connection attacked Achilles. He scratched his arms and legs like a dog with fleas.
Unless my new immortal friend catches back up to our connection, he will soon be doubled over in pain. I know the symptoms well and have experienced them many times to avoid ending up where I am now. It will take longer for the lost connection to take effect on me since my body has become accustomed to it throughout the years. Inevitably the same thing will happen to me in the end. Maybe I will be far enough away when it does that Achilles will not be able to find me again.
He set on the edge of the bench with his arms wrapped around his stomach rocking back and forth. He cannot move unless it is in the direction of our connection. Once Achilles' connection breaks, he will fall helpless to the side effects of his immortality. He will appear dead to everyone who comes along. Then, I can escape. Standing up, it is my turn to smirk because he cannot stop me. Looking down with aggravation and disgust, knowing he will soon appear dead, I will be free.
I cannot do that to him in a public park.
I grabbed his arm pulling him to his feet and helped him follow Trent and Shelby, “Come on,” the force behind my voice startled him. “Let's go to my car.”
“No,” he meant to be firm. His voice and body language had weakened significantly, proving to be anything but firm. “We have to wait for Arbus.” As the excitement in his blue eyes dulled, I watched him with a smirk of my own. That confident aura that engulfed him before disappeared leaving him vulnerable.
“You'll be dead by then, and I will have escaped again,” Achilles obeyed me and got in the car. We drove to Shelby's house following the pull of the connection. Trent dropped her off early. Something is wrong. Usually, if Trent brings her home early, he stays with her. He never leaves fast, not even when they fight. After being connected to them for a year, I know their routine well.
Achilles body slowly restored while we waited. “Why didn't that bother you?” He does not understand I have been through it many times. It takes longer to affect me than someone else. “I have heard of a connection breaking, but I have never seen or experienced it. I do not want to again,” his voice hinted some fear of the unknown.
“Stop belly aching! The connection did not break. You did not die. Therefore, you did not experience anything.” The situation I placed myself in left me short tempered. “I have experienced broken connections many times. Each time gets easier even though I still die. Or appear dead.” It is kind of nice having someone to talk to, someone who understands. “I don't want to wake up in a morgue again.”
He smiled at my joke and his features became softer as we sat patiently waiting for whatever was supposed to happen, to happen. His eyes sparked back up as he appeared to be enjoying himself. “What is their deal?” he motioned to Shelby's parents three-story Victorian. A beige house with white trim work and a wraparound porch. The landscaping on their half-acre lot, on the edge of town, had been professionally done. I watched the landscapers this morning.
“I'm not sure yet. My connection to them has been for a year or so. I usually do not stick around this long. That way I do not get caught.” The house did not draw my attention the way it did his. I planned my escape, but nothing came to me. The voice in the back of my head agreed with Achilles. I should quit running from Meleseus, from my future.
“Connected to them. Is that what you said?” he asked studying the house.
“Yeah. 'Tis the first time I have connected to more than one person at a time. Normally it is just one person or a place.” It confused me at first. In the past, I never paid attention to being connected to two people at once. To me, they are just another connection.
“He's immortal,” Achilles' voice became softer. He had more interest in Trent and Shelby now. He sat up straighter in his seat looking over the house then pulled a cell phone from his pocket and began sliding his finger across the screen.
“How do you know it's him?”
“It's always him,” he replied after looking over the message he typed and slid his phone back into his pocket.
What he said to me did not register immediately, I replied softly, “Not always.”
“Yeah, but you are the exception. Alex and Armand were confused and thought it was your sister. After all the connection was with you and her.” He leaned his seat all the way back and glanced at me briefly. Other than that, his impulsive blue eyes never left the house. “Nothing against you, but after that British guy attacked your sister first... They thought she would be the next immortal. Then Thor got involved and became angry with the guards. He knew he could not change anything which is why he let them overpower him. Armand wanted it to be you. That still hasn't changed,” the last part he mumbled. “Thor genuinely took to your sister, got him in the end, though.”
“What do you mean?” I should have hung around Atleah long enough to learn something more about immortals. “Wait... That guard attacked Shawn and me, in the woods, first. It wasn't an attack, per say, it was confrontational. Catriona wasn't until later.”
“You were attacked first?” I nodded as a pensive expression creased his forehead turning his eyebrows into a uni-brow. “Either those boys weren't doing their homework or your attack happened before they showed up.” Trying to stretch out he almost hit me in the head, “Doesn't matter anymore. Think you could have gotten a smaller car?” His arrogance returned.
“I prefer to walk. This thing gets me from point A to point B faster. Besides, you weren't complaining in the park.” His attitude angers me. He thinks he can take or do whatever he wants. The smug look that curled his top lip personified an absurdly egotistical demeanor. He believes he is superior to me, even though both of us were created equally as eternal beings in a world that makes absolutely no sense at its best times.
After a long time of silence, he asked in a quiet voice, “Why did you help me? You lost your chance to escape. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful you did what you did, but I still have to take you back to Meleseus.” His voice carried an unmistakable longing.
“I was grateful Armand did not leave me to be found by my Clansmen. That is why I did it.” Laughing to myself, “I've seen the look on the mortician's face when I set up in the morgue too.”
Achilles and I laughed together as he continued to watch Shelby's house. His face became dark and distant. He focused on a particular spot. His eyes squinted through the night and his mouth set in a hard line of concentration. “Is that normal behavior?” He pointed to the roof landing of the second floor on the right side of the house.
Squinting my eyes, I searched the darkness to see what Achilles saw. Shelby tip-toed across the roof of the second floor and slid down one of the posts that held the wrap around porch up. She threw a full duffel bag to the ground then jumped. I wanted to scream. My breath caught in my throat. She hit the ground with the grace of a cat, picked the bag up and took off at a steady sprint.
“No,” I choked. “She never leaves after Trent drops her off. He never drops her off this early either.” Oh no! Tonight is the night!
eleven
By morning, Armand had left. I assume he put me in bed because I did not get there myself.
Camille cheerfully stood over me grinning from ear to ear. “You mustn't miss breakfast, Miss – Um... Rhionan.”
“I do not want to eat now,” I replied. Rolling over to my stomach with my head under the pillow to block the morning sun from the balcony curtains Camille opened.
“You have to.” She pulled the pillow off my head. “All the men are waiting for you.” Her straight, black hair hung around the smile plastered on her round face. Even her brown eyes were happy this morning.
“Let them know I will not be joining them this morning.” My accent became stronger with my mood. I wanted to scream at her to let me be, although I could not bring myself to do it. She looks happy this morning.
“I think it'd be in your best interest to attend breakfast – Miss,” she stressed the last word she spoke. I have been here twenty hours. How could she possibly know that gets under my skin? I do not like being sassed, bossed around or called 'Miss', yet she has managed all three in five minutes.
“Camille, I have told you my name is Rhionan. Learn it. Use it,” my anger rose, with my voice, causing me to stress my words more to speak clearer. “I will not be joining the men for breakfast this morning. I have other plans.” She looked at me with wide, frightened eyes. Mumbling, she turned on her heel and stormed off. I took a deep breath, “Camille.” She returned to the entrance of my room. “What'd you say?”
Her face flushed pink, “Nothing – Rhionan. I will let the men know you will not be joining them.” With a toss of her dark hair and half a curtsy, she was gone, slamming the door behind her.
Nobody is forcing me to keep a schedule; I fell backward on the bed. If I am destined to rule the World, then their schedules will have to adjust to fit me. Laughing to myself at the thought, too bad I am not the type of person to boss everybody else around.
Soon after Camille's dramatic departure, the door to my room flew open as Meleseus made an equally dramatic entrance. I felt his presence long before he entered my room. I groaned with repulsion to his tall figure overshadowing my doorway.
“You will be at breakfast in ten minutes. And, 'no' is not an acceptable response,” he gruffly demanded.
I stood my ground. “I will not be eating breakfast. I am not hungry. Nor do I eat with men who keep secrets from me. It is the same as lying. I will have no part of it. Besides, it is a sign you want something from me. Until I know what you are after, I will not have anything to do with you.” Standing tall, pride filled me, I did not back down from him.
I hope I continue to stand up to him.
The look on his face was priceless; Meleseus is normally in charge, runs the castle with an iron fist. He is head honcho here and telling the others what to do is what he does best. Someone telling him otherwise is abnormal in Atleah. People bow down to kiss his butt regularly, but I am not one of them. “Rhionan, I have not lied to you. If this is the way you feel, it is probably for the best you do not come to breakfast. Lunch will be served at one o'clock.”
Crossing the room to the vanity table, that resided outside the bathroom door, I picked up a hair brush, “I will not be back by then.” Running the brush through my tangled mess of hair, I discreetly watched him in the vanity mirror.
“Where do you intend to go?” The pitch of his voice rose slightly. In the mirror, Meleseus' cheeks burned red, and his beautiful white-blue eyes grew cloudy. In the doorway behind him, Camille lingered. I did not see her when he rudely burst into my room, how long has she been there? Maybe seeing me stand up to him will do her some good.
“'Tis none of your concern. I am not a prisoner, Meleseus. I'll come and go as I please or I'll disappear and you'll never see me again. Your precious prophecy will never come true.” Turning to face him, I stifled a giggle, his eyes burst from his head. His face, an angry beet red, might explode.
“Woman!” he yelled. His puffy, red face shook violently with rage. I did not flinch. “You. Are. Impossible! Camille!” He screeched not realizing she stood inches from his back. “Rhionan wishes to leave the castle today. You will be her escort.”
“Yes, sir.” she quietly responded behind him.
“No,” I protested. “I do not trust her either. You have my word. I will return, but I will not leave with her.”
“Do not be difficult!” He yelled.
“You wish me to have an escort?” my voice calm and steady. He nodded, “Send Marc to me.”
“You would go with him?” his eyes narrowed.
What am I getting myself into? “Aye,” I responded.
“Then you will join us for breakfast. He does not start his day without a good meal.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “There you can present your idea to him and see if he can take the time out of his busy schedule to satisfy you.”
“Agreed,” I smiled back. “I will join you soon.”
“You. Will. Come. Now!” he began yelling again.
“I'll come when I'm ready!”
Meleseus threw his hands in the air defeated and stalked out of the room. Grabbing Camille by the back of her neck, he took her with him. In hushed whispers, Meleseus instructed Camille to follow me today reporting everything back to him directly.
How weird is this? I should not be able to hear what they are saying, but it feels like I am standing next to them. The same as last night, when I listened from the door of the dining hall, I could feel all of the immortals emotions.
What is happening to me?
Donning my jeans and a t-shirt, I ventured into the hallway, so Camille could begin her babysitting duties.
Breakfast was short. The food was already on the table when I arrived. We served our own plates. Once we had finished and were preparing to depart for the day, I placed my hand on Marc's, who sat beside me again this morning. Looking at me startled, he recovered with a smile. The same expression that crossed his face last night crossed it again this morning. It is adoring and caring, the same as Armand looks at me. I got lost in his beautiful blue gaze and had to stop for a second to rethink what I had prepared to ask him.
My stomach knotted into little butterflies that bumped around the inside of my tummy as I looked into his eyes. If he feels the same way about me as Armand does, this will be a bad idea because he will get the wrong idea. Losing myself in the depths of his eyes, maybe I have the wrong idea.
Considering what to do...
Considering...
Considering...
Decision made.
“Last night... you said if I needed anything to ask you.” I began in a quiet voice while batting my thick, red eyelashes that framed my round green eyes.
He glanced around for reactions from the remaining immortals in the room then replied causing me to giggle. “Um, yeah.”
“Well, how'd you like to spend the day with me?” His bright, blue eyes widened in surprise. “Show me around, maybe?”
“Of course,” he responded too quickly. “When?” That is the moment I knew he would be willing to do anything I asked of him.
“Now,” I lowered my head and smiled innocently. “Let's go to my room first, I need to grab a few things.” Standing, he moved behind me quickly pulling my chair out. I gave Meleseus a quick 'I win' smile and a wink before turning arm-in-arm with Marc and leaving the room.
My intentions do not include leaving Atleah. Only giving the appearance I am gone. I have some research to do on who I am and what I am doing here. Someone hovering over me, like Camille, might make things difficult.
I quickly locked the door behind Marc and me, knowing Camille stood on the other side. Then, I asked Marc what Meleseus' daily routine is. He assured me Meleseus would be out for a while, at least until lunch time. In my opinion, the best time to poke through Meleseus' stuff is while he is preoccupied.
I snuck us into Meleseus' elegantly designed room via the balcony. White lace curtains hung across the windows looking over the balcony. In the corner next to the window sat a white chair. An enormous bed had been positioned against the west wall with walking space down either side. The hallway exit from Meleseus room rested on the wall to the right of his bed.
The north wall held a new high-tech, top-of-the-line entertainment center. An 84” flat-screen television covered the wall. Down one side of the television were shelves, lined with movies and video games. A Blue-ray player and some sort of gaming station set on the bottom shelf. The other side of the television held a stereo system and a full collection of CDs in every genre of music. Next to his entertainment system stood bookshelves, Meleseus' private library.
The far wall to the east led to the bathroom and closet. Opening the doors, they are just like mine. The whole bedroom is a perfect match minus the entertainment system. Our rooms could be identical, if only the color schemes matched. My pale greens and his intricate whites would not have blended well.
I felt silly looking around. I have never done anything like this before. It was scarily awkward. Not knowing when Meleseus would return, would Camille walk in, would Marc turn me in.
So many possibilities presented themselves.
Time passed quickly. I started in Meleseus' closet rummaging through various items when I saw the hole in the wall. It was small, roughly the size of the end of my thumb. I bent down and looked through it. The other side revealed the hallway where Armand and I stood yesterday! Surprised by what I found, I stood up straight looking around. Could Meleseus have watched me yesterday morning?
My stomach curled as reality hit me. Is there one in my room too?
I began going through the bookshelves, checking each one, not only for the scroll but any sign of a peephole in the wall. Aware that Meleseus would not leave the scroll in view I felt better searching his entire room. The bookshelves were a bust as I suspected. Being optimistic, he has a collection of books I would love to read. Moving to the bed, I checked underneath it and between the mattresses.
“Why are we here, Rhionan?” Marc asked in a nervous voice that made him appear vulnerable and cuter than I already thought him to be. I ignored his question and continued my search. “What are we looking for?” this time he grabbed my arm spinning me to face him. Now inches apart, he demanded my attention. “You asked me here. Now let me help.”
“The scroll. I have to know what's in the scroll.”
“I can tell you,” he toyed.
“I want to see it.” I heavily expressed to him with big round eyes.
“Are you worried about getting caught?” He still held my arm. I looked up at his face seeing the sparkle dance in his blue eyes.
“No.” I lied, realizing the danger I put myself in by involving Marc. “I know when he's coming.” I tapped my temple.
“Maybe so, but you never could lie to me." I thought I glimpsed a faraway look in his eyes, but he recovered adding, “I won't tell anyone. The scroll is rolled into a white pipe. About so long,” he raised his hands, roughly chest-width apart, providing a measurement.
Smiling at him, “Thanks.”
The nightstands, on either side of the bed, came up empty other than a Bible and the entertainment remote, much like the nightstand in a hotel. Digging through the closet, again, followed by the entertainment shelves we still had not found anything.
Spending the morning in quiet started to wear on me. I thought small talk might be better. “So... Where are you from?” I asked him quietly.
“Greece.” His answer short.
“Okay... When are you from?” I tried again.
“Do you know who Caesar was?” He glanced up at me from the lower shelves of movies.
“Yea,” I smiled, happy he cooperated this time. “Did you know him?”
“My name is MarcAntony. What do you think?”
“Well, there's no reason to be rude. I was just trying to make small talk.”
“That was rude of me. I am sorry, but I do not enjoy discussing my first life.”
I smiled at him again. I understand secrecy all too well. I do not enjoy discussing my first life either. Under the circumstances of my first life, I died. Why would I want to remember? “Fair enough.” A half smile curled one side of his lip up causing a shy giggle to escape me. Which created a warmth on my cheeks, that, I am sure, resulted in a pink flush.
He is unbelievably handsome and, for some reason, he seems to like me.
Before I could repent my thoughts of Marc, and think about Armand instead, I felt him... As I fingered through the movies and games, next to the door, I paused momentarily, hoping I was hallucinating.
Meleseus is coming!
“He's coming!” I shouted a panicked whisper across the room to Marc.
“Let's go!” he quietly shouted back, turning to the balcony.
“No time!”
Trinket Holder
Book 2 in the Gurruffallo Series
available December 2016!
For more information, regular updates,
or becuase you enjoy my random writings please
follow by email
at the top, right side of the blog!
 |
| Sandra Gough, Author |
