Waking Dreams...

She closed her eyes. Was he friend or foe, this man who haunted her dreams. Thick black hair curled over the collar of his black coat. Piercing green eyes burned into her own.

For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

Her pulse beat fast and hard. Everything. He had always been everything in her dreams.

Haunted. He had been haunting her for years.

“Call me to you, Gabrielle. I would help you.” His voice, sweet in its seduction, brushed over her like the finest satin against bare flesh.

She brought one shaking hand to her throat. He was too much. There was power in his eyes. The kind of power that swamped her senses, and made her struggle for freedom from that gaze. He scared her, excited her. She felt drawn to him, drawn into the web of darkness he controlled.

“No." She shook her head. "No, I”ll not call you.” She’d become so cold.

He tilted his head in question at her. A look of sadness came into his eyes. He moved quickly to stand before her. She came only to just above his shoulder. With one finger he raised her face to his.

“I am not here to harm you. I am here to protect you. You know this. You can feel it—he put his hand over her heart—“here.”

She stepped back. Away from his touch, away from the madness of what he wanted of her. “Why? Why do you want to help me?”

He moved forward tracing the line of her jaw with the back of his fingers. “There is no one else to help you. Call to me Gabrielle. Call me to you.”

“I don’t know your name.”

His lips turned up into a slow sensual smile. “Yes, you do. Do not be afraid. Call to me...before it is too late.” He stepped back, letting his hand fall away from her face.

She could do nothing but stare at him, at his dark beauty.

He turned and began to walk away, then stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. "You have but to call my name, and I will come."