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It was only a moment before he could pull his mind back; yet it felt like ages. He could feel the warm palm even through the linen. Her touch caused sensations he had not felt for the living or dead in a very long time. The sensation filled him with warmth and caused him to stand tall. As he turned the first thing that grabbed him were the eyes. They were green as emerald and yet wise. This was not a woman to be battled. These were the mirrors to a soul who knew what she wanted and when. Standing transfixed like a greek statue she lazily turned him to face her. She winked and without words she tossed her golden auburn locks toward the door.
Being of old was a blessing when it came to the little signs he thought. Pressing her firmly against himself like a conquering marauder he pushed with his mind to clear a path. Like the red sea they parted. It never stopped amazing him the power of the weak as he led her along. Giving the sign to the bouncer for him to bring the Bentley around he continued up the worn stone stairs. Each step brought him closer to understanding. He wanted to turn here on the steps and drink. But that wasn't what he really desired. Something in those green eyes had finally brought him from a thousand year slumber. Ever so gently he began to wish.
He could smell the damp air of the devil's hour long before they left the cellar. Cool and yet something? Yes lilac. Memories of childhoods desire flooded him again. Control. Take control. As they passed the stone gate and exited into the grotto he turned to her under the stars. (cont.)
