The Pull

Chapter Three (Rowena)

Rowena

I was standing in my garden late at night. The moon's silvery glow was reflected by the gathering storm clouds' bruising colours and was the only source of light. I don't remember why I was there, only that I had the sense of waiting for something. Or someone. I had an inexplicable desire for something. What that was, I didn't know.

I heard a faint rustle in the bushes, and a man emerged from the trees. The man walked with a floating grace that was paradoxically both hurried and relaxed. At first, I was terrified by his size and predatory stance, but then I saw his eyes. Although his eyes were black, ringed in yellow and red, they are kind and drew me in.

I felt pulled towards him. I wanted to run to him, throw my arms around him, surrender my entire being to him. I was anchored in my place, held by terror, despite my overwhelming urges to be near him.

The stranger knelt before me and bowed his head. I was surprised that such a man would do something like that. He peeked at me through his eyelashes while he slowly lifted his head. I noticed his strong jaw, straight nose and slight cleft in his chin. Dark curls fell over his forehead, giving him a youthful appearance despite his other features' hardness. His skin, luminous and flawless, seemed carved from a tawny marble. He caught my hands in his and said...

I didn't hit the floor. Something stopped me. Panic rose within my chest. I couldn't see anything.

I heard a rumbling chuckle, and the most beautiful commanding voice I have ever heard said, "Open your eyes, Little Fawn."

Oh, I couldn't see because my eyes are closed. Cautiously, I opened them and staring back at me was the face in my dreams. I was afraid for a moment. Then my eyes find his, and I calmed. His face didn't give anything away, but I couldn't stop staring at him. He was the most stunning creature I had ever seen. His eyes were black like in my dream. The yellow and red on the edges of his iris swirled and danced, threatening to consume the black. I couldn't look away, and I couldn't move. He had my complete attention to command at any moment.

My thoughts went wild, and I wanted to touch him. No, I wanted him to touch me. I tried to beg him to take me right now. I felt a burning desire build deep within me. The more I looked into his eyes, the more I want him to ravish me, devour me, own me and from the look in his, he wanted it too.

His jaw clenched. He tore his eyes away from mine, and the spell was broken. He lifted me from the floor, and I realise it was his hand at the back of my head that stopped me from hitting the ground. How could he have crossed the hall so quickly? Maybe I did hit my head.

The man from my dreams, Henry, the herald had called him, held me close. His hand cradled my head to his chest while the other circled my waist. I breathed him in and felt faint again. I struggled to think of to describe his scent. Maybe some mix of fresh-cut grass, freshly baked bread and the smell when you crack open an old book. He smelled incredible and familiar, like home.

"Lawrence, what have you done?" His voice rumbled in his chest, and its fury almost made my knees buckle. I wanted to hear that voice in my ear while he touched me, took pleasure from me, owned me.

"Done? My dear Henry, I've just invited David's sister to a party." They were talking about me. Briefly, the sound of Lawrence speaking woke me from my confusion, and I tried to move away from this Henry. He was strong and wouldn't let me go. His arm held me possessively, and I started to feel alarmed.

"She's not safe," Henry said. I tried to push him away, and in my head, I was screaming, let me go. I raised my fists to try to shove him away, but before I could try, he let me go. I went and stood near my brother.