Chapter One
Of course , I realized the folly of my ways as I crisscrossed my way over the old mounds in the cemetery, but to my credit , I felt I as if I was ok ay. T he neighbors , after all , w ould not disturb me this quiet night . S o what if it was after midnight ? S o what if a black cat hap hazardly ran in front of me ?
I felt certain I’d made a wise decision . And yet, my heart beat so hard, I felt as if it might jump out of my chest. My mouth was bone dry, and no doubt, the full moon played a part in this seduction of my nerves.
Quietly , I walked around an eighteenth- c entury tombstone , noting the name carved in its granite face: Lucius Roman Valentine . G oose bumps rose on my arms as I stood there, and I roll ed my eyes . T his is what you get for coming here after dark , dumb ass . B ut the route cut several minutes off the time it took for me to reach my apartment , and the graveyard wa s far safer than the alleyways.
Cursing my waning bravery , I pull ed my jacket tight er around me. I hurr ied along the old cobbled pavement , trying not to let my overactive imagination cause me to die of a heart attack.
A branch crack ed , and I stop ped dead in my tracks .
“It’s just a squirrel ,” I whispered into the sudden silence. “Um . . . r ight ? I mean , they do make noise w hen they walk , don't they? ”
Another crunch, this time obviously the sound of footsteps on the path behind me, had me spinning around. V iolent shivers wracked my body. Don’t scream , I told myself. Not straight away . Perhaps someone else had chosen to take a shortcut this night. I squinted into the darkness, and my breath stuck in my lungs. H im ! The man who’d haunted my dream s. He stood before me like a specter , and sweet , divine God's . . . Michael Angelo would weep were he to lay eyes on the man. H e was perfection personified , and every pore in my body ooze d pheromones in reaction to his beauty . I realize d I was gawking and quickly shut my mouth . M y breath ing ha d turned to feeble pants . The stranger chose that moment to smile, and to my utter shame , I reacted as if this were my first time faced with a handsome man . M y legs buckled, and I fell to my knees.
W ho are you?
The man tilted his head , as if he were contemplating my question . No way . Absurd to think he could read my mind. Lord , I was fast losing my grip on reality.
His smile broaden ed , and although I would not have thought it a possibility, he grew even more beautiful, like an angel come to stand before me . Thinking clearly grew difficult , so affected was I by his exquisite form. I found myself longing to kiss him, and the shocking thought quickly led to another. Why, oh, why did I choose to walk through this cemetery tonight ? I truly wished I had not.
"Why not , little one?"
My eyes grew wide. Holy —! S eriously ! Had he really just read my mind , or had I unknowingly spoken aloud?
Again , he smile d. "My name is Lucius , but you know that already."
Dear God. M y labored breathing worked up a hundred notches to reach crisis level . If I weren’t c areful, I might well hyperventilat e. This couldn’t be real . I couldn’t be kneeling here on the ground in the middle of a graveyard, gazing up at the very man I ha d dreamed of over and over again, night after night , for longer than I could remember. And every night, I’d hoped and prayed he would somehow become a reality —like that old song goes, “step out of my dream , and into my arms.” But how c ould this possibly be ? Answer— it c ouldn ’t . Women weren’t able to simply dream up a man and have him appear out of thin air. Right ?
S trong , cool hands touched my shoulder s , defying me to deny the man’s existence. He stood there—in the flesh; I d idn 't need to look to confirm he was still there. He’d given his name—the same name on the headstone I’d just passed.
“Breathe, little one,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face .
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