of a scene out of a dream. It may have said something about the Mediterranean. She wasn’t sure.
What she did recall was a white open-air building with columns that led down stone steps to the dark azure waters of a sea inlet. A small boat with a dragon head mast and a blue and white striped sail was tied to a Venetian-style post. Large black pots sat on either side of the steps trailing bougainvillea with huge red blooms. The temple-style building faced a black mountain that rose directly out of the water and seemed almost close enough to reach out and touch.
Shivaun had never been to a place with weather like a Greek island, but somehow she knew the air felt perfect. Not too cold. Not too hot. Not too windy. Not too calm. Just right.
Lyric had thoroughly enjoyed soaking up the vibe she emitted while engaged in her fantasy and the look on her face as she pictured it.
“Take me there,” he said softly.
She shook her head a little. “What?”
“Take me there.”
She wouldn’t insult him by pretending not to know what he meant. “I do no’ know how. ‘Tis someplace I once saw in a magazine.”
“It’s not just in a magazine anymore. Now it’s a real place. It took form in your mind and you gave it life.”
With shallow laughter, she said, “’Tis a romantic notion. That such a thing might be possible. But I can no’ make pictures real.”
Lyric put his hands on either side of her face. “Put your hands around my wrists.” Shivaun’s hands wouldn’t begin to encircle the demon’s wrist, but she made the effort. “Now close your eyes. See this wonderful place and imagine that we are there together.”
“I feel silly,” she protested.
He chuckled. “Trust me.”
“Never,” she whispered.
Then she closed her eyes. As her image jumped to life the demon kissed her lips, first gently, then more insistent until their tongues began to dance in the most sensual sharing of pleasure.
When she opened her eyes, she looked around and gasped.
There they stood. On the terrace of the Greco-Roman building that looked like it had been designed for the gods. White filmy billows of fabric hung from the columns. They lifted in slight surges of breeze and came to rest when the air quieted. It was everything she thought it would be if it existed in fact. And possibly more.
Four sets of perfectly tuned windchimes, one at the roofline of each of the four corners of the pavilion. When disturbed by the movement of the breeze, the tones combined to reward listeners with a heavenly sound.
A fuchsia divan sat on the white and gray travertine, looking out over the inlet to the black mountain.
Lyric looked around. The setting revealed more than that she was a romantic. It revealed that she was a connoisseur of beautiful things with an extraordinary imagination. When he spoke, he sounded impressed.
“Beautiful. You’ve been hiding the soul of romance.”
Shivaun laughed nervously. She wondered what people in Black On Tarry would say if they heard that. By the time the O’Malley twins were steady enough on their feet to run about, their mother had given up trying to put them in skirts. Shivaun’d spent her entire life in leather to protect delicate Irish skin from the self-imposed abuse of the elements and reckless behavior.
No one who’d watched her grow up would’ve ever thought to call her romantic. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. The demon brought out things in her she hadn’t known were there.
She motioned toward the divan. “Let’s sit.”
For a time she looked out at the shadows of cloud formations moving across the water. Occasionally a streak of sun peeked through and created a dazzling display of diamond-like sparkles. When she was ready to talk, she angled her body toward him.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Is that a threat?”
Ignoring the joke, she said, “I enjoy our time together.”
“As do I.”
“The talk we had about love… I’ve given it much thought and understand that you are what you are and can only change so much.” Lyric went stock still, waiting. “And since I’m set on no’ settlin’ for less than love, I will no’ stay with you longer, for fear that I may fall for you, hopelessly so, and doom myself.”
“Shivaun…” He couldn’t stop himself from cutting in. Lyric had a very bad feeling about the direction the surprise was going.
“No.” She shook her head. “Let me finish. I’ve made up my mind. I’m puttin’ an end to this while I can.