Wicked Love - Michelle Dare Page 0,103

chair. A sudden chill skates across my arms. My hands brush down my skin to rid the layer of goosebumps, but it only intensifies the sensation along my flesh. I wrap my arms around my chest for warmth and hurry through the arched door, re-entering the busy shop.

The aura in the small shop has shifted. Everything is more vibrant, louder.

Laughter assaults my senses first, my hearing suddenly super sensitive. I cover my ears, searching the store for what’s causing the strange discomfort. Tourists zip up and down the aisles, leaving a trail of color in their paths. My eyes, unable to focus on one person, begin to blink rapidly. I don’t do drugs, but there’s no doubt there’s something in my system from that drink.

I attempt to steady my breathing, but my heart is pounding out of control. I’ve barely moved, but I feel like I just ran a marathon. Voices and laughter grow louder, becoming painful to my ears, like a million tiny needles prickling inside my eardrums. My palms squeeze harder against the side of my face, my eyes forced to squint to see past all the too-vibrant customers in search of Trudy. Even if she’s still in the shop, I can’t stay in here.

I tuck my chin to my chest and rush toward the exit. I don’t stop when my shoulder knocks a row of items off a shelf and burst through the door, in desperate need of fresh air. My foot hits the edge of the doorway, and I’m startled to realize it’s dark outside. Panic shoots through me at the missing time. I gasp for air, hurrying out. I forget about the two thin steps and plunge forward, trying to grab at anything to catch my fall. A shrilling scream tears up my throat as I prepare for the destruction of my face hitting the dirty pavement.

But it never happens.

Two strong hands catch my fall, wrapping around my waist. An enchanting cologne greets my nostrils as I’m steadied, my feet safely landing on the ground. My heart starts to patter against my chest, but for a whole other reason. I’m frozen in the arms of a man, an intoxicating mixture of ambrosia and spice stealing my attention. His palms grip at my waist, eliminating the chills, replacing them with a building heat. My savior pulls me to his chest, and instead of pulling away, I wrap my arms around his neck, allowing this stranger to hold me tighter. My entire body sparks to life. Time slows, while the world around me whips past, flashing rays of color in its path. Seconds feel like years before I fight through the fog of my mind to gather my bearings and realize the awkwardness of the situation. I attempt to pull away from him, but he doesn’t allow it. It’s not until I raise my eyes to his that I’m thankful he’s holding me so tight. The second our eyes collide, my legs give out.

“Are you okay, mon cherie?”

His smooth voice, laced with a French accent, reverberates inside my ears, calming the madness from earlier inside the shop. My eyes fall to his lips, waiting for him to speak again, desperate to feed off the rich, silky tones of his infectious drawl. I force a breath of air to fill my lungs. My head is beginning to clear. Whatever I ingested is hopefully starting to wane.

“Um…yes. Sorry. I—I forgot about the steps.” My hands drop from around his neck, and I attempt to take a step back, but he makes it difficult when he hesitates to release me. Weirder part is, I hesitate to move.

“Thank you for saving me,” I finish, needing the drugs inside me to pass, ashamed at my bizarre reaction to him. He doesn’t respond, and I’m okay with it. I wouldn’t hear him anyway. My odd behavior has me lost in his deep-set eyes. Relentlessly cold, yet riveting. Like polished armor, the silver in his irises, a shade I’ve never seen before. The way the dazzling colors of the festival lights flicker against the metal of his irises, he looks not only mysterious, but eerily attractive.

I realize we’re standing in the middle of the busy sidewalk, still staring at one another. As much as I’d like to spend the rest of my trip ogling this hot French guy, I really need to sober up and find Trudy. “Well, I need to go…find my friend. She—”

“Is your friend looking for you?”

“Huh? Well, I think so.