Did you catch Monday's blog featuring Interlude by Luc? This is a novella-length story that explores the idea of fate and true love... and who doesn't love love? Or doesn't want to love love. Since our commenter from Monday's blog fell in love with Ch. 6, I thought I'd share a scene from that chapter. Enjoy!

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His hands were on my shoulders, his fingers gently kneading then caressing my skin. I caressed the back of his neck with my other hand and sighed against his lips. He pulled back for a moment and looked down at me, a slow smile curling his lips and lighting his eyes. They were green. Not the green of an emerald. Not a cliched green. They were a dark green, almost going to blue, but not quite. And as I looked up into them I felt myself falling into them, felt the world around me falling away.

He raised one of his dark brows quizzically and turned his head slightly, just enough so I would feel the tug where my fingers still tangled in his hair. I let go with a start, my senses returning to me. I hadn’t realized I had been holding his hair in such a death-like grip! His smile turned to a grin and he leaned down and kissed my nose teasingly. “If you keep doing that I am going to cut it all off,” he said softly.

I matched his grin. “Then how will I make sure you don’t get away?” He disdained any pretense at fashion and wore his hair long, unpowdered. A single ribbon was all that held his curls in check. That ribbon had long since been cast to the floor. I loved to play with his hair, to run my fingers through the curls, to wind them around my fingers. And in the heat of passion I knew I often gripped too hard, pulled on those soft curls. But he never complained, not once. He would just look at me with those green eyes of his and raise that one brow.

Those eyes… they owned me, owned my soul—as did he.

His smile faded and his face grew serious. He ran two fingers along the line of my cheek. He shook his head slightly and more curls fell over his eyes. “I could never get away—even if I wanted to. You are part of me, Desiree. As long as there is breath in me I could no more leave you than my soul could leave my body. Even in death my soul will cling to you until your soul is released from your body. Our souls are eternally linked, my love. Not even death can separate us.”

I felt tears slipping from the corner of my eyes. There was no way I would ever be able to comprehend most of what he said. He was a poet, a philosopher and I… I was merely his mistress. But I could feel the love behind his words, could feel the passion in him.

He kissed the tears from my eyes, his soft lips barely touching my skin. “Why the tears, my angel?” His voice was as soft as his lips.

I put my hands on his cheeks, feeling the slight roughness of his unshaven skin. I smiled, knowing that the reason he was unshaven was because he had spent last night and most of this morning in my bed. “Because I love you, Armand” I whispered, more tears slipping from my eyes.

He tilted his head slightly, and that same dark brow questioned. “And loving me makes you cry?”

My hands still held his cheeks, and my thumbs brushed over his lips—lips that seemed almost too soft to be real. I nodded. The love I felt for him welled up inside me, overflowing, taking speech from me.

He looked at me for a moment, looked at me with his green eyes. They were not the green of an emerald—no, they were not a clichéd green. They were a dark green, almost going to blue, but not quite. They searched my eyes, searched inside my soul. He nodded slowly, as if he had found what he had sought, had seen all that my soul contained—and now had perfect comprehension of me. “I understand, my sweet one. Only when one loves absolutely can one feel absolute fear. I, too, feel that fear, my angel. I fear that my happiness, my absolute joy must fly in the face of god.”

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