The Present Day
By: Selena Illyria
© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved
I/R, Paranormal

Sebastian pulled back, looking down at Lea, his fingers trailed down the sides of her neck, brushing her pulse on their way down, over her satin covered shoulders and down her arms to take her hands into his. He resisted the urge to lower his head back down and take her lips again, taste the sweetness of her kiss. He drew a deep breath and looked into her eyes, filled with confusion and apprehension. He silently dammed, Jeffery Humphreys, because of him, she remembered nothing. He opened his mouth, ready to spill is deepest secrets, tell her their history, finally lay bare his soul to her and yet nothing came out. How could he explain something that had become so complicated? Even to him and he was there in the beginning. Sighing, he dropped her hands and stepped back, that small act, caused him a slight pang of pain.

"Will you have dinner with me?" He asked, silently begging her to take him up on the offer. If he was truthful it wasn't just about having dinner with her wasn't just about spending more time with her, he was hungry too, he hadn't eaten all day, too busy practicing his solo, focusing on getting it perfect. He felt he had been off the night before and was determined to correct that error, especially since he had received word that she would be in the audience tonight. That night, that performance was only for her, as it had always been. He studied her face, watching her emotions dance in her eyes as she tried to understand his earlier words.

He knew he had screwed up, he should let her remember that day, instead he should have said nothing at all. Finally she looked up at him, her brown eyes melting him, he became warm, stomach tightening and breathing became hard. He watched her lick her lips and almost reached out to pull her back into his arms for another taste. His hands twitched, longing to feel her skin against his palms. He gave himself a mental shake, asking himself how would he get through dinner if he couldn't control himself? He couldn't answer himself.

"Okay, I'll have dinner with you, but you have to explain that last remark." She said.

In a sign of nervousness, he reached up and tucked some hair behind his ear, his fingers brushing the smooth, cold silver obelisk, earring, dangling in the lobe.

"Over dinner."

She narrowed her eyes at him, arms folding over her chest, emphasizing her small breasts. The scoop neck of her dress showed just a hint of tantalizing cleavage, driving him further to distraction. The tilt of her chin, showed she wanted to be stubborn, he didn't have much time to explain, tomorrow he would be leaving with the opera to go to the next town and he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.

"Please, over dinner, all will be explained," he pleaded, wincing, if his former comrades could see him now, pleading with a woman he would never have heard the end of it. Thankfully they were elsewhere, no doubt causing mischief to fill the boredom. He waited and watched as she weighed her options. Taking a deep breath she replied.

"Fine, dinner, where should I meet you?"
"I shall take you, Giannini?" Sebastian looked around he knew that stage manager wouldn't be far off. He would undoubtedly be eavesdropping on their conversation, ready to spread the backstage gossip as soon as he got a chance.

Giannini stepped out from the shadows, shoulders covered in dust, an indication that he had chosen to hide behind an old, dusty curtain hanging nearby. The stage manager bowed low, trying to show an over exaggerated semblance of respect for his star violinist.

"Yes, Mr. Bartholomew? He asked, not lifting his head.

"I wish for my car to be brought around, I will be taking my wi . . . patron to dinner at Clair de Lune. Thank you."

Gianinni, did not say a word, instead straightened and left the two of them alone.

"Thank you." He said, quietly.

She didn't say anything instead she nodded her head and turned her back on him.

"I'll meet you outside. I have a phone call to make, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Bartholomew."

She didn't wait for his response, instead started walking down the corridor, going back the way she came.

"Sebastian, my love, call me Sebastian," he said quietly. He quickly gathered his things together, shrugging on his jacket and placing his violin and bow in his case. Straightening he went to meet her outside. Once outside he looked around and spotted her, shivering from the lack of a coat, night had fallen fully, stars sparkled like diamonds thrown across a black silken blanket that was the sky. No one else stood in front of the Opera house. He walked toward her, putting down his case, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across her shoulders.

"There now, you will be much warmer in this."

He patted her shoulders and rubbed them lightly before stepping back. He didn't notice the way she had stiffened, but he did notice when she whirled around.

"What did you say?"

A crazed look in her eye, his pulse quickened, his nerves became alive, he hadn't realized he'd made a mistake, until now.

"I told you, you would be warmer in my jacket."

"You," Her hand shook as she pointed a finger at him in accusation, "You were there, after I was attacked that night. You . . . you saved my life."

Sebastian could have smacked himself in the head. He had used the exact phrasing and done the exact same thing five years ago, after some of his brethren had found her and tried to kill her. He couldn't help but wonder, now would she remember what they had done to save her life and what her father had done that could have killed her?