Capítulo 86: Woman of my Dreams (Part 2)
I take one step then another. She doesn't disappear. I reach one hand out for her. Her piercing eyes follow it, but other than that, she's as unmoving as a still life photograph.
I gingerly touch her arm. Feels solid, real. My hand slides down to take her's in mine. Her palm and elegant fingers are just as dainty, soft and alarmingly icy as last time. She should bundle up better. I don't understand how she's not shivering.
This is all very forward but she doesn't seem uncomfortable with it. Strangely, neither am I. In fact, I have a strong urge to hold her, be close… Kiss her. I'd be unnerved if my strong sentiments didn't completely overshadow my natural doubts.
I stare into her alien colored eyes, I've never come across eyes that stunning shade. No person has eyes so ludicrously blue.
I don't know what to say. I don't understand this or understand myself. But I do understand that I am unquestionably attracted to her. I think I'm terrified by her unnatural magnetism.
"Do you remember?" she breathes in wonderment.
"No…" I squint, trying to remember whatever she's referring to, "I don't think I do. But what did I forget?"
I think I'm asking myself more than her.
I'm really starting to question my sanity. She has bent my world out of shape, though it seems she is crucial to it. I've been missing something important, I can't explain it. She's a pivotal piece to my life and now I can't think of anything but having her in it.
"If I were a principled woman, I would have left you to live your life. Alas, I am selfish. Self-restraint is not a quality I'm known for."
I raise an eyebrow, confused by her unusual way of speaking, "What do you mean by that?"
She laughs under her breath and holds her hands out to brush fingers across my face. There's a pensive spark in her eyes.
She floats into my arms and I willingly embrace her all too eagerly. She doesn't seem to be repelled by it. This is right, I need to feel her.
"Where do I know you?" I whisper in her ear as her arms dance around my shoulders and head. Her touches are like feathers drifting from the heavens. I *am* losing my grip on reality.
I lean back, taking her face in both hands, peering to that spectral stare that seems to hold infinite secrets beyond the barriers of the real world, "Who are you…"
Her expression is as unreadable as it is gorgeous and her seductive voice is haunting, "Just a stranger."
I shake my head, "I don't believe you."
She weaves her slender fingers with mine, smiling and nodding, "Walk with me, mon cœur."
Was that French? She dances ahead like a goddess, her movements flow like water into the other, it's as if the frame rate has been sped up explaneically on film. Her feet don't seem to touch the ground, she's walking on air.
She guides me by the hand before I realize I'm following her without resistance. Her long hair swishes at her back, a silken blanket of midnight against the long coat.
She matches my pace and I study her, wracking my brain for why I'm so unusually drawn to a woman I don't know anything about. *Why* she's so undeniably familiar and completely new to me all at once.
"Mon cœur? Sounds like French," I remark. 'And sounds like a term of endearment if I'm not mistaken.'
"That it is."
"Are you fluent?"
She chortles, "I am not. A companion of mine was native to France. Some phrases hold no equal in other tongues."
A lover? Of course someone as stunning as her is taken. Now this is starting to feel like the real life once again. Well, she did say "was".
I keep my question casual, "Companion as in boyfriend?"
Her laugh is light as tingling windchimes, a pleasing sound, "No, but a friend, not my beloved."
I'm stupidly relieved, but what for? Am I seriously considering making a move on this random girl who's out of my league in every respect? And what about this flimsy on again, off again thing with Layla? I'm a moron for procrastinating with that 'not relationship'.
"So, is the woman that accompanied you earlier *your* paramour?" she inquires, "I can see she has a great deal of admiration for you."
I stop walking and stare at her frowning, slightly unsettled. She turns to me, her demeanor perfectly poised.
I'm willing to believe her asking about the thing I was just fretting over is coincidence but she basically fessed up to watching me.
I furrow my brows in all seriousness. I'm more forceful with the questions now, "Why have you been following me? What do you want?"
She looks mildly ashamed and I actually feel bad for being harsh. I can't have that. As harmless as she appears, I know in my guts she's not what she seems. But, why… what, then?
"I want what I cannot have. My habits are not… generally seen as admissible, I know this," she confesses.
"You've been stalking me for a long time from the sound of it."
My mind is torn on how I should logically handle this and what I find myself irrationally wanting.
"It was improper of me," she reiterates plainly.
"Is this a regular activity for you? Are you spying on multiple people or just me? You'll want to cut that out before someone decides to file a restraining order."
I've been told I can be too blunt. I've also been told I'm a man of few words. I'd say usually both are true. I don't enjoy hurting feelings or stepping on toes. My mother's saying, "If you don't have anything nice to say, *zip it*." I guess it stuck for the most part.
This is a situation where it's appropriate to be unkind. Hell, I should think about involving the cops right about now but I'm hesitant. I think it's a mistake telling her off. Am I missing the bigger picture?
She elevates her chin in such a regal way, as if I'm besmirching her. As if *I'm* in the wrong and I'm starting to think I am. How backwards is that?
"Do you wish me to leave?" She waits for my response. She's not getting angry or defensive and seems to take my concern seriously. I think she'll respect whatever answer I give her, that's not the stalker mentality.
I *should* tell her to leave. Even if she's not setting me up for something sketchy, she could have some serious mental problems. I should, I should.
Hell, this situation is absolutely sketchy. What am I doing? 'Abandon this ship, Dominic!'
She studies me without breaking eye contact, "Tell me to go and I will not bother you again."
'I can't.'
"No, I don't want you to leave."
She looks me up and down before softening again. Her subtle smile is so gentle and inviting. I find myself wanting to touch her again. What is up with me?
"And to answer your question, she is not my," I raise my eyebrow sheepishly, "paramour?"
Such odd terms, her vocabulary is weirdly… archaic.
Suddenly her hands are on mine. No wonder I never caught her spying on me, she's incredibly quick and quieter than a mountain lion sneaking up to pounce.
I'd be negligent not to admit a sinister air about her. And it's not enough to drive me off. I'm either extremely stupid or nuts. I hope I don't regret this.
I glance up from her hands, she continues to simper softly. Her touch is like a drug, it's addictive. It feels *right* but incredibly unsafe. I'm excited by her… And she absolutely terrifies me.
Her fingertips make artistic spirals on the back of my hand as she lowers her gaze, "You always had a natural draw about you. The devotion of your supplicants is not unexpected."
"My what?"
She giggles and her irises sparkle as they fall upon my face. Doting but not necessarily condescending.
"The ones who strive to win your affection," she says matter of factly, flipping her hair in a whimsical twirl and escorting me in some mystery direction.
I'm going with a stranger. I'm unarmed. This could be the stupidest thing I've ever done, but I'll be damned if I let her walk away again. I've been obsessing over her for the past three days. I'm not letting her run off again.
I slide a hand in my pocket reassuring myself that I have my phone. Three buttons if something goes wrong, good enough.
"Where are you taking us?"
She slows, matching my pace, weaving her hand through the crock of my arm and interlocking us, "For a stroll through the park."
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