On a Wicked Dawn
“He must have eaten, but as the storm gathered and built beyond the windows, he felt increasingly distanced, the violence outside calling to all he’d suppressed throughout the day until it—sating it—dominated his thoughts and his mind.
From the end of the table, shortened as much as possible but still able to seat ten, Amelia watched, and wondered. Over the years, she’d seen Luc in all his many moods—this one was new. Different.
Charged.
She could feel his intensity, crackling between them, feeding her own welling anticipation. An anticipation further buoyed by relief. His unexpected reserve, his eschewing of all loverlike gestures, had left her uncertain. Wondering if, now she was his wife, he was no longer as physically interested in her as he once had seemed. Wondering if that earlier interest had in truth been as potent as she remembered it. Wondering if it hadn’t in some measure been feigned.
Glancing up the table, she watched him sip from a crystal goblet, his gaze fixed on the w...indows, on the storm brewing outside.MoreLess
From the end of the table, shortened as much as possible but still able to seat ten, Amelia watched, and wondered. Over the years, she’d seen Luc in all his many moods—this one was new. Different.
Charged.
She could feel his intensity, crackling between them, feeding her own welling anticipation. An anticipation further buoyed by relief. His unexpected reserve, his eschewing of all loverlike gestures, had left her uncertain. Wondering if, now she was his wife, he was no longer as physically interested in her as he once had seemed. Wondering if that earlier interest had in truth been as potent as she remembered it. Wondering if it hadn’t in some measure been feigned.
Glancing up the table, she watched him sip from a crystal goblet, his gaze fixed on the w...indows, on the storm brewing outside.MoreLess
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