Description
Whenever I thought about him, every molecule of my being would ache with helpless longing, as sharp as broken glass on defenseless flesh. I wanted to wipe him from my memory--no I wanted to savor them--grasp them to me tightly, hiding behind closed doors while swallowing my tears along with endless bottles of wine. Calen Bryn. His eyes are the deep greenish blue hue of glittering aquamarines under the Aegean Sea, knowing and beautiful. Sensually tilted down just a bit at the corners, they could beg, beguile or gleam with laughter in a way that few would be able to resist. I often thought that those eyes were more expressive in simply one glance than most people could be if they were to write an entire novel. Perhaps it wasn't so much the beauty but the complicated mix of sadness in those eyes that I was drawn to. As pragmatic and sunny as I have been my entire life, I have come to understand that there is a tandem pull of dark night within me, a fateful fascination with things that could only hurt me in the end. *********************************************************************************************** When you long for something that you can't have, it can lead you down dangerous paths. When Emma meets Calen Bryn, she instinctively knows that he's bad news. She is married--the only sane thing to do was run the other way. He was far too beautiful of a creature for her peace of mind. But you can't run from yourself. And Calen Bryn had no intention of letting her go so easily.
Predule: Longing
