When he walked into the room, it was as if a gust blew in heat from a brush fire along with him. The grand hall was immediately hot and charged with electricity. Every face turned toward the open door, and every pair of eyes glossed from his unintentional hypnosis. Mine included.
He was calm. Debonair. Jet black hair perfectly swept back with just a few rogue strands against his forehead. Unruly curls that refused to be tamed. His wicked grin extended to his crystal eyes. He crossed the threshold, and all in attendance seemed to remember how to breathe.
His eyes tiptoed across the room. While no one knew what this stranger was looking for, everyone internally pleaded to be his target. The warm candlelight in the room made his cream skin seem flush as he began his stalk throughout the room. His gaze danced from this face to that face and from this tuxedo to that dress. He knew his target and kept scanning the room.
Until his eyes locked into mine.
Although he had looked familiar, it took the electric jolt of his near white eyes to shock the memory back to life. How many lifetimes had it been? How many times had the fates conspired against us? It seemed unreal that my Osiris stood before me once again. My Mark Antony. My Romeo. My personal, beautiful, tragic love story.
Instantly the crowd dissolved to smoke and it was just the two of us.
“Shayera,” he whispered as he smiled and extended his graceful hand.
“Carter,” I replied with hardly a breath.
My heart was pounding and tears were racing down my cheeks. I knew where my home was. It was with him. Always and always.
We left the cotillion hand in hand and ran until my shoes were broken and our legs gave way. It didn’t matter where we were going, as long as he never let go of my hand. I’d followed him to Hell to save him. I wasn’t about to let him go on Earth.