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Paranormal Romance Prologue. |
| Chapter 1 The phone rang; Ana reluctantly picked up the receiver and snapped, “Yes.” “Hey what’s with the attitude?” Moregan questioned. “I am just a little frazzled. I had that dream again last night.” “The same one? Did it change?” “The very same one. It was clearer this time.” “What did he whisper in your ear?” “My name, but it is still not very clear. It made the feeling stronger and it gave it more staying power.” “Hmm!” “It excited me so much and the feelings were enhanced. I still feel it… Even now.” “Sounds to me like you miss the sex with Mick. You need to get out and start dating again.” “You are not suggesting that I jump into a relationship where I feel nothing for the man.” “NO!” pause to yell at her dog. Sasha, NO! Get down. Moregan commanded. “I’m just saying get back on the horse.” “Yeah right.” Ana replied sarcastically. “I’d rather have my still beating heart torn out of my body.” “Honey, you are dead!” A slight pause to listen for an argument and when one didn’t come she continued, “Why not try it?” Moregan replied hopeful that Ana would see the logic of it, but it was met with a long silence. “Ana, you there?” “I have just the man for you. He is kind and sweet. He, too, has just lost his heart.” Ana was still silent and frowned at the receiver in her hand. That was all she needed, some needy guy clinging to her like she was the last woman on earth. They always ended in someone being hurt. She did not want any part of that. She was not so desperate that she needed to be set up on a blind date and Moregan knew how much she hated being set up. Why did she insist on doing it? “Meet him tonight at eight, at Antony‘s. His name is Nick.” “Moregan, just because you’re happy doesn’t mean I am not!” Ana’s words went unheard. The receiver buzzed in her ear. Moregan hung up the phone before Ana could protest any further. Suddenly Ana heard that voice from her dreams. What? Where is that voice coming from? She reacted strangely to this auditory hallucination. Her stomach knotted up and she felt it echo through her body, making her hypersensitive. It took hold of something buried deep down inside her, amplified it and brought it to the surface. She felt it like a lump rising in her throat except her whole body felt the tightness and pain of the obstructing force rising higher and higher. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she was chilled, and felt goose bump upon goose bump pop up on her arms. As she undressed for a shower, that peaceful fullness rose up, filling her once again. She slowly stripped off her clothes, as if she performed in a strip club; the goose bumps covered her from her head to her toes. She turned on the shower to give it a minute to warm up being she had a chill. I hope I’m not catching a cold. Looked in the mirror, saw herself staring back with hollow eyes, like a mindless zombie. Then in the steam rising from the shower, the clouded image of a man, stood in the mist. His hands softly and slowly caressing her neck and shoulders, moving down over naked breasts. She felt something secondary in nature rise up and overtake her. Her senses ran wild as she tilted her head back with the growing sense of urgency. It was not hers that much she knew and yet she felt it growing inside of her also. She picked up her hands and touched her breasts and shuddered, her breathing grew labored. She stood there in front of the mirror with her own hands exploring her body. She no longer felt the ghost hands touching her, but felt the eyes staring at her through the mirror, watching her, drinking in every sensual movement and listening to every ragged gasps of ecstasy she breathed. Then to her surprise, she mumbled, “Come to me.” And with those words the apparition in the mist was gone. That feeling growing inside of her, something urgent that demanded release, suddenly dissipated, leaving her colder than before, shaking and weak, nearly spent and confused. The memory of it lingered upon her and tickling her skin in those places he touched. What was that? What happened? She wondered as she looked at her watch… 7:45? My god, it’s late. She quickly showered and threw on some clothes and ran out the door. |
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