There is no Love Like Tortured Love

The grip of his emotions played upon his mind. He was as scattered as the stars of the Milky Way, as tense as a tightrope, burning with love from both ends. Nothing he had dreamed before, or imagined about a time when he would be holding Holly in his arms had prepared him for this moment.

So many things could go wrong with this scenario that he could hardly stand straight. The possibility of loss after such a brief glimpse into a future with her produced a deep growl in his throat.

And now she stood at his door, her smile a little tentative, hair spilling about her shoulders, the sun catching the edges like a lambent flame. He extended his hand to pull her in, fighting to re-arrange his face into something less intimidating. She crossed his threshold, and began to explain how she’d ended up at his door without Sahara.

‘The Dark Pool’ m. carless

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