Dangerous Illusions

Chapter 15

The crashing of a dish to the floor set off a series of events throughout the universe that was preordained long before words were even recorded.

***

"Damn it." Leila swore softly. So lost in her thoughts while drying the dishes that she hadn't even felt the dish slip out of her hand.

She tucked a lock of loose raven black hair behind her ear and knelt down on the linoleum floor. She bumped into a dining room chair as she did so.

Her apartment was small to say the least. As a one bedroom, living room combined with dining room and kitchen and a tiny bathroom, it was barely comfortable for a single person to live in. On the bright side, it was in a good neighborhood and was walking distance to all the shops.

The shards of porcelain were soon dumped into the trash, and after sweeping up she straightened herself and sighed. What a way to spend Friday evening, she thought. Friends were busy and she didn't even want to think about her current relationship status. It hadn't changed since she started college.

She consoled herself with reasons why it was good she was single at the moment. During college she had been too focused on classes and grades to deal with the drama of dating. Then portfolio and graduation had gotten in the way.

Finding a job took a lot of time...and now she was busy saving up, working all the hours she could grab just so she could eat and live in this tiny little hole in the wall.

Leila groaned to herself. She would soon run out of reasons to not date, she thought. She was twenty-three and a healthy, reasonably attractive young woman. Why should she be afraid to date?

Was it because she feared rejection? Of putting herself out there to complete strangers? Of worrying whether the man would expect s*x immediately after they were established as a couple?

It was the latter reason. Leila had an old soul. She'd always grown up thinking she'd save herself for someone she was in love with, or better yet for her husband.

Such ideas didn't quite work for the modern world, and this only made Leila ponder her current situation more. Should she modernize? Just live life and enjoy the s****l freedom as everyone else?

Her cell phone rang and her friend Melissa was on the other line.

"You called just in time, Melissa." Leila said, leaning against the counter of her kitchen.

"Then you're up to going out tonight? Turns out I won't have to work the night shift. We could just go to Sully's for a bit."

"Sully's sounds great. How about nine?"

"See you there."

***

Leila dressed stylishly. To compliment her rather petite, but slim stature, she wore a flowing skirt and fitted, crisp shirt that tied at the waist, emphasizing her small waist. With heels on and a clutch in her hand, she headed out.

Sully's was their occasional haunt, a higher-classes bar that featured a dance floor where music people could slow dance to was played. She found herself sitting at a booth in the corner, the lights dimmed, Nat King Cole playing in the background. She liked this place. The tables weren't sticky and the atmosphere was intimate and classy.

She glanced at her watch. Still no sign of Melissa. Cole changed to a soft jazzy number and she shifted her focus to the couples on the floor. Then a waiter cut her line of vision.

"Compliments of the gentleman over there." The man said, setting down a colorful drink.

Leila's lips automatically curved into a smile. This had never happened to her before. She looked up.

Across the floor at a table covered in the same white cloth as hers sat a man dressed in an immaculate suit. His hair was as dark as hers, brushed back yet a lock of hair strayed and fell over his wide forehead. He was very good looking; his angled featured made her think of Greek statues. His sensuous mouth was curved in acknowledgment.

She lifted the glass to him in a silent toast and touched only the tip of her tongue to the drink. His intense gaze remained on hers a bit longer and she felt something stir inside her belly, recognized it as yearning.

"Sorry I'm late." Melissa breathed, sitting down in the chair in front of her. Leila turned to her friend.

"That's okay. I like just sitting here watching everything."

"Well, you started without me." Her friend said with a smile, indicating the drink.

"I didn't order it."

"Then you're really getting started without me." Melissa laughed. "Who sent it to you?"

Leila turned her attention to the dancers.

"That man over there in the black suit and black hair."

"Ooh!" Leila laughed when Melissa turned to look non-too subtly. "He's a cute one. Go ask him to dance."

Leila shook her head. "I couldn't. Besides, he's probably the type who buys drinks for women all the time. It's just his thing."

"I wouldn't mind if he buys me one." Then her friend's smile widened. "Look, he's coming this way. I'll go and get my drink. Maybe you'll get lucky tonight."

"Melissa," Leila shook her head, laughing. "I love you, but you're just a bit much sometimes."

"Back at you." She gave Leila the thumbs up expression before walking away.

The man approached her, his movements fluid and confident. He took the seat Melissa abandoned.

"You do not like the drink or do you just not approve of me?"

She gave him a curious look. His accent was soft and none that she recognized. And on closer inspection, he was even more handsome. His dark eyes flecked with silver bore into her as he waited for her answer.

"I don't know you to approve or disapprove."

"We could correct that, of course." He stood up suddenly and held his hand out. "Would you care to dance?"

This was something out of a movie, she thought. Right out of those old ones where she would be in Audrey Hepburn's position and he, in William Holden's.

Ah, but there was the difference. The dark looks of this man contrasted greatly with the golden image of William Holden.

She took his hand. The band struck up and singers were up doing a Sinatra number, which made Leila smile.

"I don't drink alcohol." She said, looking up at him. He was very tall, at least a foot taller than she and beneath her hands, she could feel the hard cords of muscle flex.

"I have never met a woman who doesn't drink." He answered skeptically.

"I was never able to tolerate alcohol. A few sips will make me turn so unattractively red. And I get very sick. But I sipped your drink because I didn't want to be rude." She added sheepishly.

His soft chuckle was deep and rich, his breath brushing against her temple. He held her very close for someone she didn't know. This was so strange, meeting like this. She had to admit she wanted to fall for his charm, even if it was just for tonight.

"What's your name, by the way?"

He looked at her. "Erabus de D'Alessandro."

The way his name rolled off his accented tongue made her shiver and he felt it. She saw the flecks of silver flash in his eyes.

"Leila Hopkins."

"Leila." His sensual lips curved into a slow smile. The white of his teeth stood out against his tanned skin.

He was probably here on business. He looked like a businessman, a very prosperous one by the looks of his suit and the manner he carried himself. He moved like a man who owned the world and everything in it, like a man who'd had nothing denied to him, a man who's passion was only just contained.

His hand slid down to the small of her back, keeping her close as the song ended, another began.

"I should go back to my friend." She said, after the third song was over. She enjoyed the rush he brought her and even now, her heart raced just for being in his arms. There was something about being near him that made every nerve in her body come alive. She was aware of his every movement, his every breath as if they were both connected somehow.

Leila pushed these thoughts aside. These things -- meeting these types of people -- always came to an end.

"I want you to come home with me." His dark promise was a whisper in her ear. She felt his warm lips brush against her and she sucked in a breath.

"I just met you." Her voice didn't come out as strongly as she wished it to, but rather it was breathless and soft.

"Look, it was really nice dancing with you, but I have to go."

If it was possible, his eyes darkened. "Leila, do not do this."

He held her firmly, keeping her on the dance floor. She didn't want to cause a scene and slowly pulled her arm from his grasp.

"It was nice meeting you, Erabus. Thanks for the drink."

With that, she turned her back to him. When she couldn't find Melissa, she dug her cell out from her clutch as she left Sully's. Her heels clicked in time to her racing heart as she hurried down the street. Melissa wasn't picking up.

Something about that man made her bolt. For a minute she regretted having done so. There it was again, that fear of being intimate with a man who might not have serious intentions. And there was his intensity, it simply radiated from him as strongly as his body heat. It was intimidating.

Suddenly someone yanked her by the waist into a dark alleyway. The scream was ready at her throat, but a solid hand clamped over her mouth. She felt the man's chest press tightly to her. Oh god, she was going to die.

"I would never hurt you, Leila." The deep voice said into her ear. It was Erabus.

"I admire your spirit, my love." He continued. "But tonight, you cannot fight me. You are meant to come home with me."

His words sent fear coursing through her. She struggled, but to no avail. He was too big, too strong. She whimpered, trying to speak, but his hand muffled her words. She was going to die, she kept thinking. This crazed man was going to kill her in an alleyway. No one was going to find her until it was too late.

A tear slide down her cheek, landing on his fingers. The feel of it caused his hand to gentle.

"Deep breath, Leila."

His words confused her. Suddenly his arms tightened around her and the alleyway fell away, melding into colors and then, nothing.

What remained of their existence in that alleyway was a puff of liquid smoke that floated densely in the air before disappearing.

***

He had known the world before civilization began. He'd seen wars ravage the lands, storms wipe out cities and death, so much death. He'd been witness to unspeakable things.

The room he occupied was the master bedchamber, a large expanse of columns and well-crafted furniture. The floors were of rich black marble veined with white and like the rest of the floors in his home, were heated from below. The ceilings were covered in frescoes of gods and allegories of war and love.

Ormolu chests and wardrobes contained items he'd collected over the millennia, clothes for every occasion. Oil paintings hung on damask covered walls and oil lamps burned softly. He lived in decadence.

Erabus watched Leila sleep peacefully in his large bed, a structure wide enough to sleep eight. The headboard was carved of marble, the same black as the floor. He moved to the edge where she lay, touched her cheek softly. The shift of realms to bring her here had made her faint and she'd yet to come out of it. There would be a lot of explanations to be voiced when she woke, he knew.

He no longer wore the suit, having discarded it long ago. He went bare-chested, with only a cloth wrapped around his waist to cover himself. These robes were the traditional attire he wore at home.

Leila stirred, coming awake slowly. She knew even before her mind was clear that her sleep must have been fitful, for her body felt heavy. Her thoughts were slightly clouded and she blinked several times, trying to adjust to the images before her.