I can feel the blood roaring in my ears as I stare at him blankly.
He stops about six feet away from me. “Don’t be afraid, Autumn. The generator will kick in soon.”
A little voice in my head says, run. I take shallow breaths. “I’m not afraid,” I lie. “I was just startled.”
“Good. Let us eat.” His voice is calm.
In a strange daze, I follow him. The fear makes me hypersensitive. I can smell the beeswax from the candle and I can smell him. Like rain-soaked grass, or the woods early in the morning in spring. Hidden under the sweetness, the smell of earth. I can feel his strength, his power, and his will.
The tall doors of the dining room are open, and when we get to the entrance I gasp at the extraordinary sight. The long dining table is covered in a snow-white table cloth and set for two, and the massive room is illuminated by hundreds and hundreds of candles. The grand mirrors are full of the candles reflections. There are five servants silently lighting even more. I have dreamed this before. Even the perfume of flowers that fills the air. It is like a scene from a wedding night.
“But they must have started lighting these candles ages ago,” I breathe.
“They have. Power cuts during storms are one of the drawbacks of living on a mountain top.”
Silently, the servants troop out of the room.
“Come,” he says, as William magically appears and pulls out a chair that is next to the head of the table for me.
As I slip between the table and chair, I feel him push the velvet chair forward slightly. Rocco sits at the head. I stare at him in awe. In the bright, warm light given off by the numerous candles, his skin is radiantly flawless. I want to reach out and touch his skin. My fingers tingle with the need. A strange sense of panic overwhelms me. What is happening to me? Why does he have this effect on me?
William pours wine into a glass on my right as waiters arrive with plates of food.
As one of them places the food in front of me, he murmurs, “Lobster meat on tender green leaves with orange dressing.” I look at the plate’s contents as if they are totally foreign to me. Then I lift my eyes and meet the Count’s cold gaze.
He starts to smile, but his smile dies, and his eyes narrow. “What’s the matter?”
I shake my head and turn away from him. How can I tell him that his beauty has put a spell on me? That I am unable to eat even a mouthful, because my stomach is churning with desire for him. “I have to return,” I whisper hoarsely, then I push the heavy chair back and stand restlessly.
He reacts so swiftly, I do not actually see him move, but suddenly he is by my side. “The road is dangerous. There would have been landslides during the storm. It will not be safe until the morning.”
“Are you keeping me prisoner here?” I rage, taking a step further away from his intoxicating presence, and staring at him with accusing eyes. My breath comes in great gasps. I want to run out of that luxuriously warm, wonderland candles, away from his allure and his beauty that burns into my soul, but his eyes lock with mine, and suddenly I can’t move a single muscle.
His eyes are fierce and blazing, but when he speaks his voice is hypnotically calm and shockingly persuasive. “You are not my prisoner, Autumn.”
“Then I want to leave,” I cry wildly, but the horror is completely gone. I don’t want to leave him! I never really wanted to. It was just the fear of giving in to my dark desires. Of letting them take control. I am not afraid of him. I am afraid of myself.
His lips part and a small sigh escapes him.
Automatically, my gaze slithers towards his mouth, the fragile, thin skin of his lips. I want that silky mouth on my body. I want us entangled and mindless with desire. I don’t know if he can read my thoughts, but his eyes darken.
His body is very still, only those sensuous lips move. “Are you afraid of me, Autumn?”
“A little bit,” I whisper, staring into the depths of those luminous eyes.
“Don’t be. I will never hurt you.”
At that moment, in the flickering light from all those candles, I know that is the truth. He may be dangerous to others, but I am absolutely and utterly safe with him. I can trust him with my life. “Yes, I believe you.”
He smiles. “Good. You must be hungry. Shall we eat?”
I nod. I am hungry, but not for food. I move towards the chair and sit down. I slip a cherry tomato into my mouth and let it break between my teeth. Its juice, sharp and sweet, explodes on my tongue. I have never tasted a more delicious tomato in my life. It is the strangest thing, but every time I am around this man, all my senses become more alive and alert, and everything tastes, smells, looks, and feels like nothing I have experienced before.