The Moment He Became Dangerous (And I Let Him)

 

Good evening my lovely friends, can you believe it’s April? I’ve been busy researching, rewriting, and editing. I love researching especially when it involves travelling to locations that will feature in future books. More about that later.

As I said before, rewriting and editing is the polishing phase of the book, the part where the characters have spoken, told their side of the story and then you, their biographer, reads it and tightens the outcome.

But, let me tell you a little secret, the characters sometimes reveal a little of themselves, a part that they never wanted to, they kept hidden, and that my friends, is the moment it gets dangerous.

Pull up a chair, get comfy and I’ll tell you.

The Quiet Shift

Imagine a hotel room, lights are low, there’s a beautiful antique four poster bed. Soft décor, all very pleasing to the eye. The sash window is half open and somewhere outside down a cobbled street, a lone saxophone fills the air with its slow, sad sound. There’s a slight breeze that gently sways the voile panel almost like a dance, the air has shifted. Just enough to make you turn your head away from the window. Your eyes rest on the glass, it holds an emerald, green liquid, you could have sworn that there had been more in the glass, but even as you look at the glass, you doubt your own mind.

The notes from the sax fill the room now and you shiver, but it isn’t from the cold…

A Look That Knows

I walk over to the desk and carefully run my finger along the highly polished rosewood surface. The elephant light with its long trunk and feet flailing in the air, look almost whimsy. Then my eyes are cast to the laptop bag and the notebook; a black cover with the rock and roll heart and the words: ‘Everlasting love’, catch my attention. I remove it from the pocket and open it on the page which holds the description. Eyes: grey. Intense. They hold secrets of their own, yet they look, they see, but they never judge…or do they?

From that moment, it was clear. This man was someone who was dangerous, not because of his eyes, but because he used them to look into my soul.   

The Choice to Stay

There was a moment when I still held the notebook, I looked at other words written inside the cream unlined, almost silken paper. I could have put it away. After all, I travel with several notebooks, including my laptop.

I closed my eyes and inhaled, outside the sax was reaching the pinnacle of the musical piece. Inside the room, everything stayed the same, everything that is, except the beating of my heart. It pounded so hard in my chest, it felt as if I were going the break.

There was a tug of war going on inside me, the reason of a professional at breaking point, breathing in the words of a man whose file I held and knew I shouldn’t look at anymore. The desire to continue was too strong, or maybe it was because I knew he wouldn’t allow me to look away.

So, I didn’t…

The Weight of Attraction

Still holding the notebook in my left hand, I quickly removed my jacket and threw it across to the chair near the door. It landed precariously on the edge of the red leather seat, half stationary, half dangling.

I turned the page and gasped, oh, how I tried to look away but it was as if the hold on me was outside of my control.

There was the one thing I didn’t want to see, but I couldn’t look away. How could I?

He made himself known at that moment, he appeared, standing by the drink’s cabinet, he reached for the tumbler. I watched as he raised the glass to his mouth, take a sip, his head half turned, a smirk on his lips, and he gazed across at me before he put the glass down.

I closed my eyes momentarily, there was no doubt that there was an attraction to this man, I was caught in his web, like a sailor lured by the song of the siren. I couldn’t resist.

The First Echo

Suddenly the music stopped from outside on the street. My eyes opened and I looked over at the gently swaying voile panel. The air around me was heady. I looked over at the drink’s cabinet where moments before I had glimpsed him as he raised the glass. He had slipped out, the room door had just closed, the lock had latched and I almost ran to the door.

I was alone but I could smell his aftershave, I could hear the sound of his lips as they pursed together, after he had taken a sip of the drink.

He may have been gone, but he left his essence, of his having been in the room with me. His scent lingered, the feeling he invoked was still there.

A Whisper Between Shadows

I placed the notebook beside the bed, open on the page that revealed him. His dark presence still remained, as though he were in the shadows, waiting, biding his time because I knew in that moment that I heard his laugh, as I stood in front of the window, I knew that he was still in the room, hiding in the shadows, waiting.

This was when he became dangerous, and I let him…

Next week my lovelies, I will tell you about writing men who are not safe to love…

Until then, keep your eyes open, and your breathing steady.

Anna