BESTSELLING AUTHOR

Their candle sputtered and danced on a cold breeze as the door to the tavern swung inward. Meghan turned her head to see the source of the chill creeping over her skin and locked eyes with the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

The door closed leaving the entryway in silhouette, but she could still see the outline of a chiseled face surveying the room. She couldn't see his eyes anymore, but had an odd sense he was staring at her. Her face warmed.

The momentary hush that fell over the establishment began to pick up pace again as people turned back to their companions to continue conversations. The man walked out of the shadow and into the glow given off by the fire. He wore a long, dark leather trench coat. Meghan couldn't tell if it was dark brown or black in the lighting. It looked expensive though. Below the hem of the coat she saw dark slacks and expensive-looking leather shoes. Her eyes came back up again to his face, noticing the shine of his dark hair. It looked almost black in the dim interior, but the firelight picked up on the rich caramel strands. He wore it long and tied back in a leather thong. She could tell it was wavy and felt her fingers flex with a desire to run her hands through his thick mane.

The man walked over to a corner table and sat with his back against the wall. He shrugged out of the trench coat letting it fall over the back of the seat. His eyes surveyed the room and all within it as he made himself comfortable. Meghan turned back to her friend, but could still spy him from the corner of her eye. She knew the moment his gaze lit upon her because it felt like a physical touch.

Dana continued to talk, but she, too, had noticed the man. Reaching for the silver cross that rested around her neck, she said a silent prayer. In Romania, there were stories of the "dark ones". She'd grown up on them. Never once, though, had she believed her grandmother when she spun her tales to a young girl at bedtime. They were just stories, after all. Her grandmother was a direct descendant of a gypsy clan that came from the mountains in Moldava. She told young Dana that gypsy blood flowed through her, even if it was watered down by the weaker Hungarian blood of her father -- Grandmother never approved of her daughter's choice of husband. "You will know the truth of my stories one day, little one," she had said. "When you come into the presence of one of the dark ones, you will feel it deep inside, like feeling on fire from within." Her warning seemed so dire, Dana had giggled. 'Silence!" said Grandmamma. "When you feel this fire, run! Your life will depend on it."

It had been nearly twenty years ago since Dana last heard that vehement warning spoken in the night by the light of a candle, and she had chalked it up to good theater. Gypsies were known for being dramatic. Now, as a fire built within her bosom, she knew the truth of those words. The man who walked in and sat down, the man with a face like an angel, was one of the dark ones. Everything inside her screamed "Run!" She felt both silly and terrified at the same time.

Dana noticed that Meghan had locked eyes with the man, and that the man was staring at her friend at this moment. She also knew the moment his eyes slid to her. The fire inside her turned suddenly cold. She heard a deep voice in her head sneer -- "Gypsy". Dana startled, and turned her now frightened eyes in his direction. For one second their gazes locked. In that brief moment, he smiled at her, and she knew she must do as her grandmamma had bid her to do all those years ago. Run!

"Meghan, we should go now. I have early class." Meghan jerked her head around at Dana's words. Her tone had changed from happy and jovial to clipped and stern. She wondered momentarily if she had accidentally missed something her friend had said while she was checking out the hunky man and inadvertently offended her.

"Sorry, did I miss something?" she asked.

"No. It is later than I first realized. Really, we must go now!" Dana tried to keep her words light so
as not to alarm Meghan that anything was wrong, but something in her dark eyes told a different story.
She rose up out of the booth, grabbing her coat and sliding her arms into it. Then Dana helped a slower Meghan slip into her own coat. Ilana approached after noticing the two women preparing to leave.

"Leaving so soon, cousin?" she smiled, unaware of Dana's urgency.

"Ya, Ilana. How much do I owe you for dinner?" Dana asked while reaching inside her purse for her wallet.

Meghan, too, had reached inside her own purse to retrieve money for her half of the bill.

Ilana patted both women's hands. "No, not necessary. You are family. No pay usually, but as it happens..."

"I have bought your dinner for you. I hope you don't mind." Meghan turned at the sound of this new deep and vibrant voice. The man, the one with an angel's face smiled down at her with such rugged beauty she almost forgot to breathe.

"Tha..thank you" Meghan stumbled over her thanks feeling a little embarrassed.

"My pleasure," he said, taking Meghan's hand and bestowing the lightest touch of his lips on the back of her knuckles. She felt the strangest sensation of electricity tingling where those lips had touched her skin.

"It's not every day I encounter so much loveliness. Perhaps I could persuade you ladies to stay and have one drink with me before you leave?" His eyes gleamed at Meghan who blushed behind her smile. Then, he slid his penetrating, dark gaze over at Dana, staring down into her terrified eyes. "What say you?" Gypsy.

That last word was never spoken aloud, but Dana heard it as clear as a bell tolling a death knell. At her quick side glance to her companion, Dana knew she had not moved fast enough. Meghan was staring at this dark creature as if he were the most charming, most handsome man on the planet. Dana knew she had failed her grandmother by not believing her all those winters past. This man was, indeed, one of the dark ones, and he wanted Meghan, just as sure as the sun rose and set. He also knew that Dana knew what he was. He knew what she was as well; a gypsy descendant. It might be too late, but she would not let him have her friend. The gypsy people were loyal, if nothing else.

"So sorry, but we must go. Thank you for dinner." Before Meghan could say a word, Dana grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door.

"Dana!" said Meghan, sending an apologetic look over her shoulder at the beautiful man.
He smiled slowly, and bowed his head in her direction never losing eye contact. Before she was pulled completely out of the door, he winked at her and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest.

"Another time," he said. Meghan shrugged before the tavern door closed cutting him off from her sight.
Dana marched quickly back toward campus where she was determined to deposit Meghan safely in her room. She knew now she would need to go see her grandmother tonight. There was no time to waste. As the wind howled, and stray drops of rain smacked the cobbles of the street, she could hear the faint laughter of the dark one inside her head.