He left his father after quite the lengthy conversation. They didn’t share/partake in open forum often so this had caught him off guard.
Ethan sat back, easing his muscular body into the welcoming, familiar leather chair in his office. He inherently understood that he’d have to take the time required to realize the measured words most assuredly needed to approach her.
It had become appropriate to procure the woman;
the un released manuscripts, before any further documentation of their existence could be known by the general public.
For Ethan this fact was inconsequential, it was his inner thoughts being exposed causing him to feel apprehension. Complex, layered, his persona couldn’t have been further removed from those around him- yet here before him lie pages upon pages of script in regard…
Garrison held suspicion that she shared in the dreams that plagued the Dire.
Ethan knew better.
Nightmares ripped apart her every days’ close.
He had been watching her for quite some time;
tell tale signs of sleep deprivation wearily told their story in her amber eyes.
From binocular vantage Ethan took witness to the dawn ritual of dancing on the white linen bed, jumping onto the floor in an obvious attempt to seize the day in her own, unique way.
Caused him to smirk, thinking she’d be just the type to do this sort of thing even if made aware of his presence. Ethan imagined her skin soft to the touch- hair flaxen, eyes dancing when told of emotion…
Long an observant of the nature in all that was her, he felt confident that he would, with ease, ascertain Sawyer’s motivation.
If there were truth to the innate knowledge, she’d know him by sight;
sense an immediate connection…
recognize him by pheromones emitted…
Ethan promptly cancelled his afternoon meetings via his secretary and sought out to remove the distance between he and the writer
With great bravado and swagger Ethan possessed the room from the opening of the door, so large was his character;
persona
His smirk the only ‘tell’ to those who knew him intimately, (though there were few to speak of) visibly reminded to choose wisely, carefully and he’d, in return, offer discretion and privacy duality that Ethan vested as importantly as it was for one to draw breath.
Sawyer turned to see him leaning against one of the many heavy oak tables in the establishment
He was of interest to her;
there in resonated a stirred truth deep beneath the façade presented to the world at large. From first glance his age, attractiveness meant little to nothing.
Sawyer thought ‘here is a man who captures and knows his strength… adheres to his own set of standard.’.
She whispered hello, causing Ethan to lean down to her level if merely to hear the breathy salutation.
Sawyer cared not, if you wanted to listen then do so;
No? Than preferably leave the words left unheard.
It only mattered if you held its context in prize.
Ethan felt an unexpected emotional pull immediately, though he’d not readily admit such.
He hadn’t come here with the intent of seduction or the need to become entangled in a web of budding love.
This was only to be a ‘chance’ meeting in order to decide if Saint Andrews posed any type of threat to the Dire.
He afforded her the latitude of standing inappropriately far too close to his person as he began small talk
rapidly turning into deviant banter.
Ethan couldn’t maintain the control that he sought;
Sawyer had a mind of her own that was pressing him for answers unwilling to surface
Finally, he chose to address the true reason he had placed himself in her company (in reference to her novels) “When you penned the stories…how did you know?”
“Could you be more direct?”
“I’m the man that you’ve been writing about honey.”
Sawyer smiled, graciously. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t heard this line spoken all for the want of being acknowledged and desired….
“Feeling that way is a wonderful compliment, thank you. When my writing connects with the reader I’m well pleased.”
Ethan knowingly grinned. Rather then render a useless diatribe about novels etc, he took hold of her hand into his and leveled his gaze to hers.
“I’m able to prove it.”
Sawyer suddenly felt a wave of trepidation take hold of her senses. First of all, her novels revolved around the legend of the werewolf and that of the man spearheading the pack (so to speak) was a love lost to her
Though she felt her life needed no narrative, it most certainly required an open invitation to the man who could hold title to the head of the Dire.
Now standing before her
Strong hand strategically pressing against the small of her back
was the open broad defiance laying claim that he was indeed this man.
Sawyer sighed heavily “I’m listening but be warned; I’m easily bored.”
Ethan closed his light blue eyes for a brief moment, opening them only to reveal a dramatic alteration in color.
Better to show by example than weaken with words.
Ethan bowed his head placing his unshaven face precariously close to hers,
sharing breath
He extended his canines to a much surprised Sawyer “Kiss me honey…”
She shook her head no.
Ethan placed his left hand on her shoulder and began to tug at the grey tightly fit tee shirt that she was wearing in order to expose her lightly freckled shoulder.
Sawyer provided the latitude, curious as to what he would do next
She needn’t wait
He clamped down hard, deep into her flesh drinking the blood up and into his eager mouth
Biting his tongue as well and dropping just enough into the open wound for her to begin to feel the rush of a thousand life times and deaths course through her heart; blood stream
Ethan’s truth was now her realization.
He had driven his point directly home.
In a hoarse, low voice, he offered her this “Tell me love, believe me now?”
She stammered out in a barely audible whisper “I…I…I wrote this…how is it that you are…here? Now?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to procure you, the knowledge that you possess and anything else that sparks my interest.”
“I dreamt the novels…I am not the woman that you believe me to be.”
Sawyer began backing away, fearful, suddenly of what this man could do to her.
Ethan would have none of it.
Saint Andrews had written herself invasively into his life, his mind- by these deeds alone she’d have to succumb to Ethan’s will.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
This is an excerpt from one of the later novels…that moment when you’re faced with what you presumed to know as truth only to discover that fact and fiction are usually entwined in the most unexpected of ways….
I hope that your week was exceptional, finding you well and in high spirits…
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
