"I . . .will . . . not . . . think . . . of . . . him!" Survinah's fist punched out the words against the pillows. Blowing up at the hair in front of her eyes, she crawled around the bed tugging at the tangled sheets. "Grown women don't need fantasy lovers, Survinah. Grow up!" Falling back into the pillows, she yanked the satin quilt up to her chin. Shutting her eyes she laid perfectly still and willed her mind to sleep; instant sleep, no thoughts, only dreamless sleep. She moaned over the effort it took to relax, tossing one way and then the next. Another number flipped over on the clock and she swore she could hear the tiny gears turning. "This is useless!"

Survinah reached for the phone but hesitated before dialing Gloria's number. Grumbling under her breath, "That's right, Survinah, call her and ruin all your progress today. I never should have asked her about the dreams." After suffering Gloria's prying questions all afternoon, Survinah figured it would take some major convincing to get her friend calmed down. Getting out of bed, she slipped on the matching satin robe to her nightgown. The soft material folded about her waist and hips as it swirled around her legs.

Jerking open the bedroom door, she headed for the kitchen. Absently rubbing the robe's satin sleeves, Survinah didn't realize she was holding her breath until she flipped on the light above the stove. Whispering to herself, "Tea, cinnamon rose, that should do the trick." Slapping the kettle on the burner and turning up the flame, she moved knowingly about the kitchen, gathering a cup from the cupboard . . . .

A deep, decidingly male voice filled the silence in the apartment, paralyzing her in stunned stillness.

"Stop woman! Stop this endless calling!"

Startled by the kettle's piercing whistle, Survinah helplessly watched the cup slip from her fingers and shatter in the sink. Spinning around she fumbled with the stove's control until she killed the flame under the kettle. Wrapping her shaking hands about her waist, she took deep breaths, forcing herself to concentrate on the hissing stream of vapor.

"Let me go woman! Stop your witching ways. End this spell you hold me in!" Malice governed the familiar voice that had no right to sound so commandingly alive.

"No-o-o . . ." The denial tore through her clenched teeth. She refused to turn toward the low furious voice. "I won't see you!" Covering her eyes with her sweaty palms, she desperately told herself, "This isn't happening . . .You aren't real! Go away!"

"Release me and I will gladly leave you!"

The threat in the man's seething response nearly made her cry out. This could not be real, he was only a dream. "I'm not dreaming now, am I?" She brought her hands away from her eyes and gripped the counter for support. Survinah's frantic whispers swirled through the rising steam, "He's not here . . . this isn't real. I'm not even in bed, so I can't be sleeping!" To prove her own feeble belief, Survinah gingerly reached out to touch the kettle, quickly pulling her fingers back from the heat. "There, see, I am not sleeping. You can't feel pain when you sleep." Slowly releasing her breath, "He's not real, Survinah."

"I am as real as you are witch, turn around and face me, if you dare!"

Annoyance and anger rose in equal degrees as Arion asked himself again, What manner of woman was this? She is here, the one ruling his mind every waking moment . . . and the nights, never did he escape her alluring shadow. God, what did I do to deserve this punishment? Maybe it was not God's work, for surely she was some kind of witch. He never believed in witches and hexes, but nothing else made sense for the strange happenings in his life.

Arion kept his eyes fixed on the vision before him, knowing he would use physical force to stop her, should she try to escape his presence. He wished she would turn to face him, allow him to confirm the image embedded in his mind. His haunting enchantress could only be the blue-eyed beauty before him. He knew every delicate, enticing curve of that womanly body silhouetted against the soft, hugging gown where those golden curls ended. Soft as spun honey, the golden wisps floated on an invisible breeze, kissing her lovely body . . . . "Enticing sorceress!"

Clenching his hands until the knuckles turned white, he resisted the temptation to reach out and touch her. Arion wanted, beyond reason, to hold the celestial vision who had come to him so lovingly, seeking his warmth. Her enchanting curves brandished promises of passion born of innocence. He would wake, his body soaked with sweat, steeled with his need to possess her. Every night the callings grew stronger, more ardent, filling his hours with pure, sweet torture; always she remained illusive, just beyond his grasp. So aggressive was her magic she began to come to him at all hours, haunting the daylight, casting her shadow about him until he thought he was going insane. Demented, because he alone could see her haunting image. Arion was obsessed with the burning desire to experience and possess the libertine vision, regardless of the consequence. An act, he suspected he would burn in hell over, for only a witch could be doing this to him.

Arion Masters was not a man to be trifled with. He fought her insistent pleas to come to her and the fight had been as fierce as any battle. The internal battle of wills raged inside him until he had enough. Tonight he vowed to destroy the hold she could wield over him. Dropping his barriers, he listened to her soft beguiling pleas, letting them grow stronger and stronger, until their intensity hauled him through the darkness.

She was with him now, no longer an unreachable illusion; standing there, quivering from whatever force brought them together. As easy as reaching out and capturing her appeared, Arion refused to let her control him. He wanted answers from her, but seeing her, being so close, was almost more temptation than he could withstand. "Woman, I said turn and face me. I have answered your summons. Now you will answer mine."

The air felt like it was dancing . . . that is all this was, a dream, her fantasy was now a nightmare. By facing her imaginary man he would vanish, he must. As she turned, Survinah braced herself, hoping that the vision she conjured up would be there, terrified of what might be in its place.

Sucking in her breath, she faced the image. God, he was everything she had fantasized and her eyes feasted on her creation, all imaginary six foot plus of it. Tempting waves of thick black hair were pulled back to the nape of his neck, tied there by a silk bow. Had she created a new fashion statement with her vision? The modest pony tail wasn't very long, if loose it would join the locks about his strong face, framing it quite handsomely. Captured and stunned by what her imagination had assembled, her fear shimmered away, dissolving into the darkness surrounding them. Deep blue eyes brightened in determination as she took her first step toward him, her vision. She would enjoy this night, knowing, that like her dreams he would fade in the morning light.

Smiling into the dark formidable eyes, "This is my dream, I would like it down." She reached up and loosened the bow, slipping it from the rich thickness. Fascinated with her creation she fanned the satin waves about the firm jaw and sculptured neck until the locks rested on his broad shoulders.

Survinah's eyes glowed over the new effect. "There, not as harsh." Her gaze drank him in. "Very nice, gentler . . ."

Stepping in front of him, she took in every compelling feature of his proud face, reinforcing the memory of her creation. "So handsome . . . manly. Yes, very much a man." He was only an apparition and she felt bold over the unexpected freedom. Every striking detail of her dream stood before her. "It's amazing."

Dark, hostile eyes followed the strange actions of the resplendent beauty. She stood so close he could smell her sweetness. Allowing himself, Arion inhaled, filling his senses with her essence until he felt dizzy from the imprisoning enchantment. Every muscle cried out to take her, crush her seductive warmth to his own fierce heat and taste the luscious temptation lingering so near. Her actions beguiled and fascinated him. He would let her take her liberties a little further, then he would exert his own.

His eyes, so black they could reflect the stars, held her own, making her breath catch in a whisper. "For a dream, you certainly are intense."

She raised her hand to his face, wanting to soften the hardness glaring down at her. Survinah became fascinated over the contrast between their coloring. His tan was aggressive against her ivory softness. Stroking his cheek she tipped her head to the side, surprised when her hand didn't go through the image. "Are dreams this solid?"

Running her fingers over the smooth, strong plane of his brow, she slowly lowered her exploration until she caressed every firm, vital inch of his face. It was as if, by touching, the dream would stay forever. Taking her index finger, she traced the full lines of his lips as she wanted to do so many times before. The bottom lip was fuller, sending thrilling promises tingling through her sensitive finger tips, causing her to pull away from their cloaked power.

Stepping back a little, she took in the full height and the width of his chest and shoulders. "So much bigger than my dream, I like it."

Wanting to see more, but afraid she would destroy the image, she held back from releasing the thin cord holding the deep vee of his billowy shirt together. Spellbound, her heated gaze swept over the firm lines of his hips, down the powerful stance of muscled legs covered by tight fitting, black pants. Soft, black leather boots came up, hugging his calves before flowing into wide cuffs at the knees. He was beautiful, breathtaking, everything she imagined and more.

Returning her eyes to his face, she wanted one last look, regretting he would soon be gone, had to go. Fervently, her heated gaze raced over him, wanting to remember, thankful for the unusual clarity of this dream, knowing she would never forget him. He would vanish, maybe forever. "If only . . ."

Drawn by desire Survinah moved closer, "Just one . . . please?" she whispered, hoping it was possible. Standing on tip toes, Survinah gave into her obsession over his arresting lips. Barely touching the lips before her, she breathed deeply, taking in the scent about her; a wild, heady aroma, filled with the essence of the open sky and salt tainted ocean. The dark liquid pools reflected her image, making her wish she could lose herself in their ardent depths, forever. She closed her eyes and moved closer; touching, seeking the dream, finding the man.

"I wish you were real." All her heart's longings came out in feathery softness against the impassioned lips now capturing her own. Dream, so be it. Survinah melted against the surrounding heat. Feeling the pressure demanding her attention, she gave into the call. The pleasures flowing through her were so real, so powerful, they became her existence and she demanded more.

Unable to refuse her, Arion folded the enchantress within the circle of his arms, gently bringing her body against his own. Capturing her willing lips, he took her, deepening the kiss her haunting pleas begged him to master. His hands encircled her small waist, roaming freely over the delicately curved hips. Arion fought down the ravenous yearning mounting inside him, needing more to cherish the feel of her and experience the desire she so willingly gave over to him. Like a rose she was opening in his arms, each touch brought her closer to his total possession. Her freedom and spontaneity amazed, yet pleased him beyond all common expectations.

When an enchanting moan escaped her exquisite lips, Arion feared he would be branded by the blaze she ignited. Pressing her closer, he molded her hips to his manhood, confirming the power she held him in. When she moved enticingly over his passion, his moan blended with the music of her bewitching song. Plunging his tongue into her heated sweetness he took everything she offered until she melted in surrender against him.

His large hands held her firmly, devouring the mystical softness, the strength of her surrender breathed reckless excitement through Arion. All rational thought fled, burning was worth the ecstasy he discovered in his arms. He would never let her go, not now, even if it meant he was condemned to purgatory for all eternity. Arion would not be denied!

Holding back his mounting passion, nearly drove his obsession for her to the surface. He took the soft swell of her breast in his palm, letting the captured weight fill his hand as he gently rolled the succulent bud beneath his fingers. The surge of triumph over its response stormed through him. Arion watched as her head fell back in defeat, offering him his freedom with her.

Arion's lips burned a hot trail down her lovely neck, taking their fill of her throbbing life. Trailing his fevered tongue over the tip of her exposed breast, he pushed its fullness up, impatient with the satin thwarting his exploration. Ripping the material from the ivory globes, his eyes lingered on the deep, swollen buds a breathless moment before his mouth covered the tender nipple. Sucking deeply of the honeyed flowers, she became molten ecstasy in his arms. Her provocative cries barely penetrated the thunder of passion swirling inside him.

"Oh, God! Don't let him vanish. He's my dream. I want to keep him. Please? Forever!"

Lifting her in his arms, Arion gathered her unresisting body to him. Instinct drove him back toward the barren darkness. "You are mine, vixen! I will never give you back to whatever master you claim. God or devil, they will neither claim you. You are mine . . . witch!"

Through the burning flames capturing her senses, Survinah's mind heard the hostile vow. With it came a shuddering feeling that reached beyond the passion her dream had taken her into. She felt the man! His arms were strong and held her in an unbreakable grip against his rock solid chest. Reality came rushing in, bringing a flood of panic.

"Dreams aren't real . . . not solid." Groaning, she knew they didn't carry the flames of overwhelming passion she felt.

"I am no dream, madam, and neither are you."

"No!" she moaned, her cry tearing through the haze swallowing her, ripping deep inside against the very real danger rising to seize her. Fear brought with it reality and he was all too real!

Striking out in earnest against the steel hold surrounding her, she battled against him! Survinah confronted a shocking fear for the truth she had failed to see. No dream could be holding her like he was, touch her the way he did, kiss. . . .

"I didn't, couldn't have." Her groan of denial failed to erase the passionate memories still running rampant inside her.

"Let me go!" Her eyes flew open to meet his, the scorching glare nearly forced hers away. "You must! You're not real . . . a dream! This can't be happening!" Her voice was shaking, screaming out with the sudden urgency filling her senses.

"I assure you, I am no dream."

Survinah's eyes grew large under his words. The truth was there, beneath her hands. "Please . . . I made a mistake, I'm sorry. Put me down! You have to!"

"Why? Afraid of your master?"

"Master?"

"Devil or God, woman, he can naught help you now. I have you and you are most certainly as real as I. Damned as I may be, I am determined to keep you!"

Touching him made him real and what he had done to her, no man had ever done. Her body still trembled in submission under the fires of awakened desires. "I'm scared, please put me down." He had to listen.

"Enough!"

"It's gone too far. You must leave!"

"You started this."

"I'm sorry, I needed . . . I didn't mean . . ." What was she saying? He couldn't be a dream come to life. A nut! Yes a burglar, they were all over New York. Oh God, that was even worse!

"Please take what you want, just let me go."

His eyes grew shadowy in their fevered conviction, stilling her panicky cries, ending her frantic movements. True fear filled her over the cold sneer replacing remembered warmth, causing a frightened moan to escape unchecked from her trembling lips.

"I have what I want."

Words failed her as his meaning sank to the depth of her panic, causing her to stare wide eyed and shaking in denial.

Turning with her locked in his arms, his challenging laughter struck out against the devouring blackness. Sinking into the void, Survinah lost herself in the abyss, clinging to him as they fell, her terrified scream filling the darkness.

 Copyright @ Jewel Brennan July 1991

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