They were a striking couple. The woman had sharp, delicate features and bright green eyes. The man was tall and lean with a thin white scar hanging neatly on his cheek.
They were authors, respected in their own right, and quickly becoming so as a team. They were CC Bella.
“I want you to marry me,” the man said, his voice low.
The woman dragged her eyes away from his and looked down at the table. She began playing with her napkin, tracing its motif with her fingernail.
She looked at him. “Why, so you can have me committed?”
The color drained from his face and his dark eyes suddenly glittered. “You wound,” he said softly. “You really do.”
They were in a local bar. a dark place with craggy ceilings, rutted walls and black furninshings. Candles in iron sconces provided safe passage.
She wadded up her napkin. “You wish” she hissed, stood up and walked away from him.
The place had become crowded but she determinedly made her way toward the exit, trying to think of where she could go. Not home, for he would follow, maybe not right away, but eventually. Probably after a few more drinks….
She was almost to the door, almost out of there.
People were dancing.
A waitress almost bumped into her.
Shadows bobbed along the wall, darted and reached.
Conversation erupted. She recognized a face.
Caught in the flare of candlelight.
She stopped, stared, thought she must have been mistaken and then from behind her someone said, “Whore”, right into her ear.
She whirled around, but there was only the throng.
Shadows.
Candlelight.
She felt spooked. She had to get out of there, but when she reached the door a hand caught her arm. She gasped and looked up.
Constantine.
Somehow he had arrived there before her. “We’re going home” he announced, pushed open the door and pulled her out of the bar. ~