---Chapter 25---
That night, Victoria was in a dream. Lovely, contentment. One such as she had not had in months now. She was standing in the midst of a splendid floral garden - colors more vivid than any she'd ever seen in waking. Towering statues were scattered here and there amidst the blue-green and red leaves and myriad blossoms. The temperature was pleasant, the light almost surreal. She was not alone.
A man stood with her - she couldn't forget the feeling of his presence, he had been the man in her dreams all her life. She never saw his face. Always his clothing, form, his hands. No more. And his voice. Beautiful and rich, as he said, "I've missed you."
In a sweeping instant, it was as if the darkly invisible shield that never allowed her to see his face in her dreams - was lifted. It disappeared. It was not there. She saw his face.
The shock forced her awake. She was sitting up in bed, hardly able to breathe. The man's smooth face, full lips, haunting eyes. Haunting. Beautiful. Wavy hair longer, yes, but it was . . .Michael.
It couldn't be. Michael Guerin could not be the one for her. Not the man of her dreams always. The one she'd dreamed of since she could first remember dreaming, the one she knew she had to find one day - the dream man who gave her hope and strength in her darkest hours. Victoria couldn't force that thought, fact, whatever it was - into her mind. Jumping up, she put on the clothes easiest to access and went to Adam's office. In the dark in one drawer she found the keys to all of the automobiles. She got the keys for the black BMW and left the mansion.
Victoria got onto the highway and drove straight to Roswell. It took a while to get there, but she speeded, so it took a lot less time than usual driving normally would.
When she got into town, she drove straight to Michael's apartment. It was late - the middle of the night, who knew what time. She wasn't thinking that she and Michael weren't really on good terms now or that Maria might be there - or anything, except she had to find out someway, somehow - if "he" was Michael, the dreams, that's all she could think of.
The door was locked, but it wasn't really hard to get in. The apartment was quiet, somewhat cool, dark. She opened the door to Michael's bedroom.
And Victoria saw that he lay there, face awash in moonlight streaming through a crack in the curtains. She closed the door softly behind her and walked to the edge of his bed and looked down at him. She had an irresistible urge to touch his cheek. She did, but then his eyes opened. She almost expected him to leap up or get angry, but he said, "Again, you." Then, "Why are you torturing me? Always the dreams."
"Michael," Victoria said softly, surprised. "I've driven from Las Cruces, because there was something I had to find out. Will you let me?"
Silence.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, she leaned towards him. She was pretty sure he knew what she was going to do - and he let her kiss him.
He didn't respond and she saw nothing, so she started to sit up, but Michael pulled her back down to him. This kiss was full of such sweet passion and fierce longing that it surprised them both. Images poured into both their minds, but how could they concentrate on any of them when all they could do was feel each other. It went to fierce, passion, but when Michael rolled her under him, he became softly sweet and languorously slow. He had to touch all of her, kiss her, find relief if for at least one night.
Victoria smoothed back his hair and kissed his forehead, his cheek, his closed eyelids reverently. She felt the most connected in all ways - then she ever had to anyone. It was like dreamland. She didn't have a thought to be scared or confused, but she got her answer. And before they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, she barely heard his whispering words, "I've missed you." Same voice, same words, from her dream . . .
---End of Chapter 25---
That night, Victoria was in a dream. Lovely, contentment. One such as she had not had in months now. She was standing in the midst of a splendid floral garden - colors more vivid than any she'd ever seen in waking. Towering statues were scattered here and there amidst the blue-green and red leaves and myriad blossoms. The temperature was pleasant, the light almost surreal. She was not alone.
A man stood with her - she couldn't forget the feeling of his presence, he had been the man in her dreams all her life. She never saw his face. Always his clothing, form, his hands. No more. And his voice. Beautiful and rich, as he said, "I've missed you."
In a sweeping instant, it was as if the darkly invisible shield that never allowed her to see his face in her dreams - was lifted. It disappeared. It was not there. She saw his face.
The shock forced her awake. She was sitting up in bed, hardly able to breathe. The man's smooth face, full lips, haunting eyes. Haunting. Beautiful. Wavy hair longer, yes, but it was . . .Michael.
It couldn't be. Michael Guerin could not be the one for her. Not the man of her dreams always. The one she'd dreamed of since she could first remember dreaming, the one she knew she had to find one day - the dream man who gave her hope and strength in her darkest hours. Victoria couldn't force that thought, fact, whatever it was - into her mind. Jumping up, she put on the clothes easiest to access and went to Adam's office. In the dark in one drawer she found the keys to all of the automobiles. She got the keys for the black BMW and left the mansion.
Victoria got onto the highway and drove straight to Roswell. It took a while to get there, but she speeded, so it took a lot less time than usual driving normally would.
When she got into town, she drove straight to Michael's apartment. It was late - the middle of the night, who knew what time. She wasn't thinking that she and Michael weren't really on good terms now or that Maria might be there - or anything, except she had to find out someway, somehow - if "he" was Michael, the dreams, that's all she could think of.
The door was locked, but it wasn't really hard to get in. The apartment was quiet, somewhat cool, dark. She opened the door to Michael's bedroom.
And Victoria saw that he lay there, face awash in moonlight streaming through a crack in the curtains. She closed the door softly behind her and walked to the edge of his bed and looked down at him. She had an irresistible urge to touch his cheek. She did, but then his eyes opened. She almost expected him to leap up or get angry, but he said, "Again, you." Then, "Why are you torturing me? Always the dreams."
"Michael," Victoria said softly, surprised. "I've driven from Las Cruces, because there was something I had to find out. Will you let me?"
Silence.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, she leaned towards him. She was pretty sure he knew what she was going to do - and he let her kiss him.
He didn't respond and she saw nothing, so she started to sit up, but Michael pulled her back down to him. This kiss was full of such sweet passion and fierce longing that it surprised them both. Images poured into both their minds, but how could they concentrate on any of them when all they could do was feel each other. It went to fierce, passion, but when Michael rolled her under him, he became softly sweet and languorously slow. He had to touch all of her, kiss her, find relief if for at least one night.
Victoria smoothed back his hair and kissed his forehead, his cheek, his closed eyelids reverently. She felt the most connected in all ways - then she ever had to anyone. It was like dreamland. She didn't have a thought to be scared or confused, but she got her answer. And before they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, she barely heard his whispering words, "I've missed you." Same voice, same words, from her dream . . .
---End of Chapter 25---