Chap. 8
Eriol finally awoke from the drugged sleep brought on by the drunken orgy he had indulged in last night in desperation, trying futilely and hoping that perhaps liquor could take his madness out of his head. It was all in vain. She hovered in his vision while he was drinking and when he collapsed into drunken oblivion, she haunted his dreams.
He didn't know why. What was wrong with him? Why was it that he saw those twin amethyst eyes everywhere? Why did they intrigue him so much? Even now, he could hear her sweet voice, could still taste her lips on his, could still see her tears.God help him, he was going insane. Yes, he was sure that he had lost his mind. Yet even now, he was going mad with wanting her and feeling her in his arms. He could admit it to himself now, because no matter what he did, no matter how much he wanted-no needed-to deny it, he couldn't escape; he couldn't concentrate on anything but her. When he tried to work, his bank drafts would come out all wrong and full of errors; so preoccupied was he with the fullness of her lips and the curves of her throat.
She was innocence, beauty, light, fire, passion, and.love. God, if someone had told him that he would be infatuated with a purple-eyed woman a week ago, he would have been willing to stake his entire fortune and titles. But now, he knew that it was useless; he was in love with her. Why else would he have been thinking only of her? Of her touch?
In his mind, he could visualize her laughter and the way she would look when her eyes sparkled with mischief. He remembered her fear, her sorrow, and her desperation reflected in her eyes as she looked up at him yesterday, and he had this unexplainable yearning to shut all unhappiness out of her life. He closed his eyes in defeat, slumping over his sofa in exhaustion. Could there be such a thing as love? Could there be caring? Could this be what he had been secretly wishing for to fill the emptiness of his life?
He had lost. He surrendered. He now accepted the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. The feeling was here to stay and he had to cope with what he had. His lips curved upwards in a mocking smile. Wasn't life so ironic? Just a few days ago, he had been vowing that he wouldn't chain himself to anyone. Of course, he had expected to marry, but only for an heir. He had planned to go about his life like he was a bachelor and to continue to have an occasional affair or two. But now, he was thinking about voluntarily binding himself to a woman whose name he did not know in his haste to get away.
Fool. He was a hundred different kinds of a fool. But even as he cursed himself for caring for her, he could not bear the thought of her in another man's arms. If he didn't know better, he would say that she was a witch who was using her black magic to weave a spell around him. However, witches did not exist.
Leaning his head against the cushions, he let himself fall into oblivion and into the arms of a woman with lavender eyes and a warm smile. And he did not resist.
**************************
Hey, people. Thanks for reading the 8th chapter. Okay, here was some more denial and all that, but I think this was nice. Now, no more of Eriol and his thoughts for the moment. Next comes the action! Also, I have found some sweet stories that I have written with the same protagonists used in this story. Therefore, I will proceed to edit and post it up. Look at my profile sometime this week or next; I can't promise. Thanks once again.
Eriol finally awoke from the drugged sleep brought on by the drunken orgy he had indulged in last night in desperation, trying futilely and hoping that perhaps liquor could take his madness out of his head. It was all in vain. She hovered in his vision while he was drinking and when he collapsed into drunken oblivion, she haunted his dreams.
He didn't know why. What was wrong with him? Why was it that he saw those twin amethyst eyes everywhere? Why did they intrigue him so much? Even now, he could hear her sweet voice, could still taste her lips on his, could still see her tears.God help him, he was going insane. Yes, he was sure that he had lost his mind. Yet even now, he was going mad with wanting her and feeling her in his arms. He could admit it to himself now, because no matter what he did, no matter how much he wanted-no needed-to deny it, he couldn't escape; he couldn't concentrate on anything but her. When he tried to work, his bank drafts would come out all wrong and full of errors; so preoccupied was he with the fullness of her lips and the curves of her throat.
She was innocence, beauty, light, fire, passion, and.love. God, if someone had told him that he would be infatuated with a purple-eyed woman a week ago, he would have been willing to stake his entire fortune and titles. But now, he knew that it was useless; he was in love with her. Why else would he have been thinking only of her? Of her touch?
In his mind, he could visualize her laughter and the way she would look when her eyes sparkled with mischief. He remembered her fear, her sorrow, and her desperation reflected in her eyes as she looked up at him yesterday, and he had this unexplainable yearning to shut all unhappiness out of her life. He closed his eyes in defeat, slumping over his sofa in exhaustion. Could there be such a thing as love? Could there be caring? Could this be what he had been secretly wishing for to fill the emptiness of his life?
He had lost. He surrendered. He now accepted the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. The feeling was here to stay and he had to cope with what he had. His lips curved upwards in a mocking smile. Wasn't life so ironic? Just a few days ago, he had been vowing that he wouldn't chain himself to anyone. Of course, he had expected to marry, but only for an heir. He had planned to go about his life like he was a bachelor and to continue to have an occasional affair or two. But now, he was thinking about voluntarily binding himself to a woman whose name he did not know in his haste to get away.
Fool. He was a hundred different kinds of a fool. But even as he cursed himself for caring for her, he could not bear the thought of her in another man's arms. If he didn't know better, he would say that she was a witch who was using her black magic to weave a spell around him. However, witches did not exist.
Leaning his head against the cushions, he let himself fall into oblivion and into the arms of a woman with lavender eyes and a warm smile. And he did not resist.
**************************
Hey, people. Thanks for reading the 8th chapter. Okay, here was some more denial and all that, but I think this was nice. Now, no more of Eriol and his thoughts for the moment. Next comes the action! Also, I have found some sweet stories that I have written with the same protagonists used in this story. Therefore, I will proceed to edit and post it up. Look at my profile sometime this week or next; I can't promise. Thanks once again.