The Hidden

Does she know about Caspian? There’s no way …

I squared my shoulders and turned back to the house. Something told me that even if Cyn did have an idea of what was going on, she wasn’t going to tell anyone. At least not anytime soon.

I glanced down at my phone again, feeling a pinch of nerves in my stomach. It was 12:13 a.m. November first.

Caspian’s death day.

Chapter Twenty-one. NOVEMBER FIRST

When he entered the house, the conquest of his heart was complete.

– “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

My legs were shaky as I walked up the front walkway, and I exhaled. I put one hand on the doorknob, turned it slowly, and then pushed the door open. A trail of red rose petals greeted me, leading the way across the living room and into the kitchen. I followed it and found a piece of paper there that said, Astrid, come find me upstairs.

Placing my purse on the counter, I slipped off my shoes, then padded over to the downstairs bathroom. My white dress was hanging on the back of the door there. Please let him like me in it …

Taking another deep breath, I unzipped the back of my red dress and wiggled my way out of it, draping it across the edge of the tub. I pulled down the white dress and gently removed it from its plastic garment bag. The silky fabric whispered across my skin as I stepped into it, and I could almost hear the soft sighs of another time and place. Of another woman, who had worn this dress before me, to go meet the man she loved before he would be taken from her forever.

The bodice took some extra time to lace because my hands were trembling, but finally, finally I was ready.

I turned and looked in the mirror, slightly stunned again by my miracle cleavage. The dress was just as beautiful as the first time I’d tried it on. It was as if it had been made for me.

My makeup, however, was not beautiful anymore. I pulled off the false eyelashes that I’d been wearing, and washed away the mascara stains from under each eye. Luckily, I had a spare cosmetics bag under the counter, so I was able to touch up my blush and lip gloss. I didn’t want to overdo it too much. It didn’t feel right in this dress.

I debated whether or not to take my hair down, but decided to leave it up. Caspian hardly ever saw me wear it that way and I wanted to surprise him. I did take out the rose that Ben had given me, though, and put it on the sink.

With one final look, I left the bathroom behind and started slowly up the stairs.

I could feel the rough pattern of the carpet runner underneath my bare feet, and I tried to focus on that. My stomach felt all fluttery and nervous, and with every step I took, I came closer and closer to the reality waiting for me just a few short feet away. Please, please let him like me …

Please …

The top of the stairs was lit with candles, and more rose petals were scattered on the floor. They pointed to my bedroom.

I bent to pick one of the rose petals up and rubbed the velvety smoothness between my fingertips. This is a dream. It has to be.

My bedroom door was open, and I could see more candles lit inside there. The flower petal path led me to the bed, and I didn’t even realize that I’d been holding my breath, until I stepped into the room.

Caspian was sitting there. Head turned. Looking away.

Holding my breath, feeling my chest get tight and my head grow fuzzy, I moved closer to the bed. Closer to him.

He was wearing a tuxedo. Classic black, with a white shirt and dark tie. His hair was swept back, but I could tell that stubborn black streak didn’t want to stay in place, and his green eyes were bright and unnaturally shiny in the candlelight. Twin orbs of flame reflected back at me in the irises.

He stood and took a step. Then another.

I held my breath again.

“You,” he whispered, bringing his hand to hover by my cheek, “are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

And then he touched me.

A shock wave of feeling rolled through me, and I turned my face into his palm, closing my eyes, rubbing my cheek against his hand like a kitten demanding to be nuzzled. Demanding to be closer.

Finding it hard to believe it had been a whole year since the last time I’d felt his skin, my fingers were greedy and grasping, sliding onto his coat. Up his shoulder. Into his hair. I reached for him … and he was solid.

Caspian reached for me at the same time, and we crashed somewhere in between want and need. His free hand laced with mine, and I felt. Everything that was there, everything that made up him, I felt. The solid warmth of his fingers. The gentleness of his hand. Even the tiny bumps and ridges that were a part of his knuckles.

He cradled the back of my head, and it was blinding speed, and a mad, sweet rush as a tidal wave of emotion washed over me. The space between us had been there for so long, and now I was pressed against him, and laughing and crying, and trying not to let my makeup run all over the place again. …

And I could feel.

We could feel.

He was real, and I was real, and this was so real.

I tipped my face up, blindly searching for his. He pulled away his hands and traced my cheeks, my lips, my eyebrows, my chin. Any part of me he could touch, he touched. Slowly. Achingly. While the whole time I was going mad, burning from a fire within that was tearing me apart.

“Please, please,” I heard myself whispering. “Please …”

Then he kissed me. And I was lost.

If I’d thought I had been burning before, this was drowning. My lips coaxed his apart, and I couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t feel enough. Wasn’t close enough.

I pushed myself against him and ran a searching hand through the inside of his jacket. Closer. I wanted to be closer.

A shirt was in my way, and I wanted to howl in outrage. Hurriedly, I unbuttoned the top button, and it gave way to skin.

I had found him, and he was mine.

Caspian groaned, and pulled me against him even tighter. I could feel all of him, even through the bulkiness of my dress. We moved backward, and a wall was suddenly behind me. My hands moved up, twining in his hair, and his hands moved down. Across my collarbone.

I couldn’t stop kissing him. Tasting him. Touching him. And my hands roamed freely. I had a lifetime of touch to make up for in such a short period of time.

He broke away and kissed my neck, I shivered. He slowed at a sensitive spot near the bottom of my ear, and my knees almost gave out. “Ummmmmmm,” I said.

“What’s that?” Caspian whispered. He lifted his head a fraction of an inch.

“Don’t stop. That’s what I said.”

“Oh, really?” He laced his fingers through mine, and pinned my hands against the wall. “Because I thought it