The malevolent Czar of Nome had been raised from his cursed slumber. Now with power so wretched, yet so powerful, deluded with a raging vendetta.
Oz was his objective. He shall be king. Upon his side, would be the blessed Lady Glinda, the woman he h...
"You brought honor and greatness not just to Oz, but to the rest of Nonestica"
"And if you are questioning my trust in you, it had always been there. Remained firm and steady. Even I could not trust myself as I do for you."
"You look beautiful, Dorothy, like the first flower that bloomed in spring, the first snowflake that twirled in winter, the first leaf that fell in autumn, and the first ray that shone in summer."
"What have you done to me, Dorothy Gale?"
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Dorothy Gale spent the night, tossing and turning on her bed. His words had kept her trapped in a waking trance, setting her heart aflutter.
She was restless, and that night especially, insomnolent. The heat of his body, the ripple of his muscle, was still fresh in her hand and mind, emitting comfort. Like a pair of gloves, she thought, eyeing her extended fingers, which protect her digits from the harsh chills of winter.
Her mind then wandered to his eyes. Those beautiful, golden, chestnut eyes. No words could describe its attraction. In a romance novel she used to read, the characters would be described with enchanting blue eyes. Like the ocean beneath a raging storm, liable to suffocate you like the waves.
But Edward had brown eyes. Rich like dark chocolate. Concocted with the sweetest honey and caramel. Swirling with the dazzling stars, soft yet dangerously piercing. Accentuated was the beauty with the subtle touch of kohl.
Everything about the man attracts her. She had never met such a man. So beautiful in appearance, graceful in manner. Managed to bind her heart with a flick of his wrist.
She turned to her right side, facing the empty parts of her bed. She ran her fingers across the bed sheet, imagining how her hands ran across the fabric he wore. All the coats, cloaks, and hoods that he wore were soft to the touch, neat, yet at the same time, fashionably cluttered. Her favorite might have been his poet shirt. Loose and baggy, tucked into his tight trousers. The garments were sparse, teasing her with his body as they were silhouetted by the sun.
Dorothy was curious. Wondered about what could have happened at the beach. What would have happened if she did not pull back? What would have happened if he held her longer? Would they have kissed? Would her feeling grow into anything else?
"God damn," She cursed herself. Drooling over a guy.
What has she to offer? She thought. She compared herself with the man, thinking she was out of his league.
It had reached twilight. Her senses heightened. Even the ticks of the oscillating pendulum of the grandfather clock outside her room felt clear. The breeze that blew felt like a hurricane. She was weak. Dorothy grew invested in exploring a secretive side of her mind. A side that she had long forgotten ever since the last time she. . .
Ever since the last time she fell deeply in love with someone.
Now, more than anything in this world or any other, she loved Edward.
