N. Walters: Embroidered Fantasies

brutality. Been beaten down time after time. But he always got up again, unable to keep his tongue when he felt strongly about something. He’d always feared he was more like them than he wanted to admit. He could sense the smoldering cauldron of rage bubbling deep in his soul.

He trusted Sednar more than he’d ever trusted another soul, but there was still a part of him that was waiting for his brother to turn on him, to betray him. It left him feeling tainted, unworthy of the trust his brother gave him.

There was a soft sigh and a light breeze caressed his cheek. Then the air in the room stilled and he knew he was alone. The short hairs on the back of his neck rose. “There’s nothing there,” he told himself. He grabbed up his sword and strapped it on. He pulled a brown leather vest from out of the trunk at the end of the bed and tugged it on. His leather pants and boots were dusty, but acceptable. His brother and the steward were waiting.

Roxanne was exhausted by the time she arrived home later that evening. It had only been a partial shift, but the diner had been extremely busy. The rain had cleared off and the nice weather had brought people out to eat.

Coupled with her early excursion to the flea market and her shocking news about Michael, it was no wonder she was dog-tired. Her limbs quivered with fatigue as she stripped off her uniform and dumped it into the hamper. She had to do laundry tomorrow. She’d planned on doing it this evening before she’d agreed to the extra shift at work.

Tomorrow, she promised herself, as she padded to the bathroom. She looked longingly at the tub, but knew she would probably fall asleep within minutes if she tried to take a bath. She was that tired. Instead, she opted for a quick shower. Five minutes later, she was clean and dressed in a pair of yellow cotton pants sprinkled with orange and green flowers and a matching tank top.

Yawning, she turned off the bathroom light. She double-checked the five locks on her front door, making certain each one was secured. She was uneasy even though she knew it was too soon for Michael to have found her. Still, she took the phone and set it on the coffee table next to the davenport.

She made quick work of opening up her bed and spreading out the bedclothes. It was only then she remembered her earlier finds of the day. Her feet made no sound on the tiled floor as she walked to the kitchen chair. The tapestry looked incredible now that the accumulated layers of grime and dirt were gone. She picked it up, pleased to find it was dry.

Forcing herself to be brave, she turned off the kitchen light, leaving on the lamp next to her bed. She couldn’t afford to leave all her lights burning, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to turn them all out. Not yet.

She scooted beneath the covers and laid the tapestry out beside her. The castle was still imposing, even though it seemed more functional than grand. It looked solid and secure. She liked that. The forest seemed alive with animals and birds, surrounded by the forbidding mountains not too far in the distance.

But it was the two men that pulled at her, drew her gaze time and time again. Both had long, dark brown hair. She couldn’t quite tell how long it was, but it looked to go to their waists. One of the men had a pair of thin braids framing his face. The other man’s hair fluttered in the breeze.

She wished she could see their features better. They both looked hard and tough.

Their shoulders were broad, their chests wide. She smiled and wondered about the person who’d created the tapestry. She’d bet it was a woman. The men were obviously fantasies. No men looked that good.

Not that she’d want anything to do with men like that. A shiver skated down her spine. She’d had more than enough of her share of tough, strong men. Michael had proven to her that men like that often used their strength to get what they wanted. She couldn’t imagine being at the mercy of two such men.

Now where the heck had that thought come from? “You’re tired.” She scrubbed her eyes. They felt gritty and heavy. “You’ll never have to worry about dealing with two men, or even one. Not if you don’t want to. You’re in charge.” That had been her mantra for the past year. She was in charge of her own life now. And nothing and nobody was going to change that.

She settled onto her side and sighed. Her fingers traced the patterns of the tapestry.

She knew she needed to switch off the lamp before she fell asleep. She couldn’t afford to waste electricity. She barely made enough to cover her bills as it was. Two minutes, she promised herself as she snuggled into her pillow.

Two minutes.

~

A noise startled her, jolting her into a seated position. The room was pitch black.

She couldn’t see a hand in front of her face. But that was impossible. The streetlamp just outside her kitchen window usually gave her more than enough light to see by at night.

Plus, she’d left a light on. Her heart pounded and sweat popped out all over her body as she listened.

There it was again. A slight brush of fabric that sounded like it was coming from just inside her front door. She scrambled off the davenport, shoving aside the sheet and light blanket. The beat of her heart pounded in her ears, blocking out all other sound.

She held her breath, trying to hear where the intruder was. She had five locks on the door. Why hadn’t she heard someone trying to break in?

“Who’s there?” She’d meant for her voice to be strong. Instead, it had come out as a pitiful whisper.

A low chuckle reached her ears and froze the blood in her veins. “You didn’t really think you could get away from me that easily, did you, Roxy?” Only Michael called her Roxy and she hated it.

How had he found her so quickly? How had he gotten into her apartment? She couldn’t see him or hear him now. Didn’t know where he was. He was playing with her like a cat taunts a mouse before striking.

Her hand fumbled for the phone, but in the dark she couldn’t find it. Her heart skipped a beat when the side of her hand struck it and sent it crashing. She fell to her knees, hands out, frantically patting the floor in search of the phone, her lifeline to help and the outside world.

“You wouldn’t call the cops, now would you, Roxy? I just spent a year in prison because of you and I don’t plan to repeat the experience.” His voice was calm and matter-of-fact. It chilled her soul. He was going to kill her. But god only knew what he’d do to her first.

“You’d better leave.” She needed to get to the kitchen. There were knives in one of the drawers. If nothing else, she could defend herself.

Standing slowly, she inched her way to the kitchen, still not able to see a thing. Not that it mattered. The room was small and she knew the layout. The tile floor was cold against the soles of her feet as she moved quickly and quietly. Only two more steps and she’d be in the kitchen.

She hit a solid wall and bounced back. Strong hands shot out and caught her, pulling her forward.

“No!” she screamed, raising her hands to beat at his chest.

“Shh,” a male voice crooned. “There is no need to be afraid. You are safe.”

Several things registered at once in her muddled brain. The chest she was beating was warm and hard and very naked. It also wasn’t Michael. She glanced over her shoulder, unable to see her apartment in the shrouded darkness. “He’s going to kill me,” she whispered.

At once the man’s demeanor changed. He thrust her behind him and a metallic whoosh filled the air. The stranger walked backward, forcing her to move. She didn’t know where he expected her to go with the kitchen counter only a few steps behind her.

Except the counter wasn’t there. She kept waiting to hit it, but the expanse behind her seemed to open up into nothingness.