After much consideration, deliberation, and beating myself up over it, I have decided to write the "companion" novel to Dried-Up Roses, the details of Erik and Christine's eight-year travel from Persia to Paris. I've had so many ideas for it over the last week or so that I just had to start it and it finally came together. So here we go…Global Desire.

Global Desire

The Companion to Dried-Up Roses

Prologue – The Beginning

Persia 1875

Christine has drifted off to sleep, content to simply dream the night away. I, however, can do no such thing. So much has happened that I find it hard to even lie still, let alone close my eyes and let somnolence take me. A cool gust of wind passes through the open window every few minutes, sweeping its chill across the room like a spell, casting a breath of cold on my deformed cheek and on the exposed skin of my neck and chest, and on Christine's bare back. As she sleeps, I breathe in the scent of her hair, dark curls cascading around her face and neck like a frame, lying in tangles upon my shoulder where her head rests. I am so very aware of her breathing, of the life in her, and of the feeling of her skin touching my own, like if I let go of that feeling all of this will evaporate as if it never happened; I still doubt whether or not it did.

Do not dwell on the past; think of your future. Think of your future together. The world; she wants to see the world, and who am I to deny her anything? After all we've been through, after all that has happened, there is nothing I want more than to simply be by her side, wherever that may be, and I promised her such. As much as I am still willing to conceive that this is all a cruel dream of mine I cannot help but think about what it will be like to be by Christine's side, forever and always, not as a demon of the past or a fearsome apparition but as her friend and lover.

Lover. The word hits me like a splash of cold water to the face; am I really now her lover? However much I have wanted it, I did not ever believe that it would come to pass, and now that it has…fear takes me suddenly. I have never even imagined that I would ever be a woman's lover, not with my history and my looks. What does she expect of me? What am I to do for her?

I realize that I've been breathing rather heavily from these realizations when I feel Christine stir beside me. "Erik," she murmurs, her voice hoarse from sleep, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing, mon ange," I say gently, trying to calm my own heart rate. "Go back to sleep." Christine presses her lips softly to my neck before nestling herself back between my body and the sheets and dozing off. I run my hand soothingly along her back, caressing her skin until I am sure that she is sleeping. Dawn is not far off; soon enough she will awaken once more and the day will begin, far different than those preceding it.

Maybe this will not be so different for me. Have I not doted upon Christine since the moment I began her singing lessons near fifteen years ago? Were my intentions not those of a lover's for at least half of that? This new relationship, this new beginning…is it not all that different than what came before it?

My eyes finally close in sleep. Yes, this new day will be no different, but it will be far better.

2