If only
Prologue
Rosha is a seventeen year old psychic and an agent for the Talamasca. Her mentor and perhaps the only men she ever loved, Leo posed as a Talmasaca agent, taking her under his wing quite literally until the heavens forced him to disappear from her life. Now he watches, waits, wishes and dreams
Every night before I go to sleep I whisper a pray to you Leo, where ever you are? I just hope one day destiny will return you safely to me
Rosha leaned over the balcony of the Victorian mansion staring up at the stary night sky. Her mind, her thoughts, her memories drifted off into the oblivion she often found herself sinking into. Always thinking, she could never stop, not that she wanted to. It was all she’d ever known, her friend and foe at the same time.
A light drizzle fell overhead, the moist, warm droplets clinging to the edges of her light blond hair as Rosha finally snapped from her deep thoughts and with a swish of liliacs she swept inside the mansion to curl up amongst a deep chair to finish her readings.
If only she could see him, feel him.
Leo sighed watching, slowly closing his eyes only to open them again to see Rosha reading intently from her book, a lock of blonde flopping over her forehead, her lavender eyes narrowed slightly in concentrate as they always were when she was reading, thinking, writing, studying. Her petite frame curled up perfectly in the chair and he saw her shiver slightly from the cold, a slender hand reaching up to slip her loose hair behind a small ear. Leo turned, waving a hand with ease as the french doors of the balcony closed by the wind to the mortal eye. He walked to her side, leaning over her to see what his once bright young pupil was reading. “Mysteries of Minoans”. Yes, only Rosha could lose herself in history that easily.
“Rosha, I wish...”, slowly he let a hand touch her hair before pulling it back as she turned, distracted. Leo froze, hoping perhaps her psychic ability could somehow let her see him in his hidden angel form. But Rosha didn’t see him, instead mearly returning to her book.
If only she knew how much he cared
Rosha is a seventeen year old psychic and an agent for the Talamasca. Her mentor and perhaps the only men she ever loved, Leo posed as a Talmasaca agent, taking her under his wing quite literally until the heavens forced him to disappear from her life. Now he watches, waits, wishes and dreams
Every night before I go to sleep I whisper a pray to you Leo, where ever you are? I just hope one day destiny will return you safely to me
Rosha leaned over the balcony of the Victorian mansion staring up at the stary night sky. Her mind, her thoughts, her memories drifted off into the oblivion she often found herself sinking into. Always thinking, she could never stop, not that she wanted to. It was all she’d ever known, her friend and foe at the same time.
A light drizzle fell overhead, the moist, warm droplets clinging to the edges of her light blond hair as Rosha finally snapped from her deep thoughts and with a swish of liliacs she swept inside the mansion to curl up amongst a deep chair to finish her readings.
If only she could see him, feel him.
Leo sighed watching, slowly closing his eyes only to open them again to see Rosha reading intently from her book, a lock of blonde flopping over her forehead, her lavender eyes narrowed slightly in concentrate as they always were when she was reading, thinking, writing, studying. Her petite frame curled up perfectly in the chair and he saw her shiver slightly from the cold, a slender hand reaching up to slip her loose hair behind a small ear. Leo turned, waving a hand with ease as the french doors of the balcony closed by the wind to the mortal eye. He walked to her side, leaning over her to see what his once bright young pupil was reading. “Mysteries of Minoans”. Yes, only Rosha could lose herself in history that easily.
“Rosha, I wish...”, slowly he let a hand touch her hair before pulling it back as she turned, distracted. Leo froze, hoping perhaps her psychic ability could somehow let her see him in his hidden angel form. But Rosha didn’t see him, instead mearly returning to her book.
If only she knew how much he cared