Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) by Danielle Martin Williams Page A

they will think you to be a sorceress of sorts.”
    I looked down , forgetting my jeans and tank top would certainly be a giveaway that I didn’t belong in this world.
    “Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed, remembering the contents in my bag. I swung it off my back and pulled out the beautiful burgundy dress Stacey had given me.
    His jaw shifted to left , as he stared at me intently, long enough to make me glance away uncomfortably.
                  He crossed his arms, keeping his unwavering glare on me. “What kind of girl are you?” he asked quietly and very seriously.
                  “W-what do you mean?” I stammered, feeling more uncomfortable than I thought humanly possible.
                  He huffed out a breath. “Well, you had the power to free me from a curse in which nobody for hundreds of years could, you climb trees as a boy would,” his eyebrow rose higher, “and now you magically have a dress in that… pack.” He gestured toward my black backpack.
                  “No, it’s not magic,” I started quickly. “I have a project on this time period. That’s why I was in the museum. That’s how I found you. As for the dress, my friend gave it to me for the project.”
                  He didn’t take his impenetrable glare off me, and he didn’t speak for some time.
                  “I’m not a witch,” I whispered.
                  “Then why are you so nervous?” he asked darkly.
                  “Because… because you are sort of… terrifying,” I mumbled slowly.
                  The right side of his mouth curled up into an iniquitous grin, and his eyes were dark. He stepped closer to me, deliberately slow, until our faces were only inches apart. I gulped, as my heart beat irregularly, no longer sure if it was from fear or excitement. My cheek tingled as he leaned in putting his lips close to my ear.
                  “So you are scared of me,” he whispered. It was frightening but perversely sexy.
                  “S-sometimes…” I admitted, trembling slightly. 
                  “And now?” he prompted, pulling away slightly but keeping his face awkwardly close to mine.
                  “Yes,” I choked out, darting my eyes away from the callous green eyes staring into my soul and realizing I had been wrong about thinking I wouldn’t be scared of him again.
                  His eyes changed instantly, as he laughed and stepped back from me. “Fear gives your enemies power, Katarina,” he said sternly with his eyes still dancing, “if you must feel it at least attempt to hide it.”
    “But you said I should fear you,” I mumbled, feeling like two different people rolled into one, part of me relieved at the distance and the other yearning for the closeness again. He really did play an atrocious game.
    “You should,” he agreed quietly, staring into nothingness and leaving me all the more confused. Then his bright eyes snapped back to mine coming out of his momentary stupor. “What means you by project ?” he asked suddenly sincere, as he sat on one of the many tree stumps that surrounded the edge of the forest, resting his elbows on his knees.  I was beginning to wonder if he was bipolar or had some multiple personality disorder, although it was most likely that he just had some twisted sense of humor, clearly amused at putting fear into people.
                  I plopped down in front of him, feeling suddenly tired. “It’s for my school. We are learning about this time period, and we have to present artifacts and information on it.”
                  He lowered an eyebrow. “You are a little old for schooling, are you not?”
                  I laughed. “It’s not like that anymore. Most people go to school until they are in their mid-twenties or if they want they’ll