Waking Sebastian by Melinda Barron Page B

beating.
    His eyes were closed, a peaceful expression on his face. His hair hung down over the altar, hitting the ground. She picked a piece of it up and twirled it in her fingers. “Soon, my love. We have to believe it will work.” She gasped softly and focused her gaze on his face. She could swear his eyes fluttered when she talked.
    Could he hear her? Was he really somewhere deep inside there, languishing, worrying as much as she was that their bid to free him would be unsuccessful?
    “It will work,” she whispered into his ear. “I love you.” This time it was unmistakable. His eyelids fluttered, as if he was in
REM
sleep. Could he see her here, beside him? Or was he reliving the wonderful times they’d joined together in their dreams?
    The room grew warmer, and Michelle realized for the first time the ladies behind her were chanting softly. She turned to see them in a circle, their hands joined together, head bowed. When Marta’s soft, “Now, Michelle,” sounded in her head, Michelle didn’t hesitate.
    She lowered her lips to Sebastian’s, stopping just before they joined. “Wake for me, my prince.”
    And then she kissed him, moving her lips gently around his, nibbling on his lower lip, never breaking contact. His chest rose and fell more quickly as the chanting increased and she pushed down more, sliding her tongue into his warm, moist mouth. His hand moved, coming up to cup her neck, pulling her closer to him.
    “Michelle.” And then suddenly, his hand dropped back to the stone, falling as if it were lifeless.
    “No!” She turned to Marta. “Do something!”
    “Kiss him again,” Sierra yelled as they tightened the circle.
    Michelle climbed onto the altar, straddling Sebastian’s body and claiming his lips again. She kissed him deeper, and yet his hand still didn’t move. After a few moments, she reared back, lifting her face to the ceiling of the face much as Sebastian had lifted his to the sun during her dream.
    “Damn you, Tarsa! Let him go. I love him!”
    The ground shook and Michelle grasped the edges of the altar to keep from tumbling to the ground. She gasped as the form of a tiny black woman materialized in front of her. The three women who had been chanting stopped and the cave grew eerily silent.
    Michelle knew who this was. The voodoo priestess eyed her, then looked down to where Sebastian lay.
    “Please,” she whispered. “I love him and he loves me. Surely you’ve seen that.”
    The woman frowned, and then the edges of her mouth drew up into a smile. She turned her gaze to the bochio . It vibrated, and then burst into pieces, splinters of wood scattering through the air and down to the floor of the cave.
    Below her Sebastian gasped, his body arching up into hers. His eyes flew open and he clasped her hips tightly. For several long seconds, he labored for breath, and then looked into her eyes, his chest still heaving.
    “Michelle?”
    “Yes.” She held her breath, afraid that in waking life he would not be as pleased with her as he had been in his dreams.
    When he clasped her face in his hands and claimed her lips tears filled her eyes. He kissed her deeply, holding her close to him as he seemed to steal her breath. When he came up for air, he pulled her forehead down to his own and whispered, “I love you.”
    “I love you, too.” She tried to stand, but he held her close, moving them both until he was in a sitting position. He stroked her back, then glanced over at the group of three, who were looking over his shoulder to where Tarsa stood.
    He glanced back at the voodoo priestess and Michelle was afraid he would be angry, scream at her or push Michelle off and attack the woman. Instead he inclined his head and said, “Thank you.”
    Tarsa bowed deeply, then she disappeared.
    “You’re free to go now,” Marta said. “Go into the sunlight.”
    Michelle stood and offered Sebastian her hand. He took it carefully, moving slowly as he swung his legs over the table.