Page 27 of Bearly Believable Romance

“It was a disaster.” Bram’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile wide and genuine. “We started off strong, but then my brother’s guitar string snapped, and he just kept strumming away like nothing had happened. My sister got so excited that she started shaking her tambourine like a maraca, completely out of rhythm. And me? Well, I was so focused on keeping my pants up that I lost my grip on the drumsticks. They went flying into the audience, nearly taking out poor old Mrs. Henderson from next door.”

Tabitha clutched her sides, gasping for breath between peals of laughter. “Oh my goodness, Bram! That’s hilarious!”

He grinned, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. “But you know what? Despite the chaos, despite the fact that we were probably the worst band in the history of music, we had the time of our lives. We were up there, living our dream, and nothing could take that away from us.”

Tabitha squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with affection. “That’s what matters most, isn’t it? The joy, the laughter, the memories you made together.”

Bram nodded, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. “Exactly. Okay, your turn. Tell me a story from your childhood.”

Tabitha hesitated, her gaze dropping to their intertwined fingers. “Oh, I don’t know. My childhood was pretty boring compared to yours. I don’t think I have any stories worth telling.”

Bram’s fingers tightened around hers, his eyes soft with understanding. “Tabitha, I want to hear everything about you. Every detail, every moment, no matter how small or insignificant you think it might be. You’re important to me, and I want to know all of you.”

She took a deep breath, a slow smile curling her lips. “Well, there was this one time when I tried to make a love potion for my crush in third grade...”

As she spoke, the words flowing more freely with each passing moment, Tabitha found herself lost in the memories of her past. She told Bram about her disastrous attempts at magic as a child, her voice light with laughter and her eyes bright with nostalgia.

Throughout her stories, Bram listened intently, his gaze never wavering from her face. He chuckled at her mishaps, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand. “You know, I think I would have had a crush on you in third grade,” he said, his voice teasing. “A cute little witch with a penchant for trouble? Irresistible.”

Tabitha laughed, her heart skipping a beat at the playful glint in his eyes. “Oh, really? And what makes you think I would have given you the time of day?”

Bram leaned in, his face mere inches from hers. “Because I would have done everything in my power to make you smile, just like I’m doing now.”

Her breath caught, her pulse racing at his proximity. “Well, Mr. Hartley, I must say your efforts are paying off.”

He grinned, his lips brushing against her cheek in a featherlight kiss. “Good. Because I plan on spending a lot of time making you smile.”

The darkness was a living, sentient thing, writhing and pulsing with malice. It enveloped Tabitha in a suffocating cocoon, pressing in on her from all sides until she couldn’t tell up from down, reality from nightmare. Wispy black tendrils, cold as the grave and twice as strong, snaked around her throat, constricting like a vise.

Tabitha thrashed wildly, legs kicking and arms flailing as she fought to break free. Her lungs burned, starved for oxygen, and her heart raced like a trapped hummingbird behind her ribs. She reached for her magic, that familiar well of power that always surged to her defense... but it slipped through her grasp, sputtering weakly.

The shadows seemed to sense her desperation, her mounting terror. They tightened their hold, digging into soft flesh, bruising and cruel. Tabitha’s vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges like macabre fireflies. A scream built in her aching chest, but she couldn’t give it voice, couldn’t draw breath to make a sound.

Suddenly, laughter rang out through the oppressive darkness - a sinister, mocking cackle that froze the blood in Tabitha’s veins. It echoed in the void, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, a disembodied voice dripping with malevolent glee.

“Poor little witch, all alone in the dark,” it crooned, falsely sympathetic. “Did you really think you could escape me so easily?”

Tabitha’s heart stuttered, fear clawing up her spine with icy talons. She knew that voice, had heard it taunting her in the waking world. The rogue mage – the one who had attacked her on the road and left her broken and bleeding. But this was impossible. How could this person be here, invading her dreams?

“You underestimated me,” the mage hissed, answering her unspoken question. “Thought you were safe behind your flimsy little wards. But the mind is my playground, and yours is ripe for the taking.”

Incorporeal fingers brushed against Tabitha’s temple, a mocking caress. She flinched violently, trying to twist away, but the shadows held her fast.

“The power is wasted on you.” The whisper slithered through her mind, insidious and vile. “Once I break you, it will be mine. It belongs to me.”

Dread settled like a leaden weight in Tabitha’s gut. She knew she should fight, should rage against this violation... but her strength was fading, siphoned away by the relentless crush of darkness. Her muscles went slack as the shadows forced themselves down her throat, invaded her nose, her ears, burrowing into her very being.

Distantly, she was aware of her physical body contorting on the bed, back arching grotesquely as phantom hands squeezed her neck. Choked, garbled cries escaped her bluing lips. But in the nightmare realm, she was paralyzed, helpless, succumbing to the rogue mage’s sadistic whims.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, carving scorching trails down her ashen cheeks. A wretched, broken cry built in the back of her ravaged throat. This was how she would die - alone, defiled, powerless. Everything she was, everything she’d ever been, unraveled and consumed by ravenous shadow.

And then like a lighthouse beam cutting through impenetrable fog... a voice. Bram’s voice, distant but insistent, laced with panic and desperation.

“Tabitha! Tabby, wake up! Come on, love, breathe for me!”

A lifeline, thrown into the abyss. A tether back to herself, to the waking world. Tabitha latched onto the sound of her lover’s pleas, letting them fill her, bolstering her flagging will. Bram was out there, fighting for her, calling her home. She couldn’t let the darkness win, couldn’t abandon him to grief and pain.

With a titanic burst of effort, Tabitha wrenched her magic up from the depths of her soul, letting it explode outward in a blinding nova of emerald light. The shadows recoiled with an enraged shriek, the grip loosening just a fraction. It was enough.

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