There was this dream that Wynne had from time to time. It started out an awful lot like this. With Leathan Collier hurrying her off to some remote corner of the stacks. Only with a lot less hesitating and a lot more blushing. Wynne blushed just recalling it.

It seemed like he hadn't stopped touching her since the moment he took her hand, and Wynne wasn't convinced that this was a good thing. It was hard to concentrate. Hard to think clearly, to be rational. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to put some distance there either. Wynne barely heard the words that Leathan was saying, but she understood, regardless, something of what he was trying to say. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his touch on her cheek.

"Leathan." Her voice felt hoarse in her chest. She tried to look at him, but it was difficult to meet his eye. "I know I wasn't . . . kind. And I'm . . . I'm sorry." She bit her lip, turned her face downward. "It's just . . . it frightens me. I wish it didn't. I keep hearing that it's not supposed to. But it does."

JOEL WATKINS