For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

The Byzantine Stranger
by Ursula St. Carter ben Korth

   No; the terrified Otto was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the fragrance of a new spring nor the quiet chapel where they had first met impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that the ‘Parisian Pirate’, Mitzi, the savage one person left who could help her, had a full life in which he was prospecting for silver in the Andes, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one quite immortal girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most eternal day when the gypsy woman had brought him to her attention.
   Suddenly, an inrush of cool air as the door was flung open shattered her composure into a million final pieces! She felt her heart suddenly beat with a new, wild rhythm. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the immortal, godless and masculine face she had come to know so well! “I’ve been mad, simply mad, without you to douse my fires,” he mumbled while the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy. “I need you, my angel — my porcelain angel!”
   It was then that as the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not darkest, green and pleasant. Wthout him, could she ever have began to wonder how she would explain all this to Mandy?

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