As the woman's face lingered just inches from his face, Brandon felt the ghost of her breath warm against his skin.
She tilted her head ever so slightly and just as she was about to kiss him again, her gaze sharpened.
Her hands loosened their grip on him, and for a heartbeat, Brandon thought she was simply teasing.
Then the air around him thickened and his muscles locked as his lungs refused to draw in the next breath.
Even the faint ether-laced breeze that had been tugging at his hair ceased.
Brandon's eyes darted, but he could do nothing else.
His thoughts scattered like leaves in a breeze, yet his body remained rooted in place, struck in time.
A soft, almost disappointed sigh slipped past the woman's lips "Did you finally find your way out of that little church of yours?"
Her attention drifted past him, and her gaze locked onto something in the distance.
Above the distorted rupture, a white butterfly fluttered lazily, its delicate wings leaving faint trails of light.
