Twist Of Fate: Three Little Miracles

In a jiffy, Mark and his entourage returned back to the military base and as supposed, Mark had a fun dinner with Owens and his fiancé…. And presently it was just 7;23pm and he was to meet his mum at the claves bar by 8pm. He still had about some minutes to spare then something struck him. He realized he had earlier on misread the signatures messages. The time was not Tonight 8pm but rather tomorrow 8pm.

The next thing that flashed through his mind was Diana. Lately he had found himself thinking about Diana more than he had ever done as regards to attraction.

That night, Mark decided to go on a stroll. It was his method of freeing and clearing his mind and seat of thoughts each time he starts thinking alot. He watched as a senior officer commanded other well lined up and organized officer for the evening jugging. Few moments later, they had jugged away singing some ‘Sally song’s” . He suddenly sighted a figure from afar and the way the figure was walking looked disturbing.

He left the patrol field and ran towards the figure he had sighted from afar and it turned out the figure was a lady, neatly dressed on her military gear and is beautiful. Her hands wear placed on her head. It was Diana…

“What happened to you? Why are you here? Mark asked before the woman before her slumped to the ground groaning in so much pain and blood dripping from hear head. She touched her head, rubbing her palm on her silky hair and groaning more in pain, she shut her eyes tightly like someone enduring a deep pain, and of course, she was enduring a deep excruciating pain. Even the dullest person would know something was wrong with Diana.

Mark looked confused. He had never actually administered treatment to a injured fellow and there were no army medical close by.

Mark rushed to her and took her hand off her head, he was stunned to see that a wound she obviously got from the accident six years ago was reopening like someone banged something on it, with a proper scrutinization, he saw something was banged on her head, truly.

“But who could have the guts to attack her in here in the military base?”

In the next one hour….. Diana sat up, shaking her head to clear the grogginess. It took her a moment to remember where she was-in a spare bedroom in the president generals mansion, the only light in the room the illumination that the electrics lamp generated. It was blue light-twilight light. She lay twisted in the blanket; her military trousers, jacket, and shoes were stacked neatly on a chair near the bed. And beside her was Mark, looking down at her, as if she had conjured him up by dreaming of him.

He was sitting on the bed, wearing his gear, as if he had just come from a fight, and his hair was tousled, the dim light from the electric lamp illuminating shadows under his eyes, the hollows of his temples, the bones of his cheeks. In this light he had the extreme and almost unreal beauty of a Modigliani painting, all elongated planes and angles.

She rubbed at her eyes, blinking away unconsciousness. “What time is it?” she said. “How long-”

“3am…. 7-8 hours now.” Mark responded and swallowed a Gump.

Diana clearly remembered what had happened last night. Someone hit her head with a 2 by 2 plank and left her to die. Actually, she was on her way from the military hospital unit when she got attacked by God knows who – ??

Without allowing her to think… Mark suddenly pulled her toward him and kissed her, and for a moment she froze, suddenly very conscious that all she was wearing was a thin T-shirt and underwear. Then she went boneless against him. It was the sort of lingering kiss that turned her insides to water. The sort of kiss that might have made her feel that nothing was wrong, that things were easy, and he was only frightened that she would prolly die. But when his hands went to lift the hem of her T-shirt, she pushed them away.

“No,” she said, her fingers wrapped around his wrists. “You can’t just grab me. You have a fiancee!” Little did Diana know that the fear Mark felt because she probably would die had activated something that was new, in him.

Mark felt stupefied. Ranging from when he singlehandedly carried Diana on his shoulders and ran down to the medical unit where an army medical attended to her and tended to her injury, Mark was afraid to the core. He didn’t know why but something about losing her kept on stimulating his desires.

He took a ragged breath and said, You’re Lucky I met you on time….. By now, you probably would be a dead woman-”

Tears brimmed in Diana’s eyes and she said “Thank you…..”

For a moment there was utter silence.. Then he said, “Let me see the scratches on your arms….”

Diana held out her arms, her head had been plastered and wrapped with gauze to prevent excessive bleeding. There were harsh red splotches on the insides of her wrists where she was wounded. Mark took her wrists, very lightly, looking at her for permission first, and turned them over. She remembered the first time he had touched her, at the bar in Delta City, searching her hands for marks she didn’t have. “mere scratch,” he said. “They’ll go away in a few days time. Do they hurt?”

Diana shook her head….

Both Owens nor Diana didn’t know of anything happening, not even that Mark took Diana to one of the spare rooms in the same mansion they were in as well… They had been sleeping and still sleeping…. Although, Owens had overheard the commotion earlier on, he didn’t wake up from sleep, but Hannah, she was very deep asleep.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

For the second time Mark bent his head and kissed the scratch on Diana’s wrist. A flare of heat coursed through her, like a hot spike that went from her wrist to the pit of her stomach. He kissed the next scratch, on her forearm, and then the next, moving up her arm to her shoulder, the pressure of his body bearing her back until she was lying against the pillows, looking up at him. He propped himself on his elbows so as not to crush her with his weight and looked down at her.

His eyes always darkened when they kissed, as if desire changed their color in some fundamental way. So, the man people thinks is ruthless and cold actually is not cold rather just shows he is.

“Let’s stop this ….. Take me to my abode. I don’t want situation were my children wakes up and don’t find me this morning, please …”

“i will” He ducked his head down, kissed her cheek not minding she had just woken up and injured.

Diana wound her fingers into the sleeve of his T-shirt. She was fighting hard to resist. She couldn’t even completely understood what had gotten all over Mark and herself as well.

He tilted his head to the side. “If we were to get married,” he began, and he must have felt her tense under him, because he smiled. “Don’t panic, I’m not proposing on the spot. I was just wondering how to make you remember that night. Six years ago… I know this scent … You’re the lady from that night!”

“Nothing…. And I’m sorry I don’t remember anything. Maybe I could be the lady.” Hannah said, brushing her fingers across the back of his neck, where the skin was soft, yawning though her head still ached.

They kissed for a long time, until most of the light had bled out of the room and they were just shadows. Mark didn’t move his hands or try to touch her, though, and she sensed he was waiting for permission.

She realized she would have to be the one to take it further, if she wanted to-and she did want to. He’d admitted something was wrong and that it had nothing to do with her. This was progress: positive progress. He ought to be rewarded, right? A little grin crooked the edge of her mouth. Who was she kidding; she wanted more on her own behalf. Because he was Mark, because she had started to love him, because he seemed so familiar, because he was so gorgeous that sometimes she felt the need to poke him in the arm just to make sure he was real.

She did just that.

“Ow,” he said. “What was that for?”

“Take your shirt off,” she whispered. She reached for the hem of it but he was already there, lifting it over his head and tossing it casually to the floor. He shook his hair out, and she almost expected the bright gold strands to scatter sparks in the darkness of the room.

“Sit up,” she said softly. Her heart was pounding. She does not remember usually taking the lead in these sort of situations, but he didn’t seem to mind. He sat up slowly, pulling her up with him, until they were both sitting among the welter of blankets. She crawled into his lap, straddling his hips. Now they were face-to-face. She heard him suck his breath in and he raised his hands, reaching for her shirt, but she pushed them back down again, gently, to his sides, and put her own hands on him instead. She watched her fingers slide over his chest and arms, the swell of his biceps where some black scars twined, She traced her index finger down the line between his pectoral muscles, across his flat washboard stomach. They were both breathing hard when she reached the buckle on his jeans, but he didn’t move, just looked at her with an expression that said: Whatever you want.