Celeste had been dreaming of Bryn since she was eight: the flash of light across the sky, Bryn running, the explosion that nothing human should have survived, and then Bryn climbing out of the smoking crater and looking right at her. He was beautiful: six feet tall with muscles like coiled steel and dark blue eyes. His hair was black and his body was chiseled out of marble, like a Greek God.
For years she had thought he was nothing but a dream. But slowly the dream changed, and it seemed that he was trying to reach her. His arm stretched out as if to touch her.
And then she saw him, burning under the light of dawn. His skin was flame as their eyes met. Celeste’s heart sped up and she gasped. Bryn had found her.