She let out a hoarse cry as he sank his fangs into her throat and drank. And drank...
Bryn woke with a cry, her gaze darting around the room. “A dream,” she murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. “Just a dream.”
Conor called her as soon as the sun went down. Bryn stared at her phone, the memory of her dream fresh in her mind. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, it was just her imagination. Chiding herself for being such a ninny, she picked up the phone. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he said. “All right if I come over?”
Again, she hesitated.
“Bryn?”
“Sure.” She had to see him again, to assure herself that he wasn’t the monster in her nightmare.
“Have you had dinner?”
“Yes. See you when you get here.”
She had expected him to arrive in moments, but it was half an hour later when he knocked on the door. Her heart leaped when she saw him standing there, as handsome as ever, his midnight-blue eyes smiling at her as he handed her a bakery box.
“What’s this?”
“I thought you might like some dessert.”
“That was so sweet of you,” she said. Especially when he couldn’t eat it. Carrying the box into the kitchen, she set it on the counter and lifted the lid. “Lemon meringue,” she said. “My favorite. How did you know?”
He shrugged.
Her gaze met his. “You read my mind again, didn’t you?”
“Guilty as charged. How else would I know what you liked?”
“You could have asked.”
He didn’t miss the sharpness of her tone. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He sounded so contrite, she smiled as she closed the box. “I’ll have some later,” she said, putting the pie in the fridge.
Conor followed her into the living room and sat beside her on the sofa. He’d just promised not to read her mind, but he knew something was troubling her. He could smell her distress. But a promise was a promise. “How was your day?”
“Quiet. I called my mom and dad and my sister. Read a little. Thought about you. Do you still feel like you?”
“Yes. And no. But I’d rather talk about you. About us. Bryn, say you’ll be mine and I’ll spend my whole life making you happy.”
“Your whole life.” She eased out of his embrace. “Your father has lived for a thousand years. You could live that long, too. But I’ll get old. And wrinkled. And sick. And you’ll always be strong and healthy and twenty-five. How will you feel when I look like your mother and then your grandmother? How will I feel?”
Shit. He had no answer for that except the obvious one.
She didn’t have to read his mind to know what his solution was. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”
“You might feel differently later. Why grow old if you don’t have to? My blood can–”
“Yes, your father told me about that.” She shuddered at the thought of drinking his blood.
“You might like it.”
She glared at him. “Stop reading my mind!”
“Sorry.” He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “Want to try it?”
