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As my eyes adjust to the dim light, only the silver-white moonlight filtering through the long white sheer curtains on the windows, I see she’s laying back down. Eyes closing again as her chest rises and falls in rapid breaths, the sheet and comforter tangled around her waist as I move toward the bed, swallowing hard, trying to calm my racing pulse.
The realization that I’m actually here, in her room, hits me like a punch to the gut.
I stop just a few feet from the side of the massive mahogany bed, my hand over my mouth, trying to keep from breathing too loudly, my dick pressing so hard on the zipper of my pants it will probably have a zigzag pattern permanently imprinted into the shaft.
She’s curled on her side, half in slumber, but I can tell from the way her body twitches and she breathes unevenly, she’s still spooked. She looks so small. I inhale above her, drawing in her scent, my blood scorching through my veins.
Her eyes flutter closed, she seems to calm, a soft moan seeps from her lips and she rolls her head back on the pillow, her face relaxing.
I tell myself it’s because of me. She can sense me and knows I would never let anything harm her, not ever. The silver moonlight dances over her curves and I know I shouldn’t be here. It’s probably a crime. But I’d commit all sorts of heinous acts if it meant getting close to her.
Another moan and it makes me angry. Her moans belong to me, not whoever she’s dreaming about.
Unless of course, it is me.
Chapter 7
Delia
The safe, warm blanket of protection covers me, wiping away nearly every speck of the nightmare. I was stuck in a tunnel of some kind, there were four or five shadowy figures there, following me, and I needed to run, but it was so dark.
Too dark to know which way to turn.
Then, I felt someone else there.
Cold overtook me. My breath stolen from my lungs as pressure engulfed me, the tunnel closing in. I was trying to flail, to will my feet to move, but I was stuck. There was no air, I couldn’t move, I tried to scream over and over but the harder I tried, the more desperate the fear clutched around me until I felt myself being crushed by the darkness.
I did what I always do when my waking dreams paralyze me. I used sheer will to just wiggle my toes. Then my foot. Then my ankle. Suffocating, I used all my power to try to shake myself from a dream that wouldn’t let me go.
Tonight, it took longer than usual. The dream was more real than any I remember. When I woke up, I was sitting up in the darkness on my bed, screaming into the black room, the chill in the air circling in a soft breeze around me even though the window and door were secured shut.
I can’t do this.
I touch the wrist band, fingering the button and count to ten.
Do I care about winning? Yes.
And no.
Do I care that my fears would be the reason I couldn’t win?
Yes. A thousand times yes.
My pulse starts to slow. I’m not giving up.
It’s not really about the house or the money for me. Well, not completely. It’s about me and these stupid nightmares that have plagued me for too long. If I ever want to find the jumping-off point to my own life, I feel like I have to conquer whatever this inner fear is, and what better place than a haunted house on Halloween?
I curl back into the bed closing my eyes. The sheets still tangled from my nightmarish thrashing, but something immediately soothes me, and my breathing slows. That masculine, sexy scent from the ballroom returns, only this time it’s more intense. More real. I sigh, a warmth taking me back to the realm of sleep, this time feeling protected.
But, soon, that warm protection turns into something else. A flickering dream takes hold, the prickle on my skin is like someone touching me but I’m not scared. In my mind, the face of the man from the portrait comes alive and I feel like I know him. I trust him.
I want him.
A moan escapes my throat as I press my head into the pillow, letting this new magical dream take root. I don’t know what is happening, but I want to step farther into it and let this feeling grow and sweep me away.
In my half-wake, half-dream, the fear is gone, but an exhilaration moves into its place. The scent swirls in the air, the chill replaced by a warmth that blushes my cheeks and makes my nipples tighten.
What is happening?
I shiver against the warmth, the trickle of fear returning, but this time it doesn’t take hold like it usually does. It’s more a thrill than a panic and my breathing picks up, the feeling of being watched, like in the ballroom and the dining room, returns.
