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The dark was a comforting blanket to me, and I let myself collapse backwards onto my unmade bed. The cotton was a cool embrace against the heavy heat that had begun creeping into the summer nights. I sighe
d, and my breath was hot on my lips as I exhaled. Dawn was still an hour away, but I found myself unusually tired. The chase through the woods and the sudden disappearance of the mystery wolf left me dumbfounded and cranky. Plus, chasing anything without catching it was always frustrating.
I stared at the low ceiling, imagining what might bring a lone wolf into my territory, and what motivation led him to be in Elmwood of all places. I chided myself for letting my guard down and not paying better attention during my evening runs for the telltale signs and smells of a new wolf. I shouldn’t have relaxed my constant wariness for a second, but being back in Elmwood had caused me to take my safety for granted.
If this wolf was one of the dissenting pack formed under Marcus Sullivan, the wolf I dispatched to an early grave three months earlier, they might be here to do me harm. Meaning Grandmere and the whole town could become collateral damage in a war that had nothing to do with them. As far as I was concerned, the war was over. Lucas’s position as king was secure, which I’d guaranteed by killing Marcus.
I fell asleep to the nagging thought of how many times I’d been wrong about these things before.
I hadn’t dreamed since the night I’d almost died. My daytime sleep usually passed in a comatose stupor, the near-death state of dozing vampires. On the few rare occasions I’d had dreams in the past, there’d been an overtone of premonition to them. Which isn’t to say I’m psychic, I sure as hell am not, but when I do dream, it’s for a reason.
It had once saved my life.
Because I dreamed so infrequently, and because my dreams were so lucid, I often had difficulty differentiating my dreams from reality. Unless, of course, my dream involved a wedding dress. That was always a dead giveaway to it not being real.
However, in the dream I found myself in that night, I wasn’t wearing anything at all.
The first thing that caught my attention, aside from my missing clothing, was the presence of satin sheets. The departure from my familiar cotton bedding was noteworthy.
I splayed my hand out, palm down, and felt the smooth, almost-liquid texture of the sheets. I burrowed my face into the pillow and let out a contented sigh. I could handle dreams about fine bedroom decor.
Then my wandering hand met up with skin that was most definitely not my own. I sucked in a breath and held it. Nothing here smelled like either of my men. There was no taste in my mouth, and nothing triggered the alarm of wolf in my brain. So, who…
Tentatively, I turned my head and opened one eye. I let my gaze follow my arm down to my hand, where it rested on the pale curve of someone’s lower back. Pale. So, so pale. Their skin was as white as mine, and mine had never seen the light of day.
I opened both my eyes, and the pair looking back at me was not blue like Lucas’s or gray like Desmond’s. These eyes were a brown so dark they were almost black, and the instant recognition made my heart seize. My hand spasmed on his back.
“Holden. ”
He rolled onto his side, propped up on an elbow and took an assessing inventory of my body, which was lying fully exposed on top of the sheets. I let him look, unencumbered by the shy morality of humankind. I was more interested in why he was sharing my dream than why he was checking me out.
“So you can’t look at me naked in real life, but in a dream it’s okay?” I asked, recalling all the times he’d come into my home and imposed an outdated sense of modesty on me.
“It’s your dream. ”
I made a dismissive grunt and sat up so he was no longer looking down on me.
“Don’t be coy with me, Holden, not now. ”
The vampire gave a sad smile, letting the barest trace of emotion say all the things he could not allow himself to utter out loud. He reached out and brushed a curl from my face.
“Why do they want me to kill you? Why you?” I implored.
For a long time he did not reply, twisting a yellow-gold ringlet of my hair around his finger. I took a mental inventory of his appearance and longed for his returned presence in my life.
He looked tired, which was an impressive feat for a vampire, and his skin was almost translucent in places, which told me he wasn’t eating enough. His hair was getting longer, some of the natural curl showing through. It had grown past his ears and now flirted with the base of his neck.
Holden was always vigilant about his appearance. He’d once been an editor-at-large for GQ, and I had never seen him look anything less than perfect. He considered his appearance a point of pride, and his pride ran deep.
Mirroring his gesture, I reached out and ran my fingers through his hair, surprised by how soft it was. I trailed my hand from his hair to his cheek, his cheek to his mouth. His gaze didn’t leave mine, even as my thumb pressed down on his lower lip. I pressed more insistently, and he let his mouth fall open. His fangs were exposed.
I shivered when his tongue flicked against the pad of my thumb.
“You won’t kill me,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I have to. ” I began to withdraw my hand, but he caught my wrist.
“You. Won’t. Kill. Me. ”
