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I think if I’d been a normal woman, he would have suggested some kind of a sleep aid or sedative. God knows I would have loved something to conk me out and keep the nightmares away. But being a whackadoodle supernatural hybrid had just as many drawbacks as it did benefits. One of the biggest was a heightened metabolism for narcotic substances. I used to think it was great, because it meant I never got hangovers when I drank. Now, though, I’d have willingly traded it in if it meant a good night’s sleep with the help of some Ambien.
Besides, if there had been anything I could take, I’d have figured it out by now. Between having a witch for a grandmother and a slew of otherworldly creatures lurking on the sidelines of my life, we’d tried every spell, potion and charm out there. All to no avail.
The nightmares were a part of me now.
“Did you—?”
I cut him off. “Yeah, it’s on the dresser.”
The gun routine got old for Desmond a lot faster than the restless sleeping did. He managed to ignore it for a while, but then came the day he couldn’t wake me when I held the armed weapon on him…
He had good reason to sleep on a different schedule, and it was hard for me to begrudge him for respecting his personal safety. I’d love to say I wouldn’t hurt him, but there were nights I woke up with my chest scratched bloody by my own hands. If I couldn’t keep from injuring myself, I didn’t know what I’d do to someone else.
I might pull the trigger.
I wouldn’t want to, I wouldn’t mean to, but in the depths of those dreams the only thing I wanted was a way out.
But it was either I sleep with the gun, or never sleep again.
“Do you want to sleep?” I asked.
“Nah, I had a nap when I got back from the office. You think you’re up for it tonight?”
God, if only he were talking about sex.
Putting on my best smile, I mustered up some enthusiasm. I did want to go out—I was getting a little stir-crazy in the suite, and some fresh night air would do me a world of good. “Yeah. Let me get changed.” I got to my feet, but before I could leave he grabbed my wrist.
I flinched.
“Secret…”
Instead of recoiling—which was my typical response these days—I let him hold me, twining his fingers through mine.
“I’m sorry.” I thought I’d been getting better about that, but apparently the involuntary reaction to shut down was still as bad as before.
“Just come here.” He tugged me, and I yielded, straddling his legs and bracing my free hand against his chest. Desmond held our mingled fingers to his lips and kissed them. “We don’t have to go.”
“I want to.”
“I don’t know if it’s good for you.”
I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes, breathing in his scent and briefly basking in his warmth. “I’m fine, I promise. It was just a dream.”
He released my hand but moved to cup my face instead. The kiss he laid on my lips was so gentle I almost didn’t feel it until he was already pulling back. There had been a time after my captivity I couldn’t handle even a kiss like that, but I was getting better. I wasn’t fixed by any means, but I was making slow inroads. He let his hands fall to my thighs, giving them a light, comforting squeeze. I returned his peck with one of my own.
“Go get ready. Don’t forget the gun.” His tone had a sarcastic edge, and I knew he was teasing me, trying to keep the mood light.
I never forgot the gun anymore.
Chapter Two
City of Love.
The tourist industry for Paris slapped that phrase on everything. City of Love, City of Light. It was the kind of place I should have wanted to share with my tall, gorgeous, werewolf boyfriend. We should have been taking walks hand in hand by the Seine River with like…baguettes and berets or something.
Instead we were chasing ghosts.
Not literal ghosts, though Paris had its fair share of those. We were trailing a specter from my past, and in this case all roads led to Pari
