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“That’s not true. You know I sing. That I make deals with cat shapeshifters. That I smell like violets. That I can be an asshole sometimes.” He dips his head toward my neck. “That I fucking love the way you smell.” He traces his nose along the arch of my neck, his lips skimming my flesh.
A hummingbird soars inside my chest, confirming the magical winged drink still potently consumes my body and mind. Maybe that’s why I admit, “I like the way you smell, too.”
“Yeah?” he whispers then sucks on my neck.
I nod, my eyelids closing as I arch my neck. He sucks harder, making my toes curl and the strangest pulling sensation tugs at my teeth. The feeling is almost painful, but not as much as the urge to bite him is.
“Jules,” I murmur, threading my fingers through his hair. “My mouth feels funny … I think I need to …” Pressure builds in my gums. “I want to bite you.”
He jerks back, his eyes radiating violet. The glow brightens as his gaze centers on my mouth.
“Lake …” He appears torn as he leans back. “I can’t let you do that.”
I prop up onto my elbows. “Why? It’s just a dream.”
“Yeah, but it’s not …” He kneels between my legs. “It means more than you think it does. The biting thing, I mean.”
“I know what it means. Remember? You guys laughed at me at the club when I said you should start biting other werewolves to make them respect you.” I tug on the hem of his shirt, pulling him toward me. “Besides, this is a dream. It doesn’t really mean anything.”
“I know this is a dream,” he whispers, completely enthralled with my mouth. “But you and I are very real in it, and if you bite me here, you could mark me.”
“And what if I do?” I draw him closer, wetting my lips with my tongue.
“You’re killing me,” he groans as I nibble on my lip. “If you do mark me, I could end up becoming your alterum dimidium animae before you’re ready.” He braces his hand on the mattress beside my head. “And besides, you’re drunk on faerie magic. You don’t even know what you’re doing.” He sucks in a shallow breath. “And when you bite me—when we bite each other—I want us to both be sober so I know you want it.”
“I kind of want that, too,” I admit through my drunken stupor.
His chuckle sounds pained. “We’ll see if you still think that when you wake up.”
The final words I uttered to him before I passed out flashes through my mind.
“Wait. Did I tell you something …?” My eyelids lower as sleepiness overtakes me again.
“Shh …” Jules whispers in my ear. “We’ll talk more when you wake up.”
I bob my head up and down before I plummet away from dreamland and into a nightmare filled with teeth and fangs and claws. And my soul-shattering screams.
CHAPTER18
The instant my eyes open again, my brain begins throbbing against my skull.
“Oh.” I press the heel of my hand to my forehead.
My mouth is dry, and I’m sure my breath reeks like ass. My pores feel oozing with sweat, and my stomach muscles ache.
“Worst hangover ever,” I grumble, slowly sitting up. My eyes roll as I blink my vision into focus. “Wait … This isn’t the room I woke up in before.” Puzzlement webs through my brain as my gaze skims the dark blue walls, the matching curtains, the fireplace, and the ebony wooden bed I’m sitting on. The comforter drawn over me smells wonderfully of violet and moonlight.
This is Jules’ room.
I lift the blanket and cringe.What the hell?
“I think I might be wearing Jules’ shirt.”
Even though doing so makes my stomach churn, I pay attention to any achiness that might be residing in my body. When I note no pain—well, besides my brain—relief douses over me. Then again, I really couldn’t see Jules taking advantage of me, especially when he wouldn’t even let me bite him in my dream.
My cheeks warm at the realization that, more than likely, he knows I dreamt of biting him. But that doesn’t explain how I got into his shirt or why I’m in his room.
Huffing out a frustrated sigh, I throw the blankets off me and climb off the bed. My legs wobble as I make my way around his room, reading the book titles on his shelf.
