‘Ceremony?’ I instinctively stepped back. ‘What ceremony?’
Sacrificing a virgin? Not in this lifetime. Bride of Dracula? Dinner for the coven? Whatever it is, count me out.
‘A ritual of protection. You have been taken by the darkest spirit I have ever encountered. I can feel his presence even now.’
‘Ritual of protection? Wait a minute – how do you know who kidnapped me? Did you have something to do with it? What do you know about my ending up in a graveyard?’
He held up a graceful hand, palm out. ‘I had nothing to do with your abduction, but as soon as I awakened this evening I reconnected with your mind, read your memories and discovered what had happened. You are in great danger, and I must protect you.’
I was torn between being frightened by what he was saying and annoyed by his bossiness.
‘You know, this is sounding more and more like something from a horror movie, and I don’t think I want to play. I want you to call me a cab so I can go home.’
I rushed towards the door and he was suddenly there, standing in front of me, blocking my path.
He placed a finger under my chin and lifted my face up so that we locked eyes, his expression very serious. ‘I should have been more forthcoming with you from the beginning. I should have anticipated your need to understand and analyse everything. I did not wish to frighten you away by acting too quickly, but I see now that I have blundered. Please allow me the opportunity to make it up to you.’
He bent down and pressed his lips against mine in a sweet kiss and I took the first exit to Euphoria. Again. I reached up and held his face in both my hands and pressed my body against his, deepening the kiss.
First I punch him, then I kiss him. I’ve given new meaning to the words ‘mood swing’.
We stood melded together for not nearly long enough. I let my hands slide down his face, then stepped back. It took me a couple of tries to find my voice.
‘What is it you should’ve told me?’
‘This might take some time.’ He reached for my hand. ‘It is better to be comfortable.’
Hmmm. The vampire version of ‘Let’s get in the backseat’?
He led me over to the bed, gathered up all the dresses and draped them across the back of a throne-like chair. He crawled onto the bed – which was itself a very arousing thing to watch – sat against the headboard and patted the space next to him, inviting me to join him. I did.
I had a brief thought about what it meant that I was in bed with another man after spending the afternoon in a very intimate encounter with Alan. Was I now being unfaithful to Alan even though we’d made no promises to each other? We hadn’t pretended our sexual attraction had any future implications. Or had I been unfaithful to Devereux? For some reason, that concept felt more troubling.
Wait a minute! Am I channelling a soap opera or something? I barely know either of them and I haven’t made any commitments to anyone. I’m a free agent and can do as I please. A curse on all those old Sandra Dee movies my mother used to make me sit through! Any minute now I’m going to get up and go home.
I immediately became distracted by the fact that the bed felt so soft and welcoming and I was half-tempted to close my eyes and drift away. I forced myself to open my eyes very wide and concentrate on the painting of Devereux’s mother that was visible from my vantage point.
She was so beautiful. Almost as beautiful as her son. I think her eyes were slightly more greenish-blue and his more bluish-green. Or maybe not. They resembled each other strongly, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what made Devereux so masculine – perhaps his jaw was slightly stronger than hers, or his cheekbones more defined – but whatever it was, I couldn’t ignore his pure maleness. Dangerous male. Yummy male.
I giggled, of all things.
‘Kismet?’
‘What?’ I realised my mouth was hanging open and my eyelids were at half-mast.
‘You are clearly more exhausted than I thought. Perhaps you should lie down and rest for a while.’
‘No, really, I’m fine. Just let me catch my second wind.’ I blinked my eyes several times and sat up straighter, then turned to him. ‘Or coffee, maybe. Yeah, that’ll do it.’
He crawled down to my feet, grasped my ankles, and tugged on them gently until he’d pulled me into a prone position with my head on the pillow.
‘Hey, I don’t want to lie down. I don’t want to—’
Sleep must have ambushed me, because that’s the last thing I remember.
Until the dream.
CHAPTER 16
I’m walking through a run-down old abandoned house. The darkness is relieved only by the full moon shining through the large broken windows. There’s an unpleasant musty smell masking something metallic – sweet – something familiar I can’t identify.
I hear a child crying somewhere in the house and I run towards the sound, yelling, ‘Where are you?’ The corridor stretches out ahead of me, extending itself as I stumble along, feeling like I’m wading through tar.
Now the child’s voice pleads, ‘Help me, help me,’ and my feet become heavier with every step. ‘Help me, help me.’ A heart-wrenching cry.
‘Please,’ I scream, ‘tell me where you are. I want to help you.’
My mouth is dry, my heart pounds, and I force myself to keep moving. I open every door along the unending hallway and finally come to a furnished bedroom where a sobbing boy sits on a huge four-poster bed next to a small table where a candle burns. The child reaches out his little arms as if to hug me, and I lean in to embrace him. His arms encircle my neck and he rests his cheek against mine. I rock him gently as he quiets, and then he resumes his chant, ‘Help me, help me, help me . . .’
I ask, ‘How can I help you?’ and he suddenly rears back, exposes long, pointy fangs, and sinks the horrible teeth into my neck. I fight against him, trying to push him off of me, to break his vice-like hold, but he has strength beyond imagining.
Finally I fall back onto the bed, barely breathing, and another voice – a terrible, disgusting voice I’ve heard before – takes up the child’s plea. ‘Help me, help me, help me . . .’I close my eyes, expecting death, and the familiar voice says, ‘Ah, we meet again.’ My dream eyes fly open and I’m no longer lying on the bed in the old house. I’m buried alive in a rotting coffin . . .
‘No! Let me out!’ I screamed, struggling to sit up. My heart raced and my skin felt hot, as if I’d been heated by a fire.
Twin points of pain throbbed on my neck and my lungs ached as I gasped for air. The hideous tones of the voice echoed in my ears and slithered across my skin. The same repulsive voice I’d heard outside The Crypt before my brain shut down. I pushed and fought against the hands holding me as if my life depended on it.
‘Shhh. Kismet, it was only a dream. You are here, safe with me.’
I gasped and forced my eyes open. Devereux was sitting next to me on his bed, holding me down, a concerned expression on his face. I realised I’d been flailing my arms and kicking my legs. My cheeks were wet, and my body trembled.
‘It was only a dream. No one will harm you.’ Devereux pulled me up into a hug, and rocked me as I’d rocked the child in my nightmare.
‘Only a dream. I don’t know what that means any more.’ I didn’t feel normal with my eyes open or closed, and somewhere along the way I’d lost hold of the thread of sanity I’d been clinging to.
I closed my eyes again for a moment and sank into the soothing motion, enjoying being close to Devereux. I burrowed my face into his silky hair, loving the spicy smell of it. I didn’t know what it was about him that felt so right to me, so familiar. In the midst of the madness my life had become, I was almost willing to stop thinking and just trust.