Page 12 of Monsters of Desire and Nightmares of Passion

Ivy is dreaming about a biker bar. There are several bikers around, looking rough and ready to burn down the world for what’s important to them. I understand that. Ivy sits at the bar on a stool with a beer in front of her. I know she isn’t drinking it. She gave up on alcohol because she claimed it interferes with her meds. The true reason is that she’s afraid drinking will lower her inhibitions, and she’ll see us during her waking hours in our true form. During her dreams, we take the shape of the men she thinks about. We have soft, warm flesh and eyes in unnatural colors like blue and green. I yearn for the moment I can hold her again, as myself, in my true shape, and the moment I see then recognition of that in her eyes. One day she’s going to see me again and say, “Draw, I’ve missed you.”

The way she used to.

Mrez touches my shoulder. He can’t speak. He lost that ability when she forgot about us because he’s not fully formed. He’s still young, fragile, and scared of the human world.

Ivy looks wonderful. Her tight leather pants hug her curves, and her long hair falls over her shoulders like a curtain of darkness. Her body makes my mouth water. I allow the moment and sensation to wash over me. I miss her, miss our long conversations about nothing, and the way she’d lean her head against my chest when we watched the night sky.

“Oh, Ivy,” I whisper under the noise of the crowded bar. That name belongs to her. She picked it without knowing it, but Ivy is her real name. The name the Goddess gave her at birth. The name that still works as a shield for her wonderful soul.

I bit on the soft, human inside of my cheek and walk over to her. “HI, there. Can I buy you the next drink?”

She flashes one of those full smiles. White, pearly teeth shine in the light of the bar. Her almond-shaped eyes glow with the energy of her soul.

“Yes.”

“I’m Draw.” I try to enter in character. I’m a biker picking her up inside a biker bar. It’s her wish. It’s probably one of the books she’s reading. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Ivy.”

She extends her hand and I take it. Her skin is soft. I see her birthmark on her shoulder. I know what it means. My entire body burns to tell her what that sign means. Who I am. To tell her everything. But all I can do is look at her lips and touch her knuckles with my fingers.

I miss touching her. A few days had passed since we managed to slip into her dreams the last time.

I lean closer and whisper into her ear, inhaling her scent.

“Dance with me.”

It's not a request. It’s a command. I’m the alpha and I take what I want.

My hands hold hers, and I pull her close to me. My body burns her. My cock presses painfully against those damn leather trousers I wear in this fantasy of my love. Nothing hurts as much as looking into the eyes of the one you love and not seeing any sign of recognition shining back.

IVY

I know when I’m dreaming. Everything has a shinier quality than normal life has. And let’s be honest. When am I ever inside a biker bar? The pill I took should have prevented this, but my body needs this more than my mind can explain.

I sit at the bar, order a beer, and wait. I know the monsters will come. They never look the same way in my dreams, but I can feel the darkness exuding from them.

He walks toward me.

He looks like a damn God.

Tall.

Dark.

Handsome.

He says his name is Draw. I know that name, but my mind and body are too distracted by his looks. This man is mouth-watering hot. He stands at a height of at least six feet five inches, his frame is covered in strong muscles, and he has the type of thick arms that could bend a horseshoe, then bend it back and make it straight again. His blue shirt matches the color of his summer sky blue eyes. His tattoos cover thick arms. The goth-inspired motives that decorate his neck make me want to trace them one by one, study every detail of the elegant black ink. His beard doesn’t cover the beauty of those full, delightful lips I want to kiss.

Electricity flows through the air. It sparkles when he was close to me.

“Dance with me.”

His words resonate with every one of my cells, and they want to answer him. My body wants to be as close as possible to his. I hunger for his touch. I want those big hands on my skin, feeling me.

What else is big about this sexy man?

I place my open palm on his chest. There’s no heartbeat.

---