Page 17 of Visions in Blood
God, I’d missed Ginger.And when I left to face the afternoon with Anna, it wasn’t lost on me that I owed Devon big time for watching out for her.
ChapterSeven
I drew in a slow,deep breath.The scent of roses was almost overwhelming as I plucked a bloom from its stem, a thorn pricking my finger like it had the first time we’d shared a dream.This time I laughed while staring at the small drop of blood pooling at the tip of my finger.Without thinking, I sucked it off, and the lightest taste of something sweet yet dangerous shivered through me.I twirled in a circle, my arms stretched wide as I lifted my face to the sky, the sun warming my cheeks.
I felt so alive.
The desire to race to the grotto conflicted with my eagerness to explore every inch of the garden.To revel in the colors and its heady aromas.I picked at the petals of the crimson blossom in my hand and sniffed the dusky scent of each one, remembering other times and other places, the images fleeting and blurry, never fully materializing.They were shadows racing just out of sight.
The sound of trickling water, what I knew to be a fountain, brought forth other images: running through a mountain meadow, drinking from a stream next to a fawn-colored doe, a cabin in the forest, the smoke from the hearth barely visible in the dim moonlight, the flames lighting the windows and removing the dark gloom of the trees.
When the grotto came into view, he waited for me.
Devon.
His indigo shirt was open to his waist, low enough to show off the delicate shadows and contours of his muscled-chest and the lightest dusting of hair as it disappeared into the ridge of his pants.I loved this shirt.It brought out the richness of his gaze, and the warm glow induced tingles along my skin.
He stood quietly at my approach, almost hesitant.I’d never seen him so uncertain, except for the night of the ball when he held my broken body in his arms, deciding whether to give me his blood.The memory excited me.I wanted to taste him again—his skin, his lips, his blood.
For a moment, the thought terrified me, but the unease evaporated before it fully developed.When I reached him, I laughed.A deep, throaty chuckle that made his eyes glow with need.Without hesitation, I pulled his lips to mine.
This time, I was emphatic, plundering what I hadn’t tasted in years.A pleasure and craving so intense, so demanding, that I ripped the shirt from his shoulders before clutching him to me.My passion careened out of control.
At first, he drew me tight, matching my hunger with his own, his hands claiming my body.But the more I pushed, the more he pulled away.I scratched my nails across his back and down his arms as he tried to step back.He couldn’t leave me.Not now.We were here, and I was desperate to be held, for him to take me to the ground and answer my need.The itch that wouldn’t go away.What I’d waited decades to have fulfilled.
A flash of terror raced through me, and I tried to pull back, confused by the depths of my emotions.I wanted this man in front of me, but his face began to morph into one I didn’t recognize, and I squeezed my eyes shut, shielding me from the stranger.
“Cressa.Take off the necklace.”
Who was Cressa?
My fingers clutched the necklace, refusing the command.I would never relinquish my necklace.Not now, not ever.It was my bridge.
Someone shook me, but I couldn’t see anything but that face I didn’t know—one of love and desire and rage.
A hand stronger than my own tore my fingers away from the necklace.It was ripped from my neck as everything went black.
Devon raceddown the hall with nothing on but his sweatpants.He’d barely remembered to grab them before shouting for Lucas and Sergi.Panic overtook him as he raced to the other end of the hall to Cressa’s room.
Lucas and Sergi raced down the stairs from the third floor as Devon flew past the landing.When he reached the corner room, he tried the knob, but it was locked.He groaned.After two weeks, she still locked the door.He shouldn’t take it personally.It was probably out of habit considering her old neighborhood, but it bothered him for a reason he didn’t have time to ponder.
“Cressa!”He pounded on the door, then stopped to listen.Nothing.“Cressa, please open the door.”
“What is it?”Sergi glanced at Lucas, who shrugged his shoulders.Of course, neither would know what was happening.
“A dream.A really unpleasant one.”He rattled the doorknob again before slamming his fist on the door twice more.“Cressa, please.You need to wake up.”
“I’ll get the key.”Lucas turned toward the stairs.
Devon didn’t wait.He took a step back then dove into the door, using his shoulder to take the brunt of the hit.The frame shattered, and the door, hinges ripped out, fell to the floor with a solid thud on the thick carpet.
He was at her bedside in seconds.She appeared to be asleep, her sable hair haloed across the pillow.The sound of busting wood should have brought her into an immediate defensive stance, or at the very least a hand rubbing her head, griping about the noise waking her, yet she didn’t stir.He glanced at Lucas, who stood on the other side of the bed, his own concern etched across his face.
No help there.He pushed his hands through his hair, remembering how Cressa had run her own through it just moments ago.But had it been Cressa?In so many ways it had been, but another side of her had surfaced.Maybe he didn’t know her well enough, and she’d simply dropped her defenses, yet it hadn’t felt right.It wasn’t the Cressa he’d come to know.
Then he spotted the necklace on the floor.The thin chain was broken.He’d seen her wearing it in the dream, and when she’d become almost savage in her need for him, it had been a simple reflexive reaction to rip it off her.The medallion wasn’t the cool metal he’d expected.It was warm, and something like a spark had run through him before he’d flung it away.How strange to find it on the bedroom floor.
“Do you want me to call a healer?”Sergi’s words broke through his muddled thoughts.
