Page 27 of Visions in Blood
Damn him for taking the joy out of my discovery.
A hand slippedover Devon’s arm and nails scratched along his chest.Her spicy scent floated around him, and he grew hard.He rolled over, gathering her to him, her long legs wrapping around his.Her lips found his, playful and insistent.He returned her inquiry with a stronger one of his own, and her soft moan urged him on.
He ran his hand along her hip, pulling her closer.She arched, exposing her delicate neck.His fangs slipped down, and he traced them along the length of the sensitive skin, the vein pulsing with her life force.
“Devon.”Cressa’s voice was almost pleading.
He pulled back to gaze down at her.Her eyes were warm pools of desire, but not demanding, not aggressive, not like before.This was his Cressa.
He released her and backed off the bed, rubbing his face, and turning away from her.He would not take advantage of her in a dream.
“Devon, what’s wrong?”
He almost laughed.He’d lost track of all the reasons this was wrong—the mission, her debt to him, the dreams, what she was, the questions about her father and the necklace.She hadn’t even learned of Lyra yet.
“Why can’t you look at me?”
Her voice implored him for an answer.He turned and wished to hell he hadn’t.She was on her knees, the sheet wrapped around her waist, her head tilted to one side.Her brows had knit together as she searched his face.Her breasts teased him, as if he wasn’t aware of each sensitive spot he’d explored before.Yet, this was the first dream where they’d been naked—fully exposed.
They had to get to the bottom of these dreams before it jeopardized the mission.
“You weren’t dreaming about the Magic Poppy again, were you?”
What?
His head jerked up.How did she know about that?He would have remembered telling her.
“That’s all behind you.Behind us.”She inched toward the edge of the bed, one hand outstretched, fingers curling in a coaxing plea to return to her.
He must have told her about the Poppy earlier in the dream, and they’d argued.That must be what she meant.
“Oh, Devon.”She stepped off the bed, the sheet falling away to reveal her entire body.
His breath caught in his throat.Even from this distance he caught her spicy scent, and it weakened his resolve to not touch her.
She moved to him and placed a palm on his cheek.“You know no one blames you for that.Lorenzo will get what’s coming to him.It’s just a matter of time and patience.Our plan is on track.The trap is closing.You need to let the past go.”
Confusion clouded his thoughts.What did Lorenzo have to do with Magic Poppy?Was this a prescient dream or just a fantasy?Up to now, the dreams had been a glimpse into the future.Either a real future or one possibility.The dream before the ball had turned out to be real enough, but none of the others had come true, or perhaps those events simply hadn’t happened yet.He shook his head.This was getting confusing.
Her hand slid from his face to his shoulder.She’d gotten closer without him being aware of it.Her lips brushed his, her tongue tracing his lips, and he couldn’t stop himself.His arm snaked around her, and he kissed her as he pulled her closer.
The touch of her bare skin, the heat of her breasts pressed against his chest, it was all so familiar.They’d danced this tango before, and he groaned as she ran a hand down his chest, nails sliding over his stomach before she reached for…
He pushed her back.
Icy air raked him, and she was ripped away, leaving him to stare at the ceiling.He was back in his room at the mansion, alone in bed.He focused on the dream and confirmed the bedroom had been his master suite at Oasis.Not a single intimate dream had been in this house, but if that meant something, he couldn’t put the pieces together.
Now that he was awake and his head had cleared, no doubt remained that Cressa shouldn’t have known anything about Magic Poppy, let alone his addiction to it.An addiction that had almost caused the death of his House.His own personal demon he’d wrestled with and overcame decades ago.
What had triggered her dream?He almost laughed.
Their argument.And she’d been too stubborn to take the potion that would have blocked her dreams.He doubted she did it on purpose.With her necklace safely locked up, she probably didn’t even think about the herbal remedy.
He should document each of the dreams while he still remembered them.Something in her subconscious must be directing them, and maybe something linked them all together that wasn’t apparent on the surface.Then again, they might not be connected at all.Each dream might be related to something else entirely, and her deep emotions were simply a trigger.
The catalyst for tonight’s dream had to have been her excitement over whatever she thought she’d found in theHouses of Vampire.Had she stumbled onto something that had evaded him all these decades?He’d read that tome dozens of times.Maybe he’d gotten too close, and he needed another set of eyes.His first instinct had been to yell at her.He was such a fool.These midnight dances between them—what drew them together?
He checked the clock.Another hour before dawn.Cook would be up, but the rest of the house would still be asleep.He dressed quickly then jogged down the steps to the library, releasing a breath when he found the heavy tome where he’d left it after Cressa had stormed out.He grabbed it and locked himself in his office before making his first cup of espresso.
