Page 67 of Obsessed in Blood
“I think the juice is still working its magic.”
“And that will help with your mental fatigue, but your body needs fuel, which in turn feeds your brain.” He steered us down the hall toward the back of the house. “You can rest afterward.”
He took my hand and led me down a second hallway to the servant’s staircase. When we passed the third floor and kept going up, I recognized where he was taking me—the widow’s walk.
Perfect.
A fuzzy sun greeted us, and the cool sea breeze washed over me, cleansing the strain from the last couple of hours and recharging me. We stood next to each other for several minutes, our arms brushing, before he stepped away. I stayed a minute longer until I heard the clank of dishes.
I turned toward the sitting area where a tray of lidded plates, a coffee urn, and two mugs waited. “When did you have time to do this?”
“I can’t take credit for it. All it took was a brief call to Cook.” He lifted the lids to reveal blueberry scones, bite-sized quiche, and bacon.
He sat and filled the mugs while I put plates together.
“Come sit with me.” He tugged me to him, but it felt awkward holding my breakfast plate and a mug of coffee. “Let me hold your coffee.” When I hesitated, his lips turned into a boyish pout. I didn’t know he could do that, and my stomach did a flip. He was too damned cute. “I could use some personal touch right now.”
Ah, hell.
I handed him the mug, then slowly slid onto his lap, keeping the plate steady as he wrapped an arm around my waist. Once I was settled, I set the plate on my lap and took back my mug. I snuggled against him, tore off a piece of scone, and moaned as the blueberries squished in my mouth.
We ate in silence. The warmth of his body was a perfect balance to the cooling temperature. Once we’d eaten most of the food and were on our second mug, he pulled me tighter.
“Was it bad?”
It took me a moment to consider his question. “I’m not sure how to put it into words. If I had to choose one, it would be tragic. He’d been imprisoned for so long. When he connected with me a couple of days ago, I saw the room where he’s being held. It was filled with books and writing materials that passed the time, but he was so alone. He’s lived more than one person’s lifetime in a prison with no hope of leaving. And then Lyra, thinking him dead all this time.”
I set down my mug and burrowed into his arms, my head resting on his chest. “He doesn’t have control over his dreamwalking and doesn’t have his medallion. If it had been on him at the time of the accident, Lorenzo would have taken it. I know he’s been tortured, but I wonder if he’s been drugged. Maybe he still is.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Devon ran a thumb over my wrist, the effect calming. “He was most likely mesmerized, but from what we’ve learned from your experience, that wouldn’t have lasted long. Which might have forced Lorenzo to try drugs. He could be using sedatives, hallucinogens, or some homegrown concoction from the Blood Poppy.”
I sat up. “I never considered the Blood Poppy. I wonder what impact that would have on a dreamwalker. I mean, it’s on our medallions. We’re supposed to have some connection with it.”
“As are vampires. But the only knowledge I have of the Blood Poppy is from its derivative the Magic Poppy.”
I shivered. “And that couldn’t possibly leave a positive impact.”
“Remus’s lab is still trying to determine what other ingredients make up the Poppy, but they’re not having much luck.”
A funny feeling made my gut twist. It couldn’t be that simple. Surely Remus’s lab would have tested it, but maybe they required a pure sample, rather than from what had been found in Devon’s system. The blending might have thrown off the results.
“What’s wrong?” Devon brushed my hair from my face. “You’re chilled. We should go in.”
I glanced up at him. “What if Lorenzo knows Hamilton is a dreamwalker, and he’s using his blood?”
Devon shook his head. “But your blood cured me of the Poppy. If Lorenzo was using it to make the Poppy addictive and bring the beast out, wouldn’t your blood have made my condition worse, possibly permanent?”
That shocked me. I had been so sure my blood would cure him. What if it had done exactly what he proposed? I could have locked Devon within his beast forever. “I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with the ratio of vampire to dreamwalker blood. Or maybe there’s another additive. But why else would he keep Hamilton imprisoned for so long? Lorenzo must be getting something out of it. If it was a simple grudge, it should have died out decades ago.”
“All I know for sure is that we’re not going to figure it out today. And we need Colantha for this discussion. Maybe even Remus.” He stood while I was still in his arms, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You need a nap before your next session.”
He carried me down the stairs to the second floor, then straight to his room.
I grinned. “I thought you said a nap.”
He chuckled. “And that’s exactly what I mean. But there’s no reason you can’t sleep while in my arms.” He stripped us both down until we were left in our underwear, and then he pulled me into bed, throwing the covers over us. “We’ve had little time to hold each other over the last couple of weeks. I need to feel you next to me.”
We spooned, and when he threw an arm over me, I tugged it to me, holding on tight, surprised by how quickly sleep took over. My last muddy thought was if Lorenzo had a Blood Poppy, who gave it to him?
