Page 43 of Taming His Vampire Mate
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I must have drifted off at some point, too.
Because the vampire looked even more stunning in the dream. Or perhaps now that I understood he wasn’t just capable of feeling, but actually a good person, I was finally allowing myself to really notice his beauty.
It was deep twilight, on the knife-edge of night. He stood at the edge of Elizabeth Lake—six miles from my hometown of Crescent Springs—gazing across the glasslike water. Mountains loomed above it, impossibly large and capped with snow. The scene was lit with fireflies and motes of pure electric-blue magic, precisely the shade of his eyes. And in that ethereal light, he didn’t look angry, dismissive, or cold.
Instead, in profile, he looked softer in the gathering dark. More open, almost innocent. Perhaps more of the man he had been before becoming a vampire.
He turned to me as I approached, his eyes searching mine. “What is this place?”
His tone was deceptively neutral, but I wasn’t convinced. Tension vibrated through him, like he might bolt at any moment.
“This is Elizabeth Lake,” I said gently, the way you soothe a frightened animal. “It’s near the pack’s commune in the Cascades. One of my favorite places, which is probably why it’s here.”
“I’m not sure I understand. What’s happening?”
“We’re dreaming,” I told him simply.
He blinked, lips parting in surprise. He stared at me, too startled to be hostile, then broke away and took in the scene with a more speculative look.
“I don’t remember how I got here,” he said slowly. “I was in a motel room before this. Now I’m suddenly outside.” He frowned at me, strangely thoughtful. “You’re right, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes,” I breathed, watching him. His voice, sweet and smooth, was delicious to hear. I wanted to hang on his every word, even dipped in cyanide as they often were. “It happens every once in a while.”
The vampire truly was beautiful, wasn’t he? With those strange blue eyes, his golden hair, flawless skin, and almost aristocratic features, he seemed ethereal—a creature made of magic and twilight. Yet there was something raw about him, too. Something wounded. Outrageously vulnerable.
I could sense it, deep in my bones. Hurt within him that begged to be protected, at all costs.
Awe gripped me again.
This was a mate dream. And now that I understood who Thierry was, it felt different. I wanted to talk to him. Truthfully, I wanted him to be mine, even if he couldn’t be.
“Why is this happening?” Thierry demanded, his glare snapping back into place. “How are you doing this?”
“I’m not doing this. And neither are you.We’redoing this. Both of us, together.”
He let out a long, theatrical sigh and shook his head, as if to clear it. “Okay, no. Absolutely not. This is madness.”
I stared at him, incredulous. How could he muster up anything close to dismissiveness? Didn’t he understand we were in the grip of the deepest magic there was? That we were experiencing a miracle together?
I waited for him to go on, but when he didn’t, I prompted, “No?”
He sighed. “Here’s what’s happening: I’m having a lucid dream. I was probably about to have a sex dream about you and somehow became aware that I was dreaming before we could getstarted.” He flashed me a reproachful look, as though blaming me for that. “You are, unfortunately, very attractive.”
I grinned. “Having sexy thoughts about me, then?”
He rolled his eyes in answer. “Anyway. That’s what this is. A lucid dream. I’m dreaming, but aware. If you live long enough, you’ll have one eventually. I’ve had quite a few.”
“With eight centuries under your belt, I bet that’s true.” I caught a mote of sparkling blue magic in my hand and held it out to him. “You really think this is just an ordinary lucid dream?”
Wonder flashed in Thierry’s eyes as he stared at my outstretched palm.
Then he seemed to shake himself. “Good Lord, what am I doing? Why am I explaining myself to you?” He took a step back. “You’re just a dream figure.”
“A dream figure,” I repeated slowly. What the hell did that mean?
“You’re a figment of my subconscious,” he explained, frowning with speculation. “You’re not really here. You’re still back in the motel room, keeping watch. This is just an exceptionally vivid lucid dream. It’s not real.” Then his gaze darkened, and a smile slid into place. “Which means anything could happen here.”
