Page 25 of The Arbiter

A tinge of jealousy swirls in my stomach at the thought of another woman touching that perfectly sculpted back.

“I don’t want to know who you got it from,” Larkan snaps, seemingly done with the humor. “I want to know why you got that particular one.”

Monroe clears his throat. “Well, it might be easier to explain if you weren’t about to extinguish the life out of me with a very sharp blade.”

Larkan lets him go but warns, “Make one wrong move, and I’ll kill you.”

Stepping away, Monroe rubs the spot on his throat that looks a little worse for wear before he looks over to me and winks.What the shit? The Infernal has a death wish.

He walks back over to the counter and picks up his glass. Tipping it toward Larkan, he takes a drink before answering, “I’ve had this for many centuries now. It started as a simple nightmare that transferred over from a human when I fed. Then every year, on the same exact night, I would have the same dream. Cain raising an army of the undead and bringing wrath and fury down upon Earth through a broken seal.”

“Do you still have them?” Larkan asks, having put away his blade.

“What? The dreams?”

At Larkan’s nod, Monroe answers, “Yes. I still have them. Only…”

My body tenses as Larkan’s does. “Only what?” I ask out of curiosity.

A worried look crosses his face, but I see it before he can wipe it off. “I’m having it at least once a month now,” he says, looking to Larkan.

Who, in return, nods at him as if something has just clicked into place. I’m glad it did for one of us because I’m still lost.

Trying to get him to look at me, I reach out to touch Larkan on the arm. Those tingles travel up my hand, but I ignore them. “Why is his tattoo such a big deal?”

A flash of the dream I had plays out for a split second in my head, but it’s gone before I can make sense of it. I know I’m missing something.

He looks like he’s debating whether or not to tell us something right before he settles himself back down on the stool beside me. “I’ve been having the same dream.”

“Well there goes the neighborhood,” Monroe jokes again.

I roll my eyes at him. “Is this a bad thing?”

Larkan has his folded arms propping him up on the counter as he cuts his eyes over to me. “Normally, I would say no because we have a tendency to have dreams based on the past.”

“But?” I ask, almost not wanting to know the answer to my own question.

His face is completely devoid of emotion as he says, “They started the first night that I met you.”

“Not to mention,” Monroe pipes in, still half-naked and leaning against the counter. “Rite dreams are normally prophetic. Add that to the stuff happening with the kidnappings, and I’d say that we’ve got ourselves a good ole apocalypse waiting to happen.”

If maybe it was just the two of them, then I could possibly pass the whole thing off as a coincidence, but the voice from last night replays through my head, and it sends goosebumps down my arm. My second form flashes, and Monroe jerks upright and away from me as Larkan yanks his blade back out like he can sense the threat in the room.

“What is it, chérie?” Monroe asks with worry in his voice.

They just shared their shit with me, so it’s only fair that I share mine...if only that voice hadn’t flashed through my head again. I want to understand this myself first, and I don’t share it with them. Not yet. I jump up so fast that it almost knocks the stool to the ground.

“Okay, everyone out!” I almost yell.

The two of them look at me as if I’ve sprouted another head or something.

“Did you not hear me?” I snap.

“I said get out. Tonight has been a bucket full of soul sucking fun, and I need some me time. So get out,” I say, shooing them out the door. They both try to cut in and ask questions, but I send them off with a wave. Flicking the lock into place, I lean my back against the wood and let out a deep breath.

“Now where did I stash that whiskey?”

Enoch

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