I closed my eyes again for a moment and sank into the soothing motion, enjoying being close to Devereux. I burrowed my face into his silky hair, loving the spicy smell of it. I didn't know what it was about him that felt so right to me. So familiar. But in the midst of the madness my life had become, I was almost willing to stop thinking and just trust.
He picked up a bottle of water, cracked the seal, removed the top and handed it to me. I downed half of the water in one long pull and only realized how dry my mouth had been after it wasn't dry anymore. I set the bottle on the table next to the bed and suddenly felt awkward. There I was, in a magnificent bed being held by a blond god, and all I could think about was that my sweat suit was all rumpled and my mouth tasted sour. Which didn't bode well for the state of my breath.
Devereux smiled and stroked my hair.
"Your breath is fine, but after you rest a while longer if you wish to refresh yourself in order to feel confident, I can provide everything you need. But now I think you ought to lie back. You still seem pale."
"'That's something, coming from you," I teased self-consciously, in an attempt to change the subject.
He grinned. "Yes, I suppose you could say I have no need of suntan lotion."
He put his hand behind my head, grasped it gently, and guided it down toward the pillow. It did feel wonderful to surrender into the soft mattress again. He stretched out next to me, our bodies touching, his head propped on his hand, facing me.
"Kismet, are you having more dreams lately? More than usual?"
I thought about the child's fangs in my neck and my skin went clammy.
"It isn't that I'm having more dreams. I always dream. It's that the dreams, the nightmares, are horrible. Graphic and bloody and violent. Completely unlike my usual dreams. Why did you ask me that?"
''The same thing is happening to me and many others of my kind. An increase in dark visions and nightmares.'*
I lifted my head, stared at him and raised my eyebrows. "Are you saying that vampires dream?"
He opened his eyes wide and raised a brow. "That is the first time you have referred to me as a vampire. Do you realize that you have just accepted what I am?" He cocked his head. "What has happened to change your belief?"
"'Well, I'm not all the way over on your side of the coffin yet, but it was mostly because of talking to Alan. And what I saw at your club last night."
At the mention of Alan, a heavy feeling settled in my stomach. Chinese food with a side of Guilt poured over Shame, followed by a dessert of Feeling Like a Slut. I hoped Alan was still sleeping soundly on my couch. I didn't know if Devereux was aware of my sexual interlude with Alan earlier, but I knew Alan wasn't aware of my relationship with Devereux.
What a tangled web we weave . . .
"Yes. I am aware of your time with Alan, but you are a grown woman and able to make your own decisions. As much as I wish I could have been there for you this morning, that was not possible. I am glad someone was. Alan is a fine man."
Then he chuckled. "A slut? You surprise me. I would not have expected such a thing from a modern woman. That
would imply something that I sense no evidence of. Why would you think that about yourself?"
"Well, Mister Mind reader, I don't really. It's just old programming. Most women have some of it. The idea that we're bad if we express our sexuality freely. Cultural baggage. I know all the therapeutic reasons why guilt isn't useful, but I still feel it anyway."
I sighed. "Yesterday Tom walked in on me in the bath tub and if he hadn't behaved extremely badly, I might have had sex with him. Then last night I just about tore your
clothes off at the club, and today I was with Alan. After two years of celibacy, that's a lot to deal with."
His voice wrapped me in aural fur as he stroked my cheek with the side of his finger. "It is not necessary for you to be so hard on yourself. You have had a lot of changes to integrate and understand. Turning to Alan for comfort was a natural thing to do. You had been through a terrible ordeal."
Anger flashed in his eyes, I felt the air crackle and my skin tingled.
"An ordeal that will never happen again, I promise you. You are mine to protect now."
Wow. He's capable of some impressive mood swings himself This probably isn't a good time to talk about the "mine to protect" thing.
He took a slow breath and his eyes returned to their calm, magical turquoise.
The corners of his mouth curved into a gentle smile. "But we were talking about dreams. You asked if vampires dream. Yes. We have access to levels of consciousness that are unavailable to most mortals, and when we turn inward during the daylight hours, our minds—or souls, if you will—journey to other realms. Dimensions that cannot be explained with words. Worlds that exist beyond the waking and sleeping dreams that humans know. Are you willing to share your nightmare with me?"
"I thought you could read my mind. Why do you need me to tell you the dream?"
"For some reason, I can only sense it as a series of emotional impressions—fast-moving pictures. If you tell me what you experienced, perhaps I can help you understand what it is trying to communicate to you. That is what psychology believes, yes?"
"Yes. That's true. But I still don't understand why you want to know."
"Honestly, I am not sure. I simply feel compelled. Unless it is too unpleasant to recount again so soon?"
"No. I believe that dreams are metaphorical messages, so I might as well figure out what this one really means."
I gave him all the details of the nightmare, along with all the feelings it triggered in me. He listened quietly, his brows contracted, his lips compressed.
"We must make time very soon to discuss the symbols in your dream. It is fascinating that so many are having similar visions. It is also important for us to have a conversation about vampires and what acceptance of us will mean for you. I wish we had time to begin the dialog now because I would have preferred to explain tonight's ceremony to you in greater detail, but we must hurry."
My solar plexus tightened. "Wait a minute. I don't care for the sound of that. What will this ceremony consist of? What would you have explained?"
A knock sounded at the door and a petite, five foot nothing, twenty-something woman stepped into the room. She appeared more pixie than vampire. That is, until she spoke and exposed fangs that were distinctive and highly visible. She had bright red hair that curled around her shoulders, large, brown eyes and she wore a sheer black dress under which was, apparently, nothing but skin.
''Master, it is nearly time for the ceremony. The others are arriving."
Master?
Devereux nodded at her and she backed out of the room.
He climbed off the bed, stood next to it and held out his hand to me. "I swear to you that no matter how strange the ceremony may appear to you, no matter how unfamiliar, no harm will come to you. A ritual of protection is one of the oldest, most potent types of magic. In its simplest form, it is a focusing of intention—surrounding the one needing protection with a powerful aura of well-being that repels all energy unlike itself. It will be as if you are floating in an invisible bubble of safety. Not very different from current Pagan rituals."
Pagans with fangs?
I sat frozen on the bed, my mind spinning out ever-more-gory, blood-soaked scenarios about the mysterious ceremony. No matter how logical his explanation, I barely knew Devereux and had no reason to trust him. Whether he really was a vampire—which was still mentally incomprehensible to me—or "only" a disturbed man, I was at his mercy. Inhuman or human, what I'd observed about Devereux and his colleagues didn't fit into any reality I knew about. I had no frame of reference and the lifeboat I'd been riding in up until then had sprung a leak and I had no idea if there were sharks in the water.
My stomach contracted so tightly I could barely breathe.
Devereux bent down and met my eyes. "No harm. I swear."
I gazed into his blue-green depths and believed him.
So, the Head Shark just said he won't eat me. Should I laugh or scream?
The door opened again and several women—none of whom I'd ever seen before—entered the room and lined up a few feet away from the bed.
Devereux indicated them with a sweep of his arm. "My companions have come to assist you with dressing. They will prepare you for the ceremony."
He kissed me lightly on the lips and turned to walk away.
My throat tightened and the sound came out like a squeak. "Wait! What do you mean, they'll prepare me for the ceremony? "
Why does this remind me of the cartoon where the cannibals have a huge pot boiling on the fire, waiting for the hapless hunter to arrive?
I didn't see any ropes, chains or anything else that could be used to restrain me. No cooking utensils or things with an edge that could cause bleeding. But my imagination was working overtime, creating scary and unspeakable possibilities.
"Ah, my apologies. I forget that you have not given yourself permission yet to read my thoughts. You still choose to resist. They are here to help you select one of the beautiful dresses and to make sure you have everything you need."
He pointed to a tall, slender woman with long brown hair and golden eyes. Her rangy body was encased in what used to be called a "unitard," a one-piece body suit worn for exercising. Except during the disco era, when these skin-tight, shiny numbers showed up on the dance floor along with six-inch platform shoes and big hair. Her suit made her look like she'd been dipped in a glittering rainbow, since every color imaginable was present. And the form-fitting garment left no doubt about her voluptuous shape.
"This is Nola. She will see to your hair and makeup."
I ran a hand through my tangled hair. The disco queen will see to my hair and makeup? "My hair and makeup? I don't think so."
I rolled off the bed and walked a wide circle around the women standing between me and the door.
Devereux repeated his disturbing habit of suddenly appearing in front of me, frowned and laid a hand on my arm. "Why do you object to being adorned? You usually wear makeup."
He said the last with impatience in his voice. I guess my resistance had unpleasantly surprised him. Maybe he wasn't used to anyone saying "no" to him. I wasn't the only one who had a lot to learn.
I summoned my best, no-bullshit facial expression. "You need to fill me in on what's happening here. I'm not going anywhere or letting anyone do anything until I'm clued in."
He heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head.
"As I have said before, you are the most stubborn woman I have ever known. Are you not ever willing to be spontaneous? Must you be in control at all times? Are you unable to even sense the truth of my words?"
Well, that stopped me. He'd managed to trespass into my psyche and find the hottest buttons to push. I'd often been accused of lacking spontaneity, and my controlling nature was legendary. How else is a woman supposed to rise to the top of her field if she doesn't take control of her reality? But he had pulled the scab off a painful wound. I did wish that I was able to relax and trust more—that I could follow my intuitive guidance. That I wasn't so . . . anal.
But it was the expression on his face that really turned the tide. In one breathtaking gaze he'd managed to communicate that he thought this ceremony was for my benefit. That he'd arranged it to keep me safe. That he was worried about me.
Shit Now he's gone and done it He's got me feeling guilty about letting him down. How did that happen?
My shoulders sagged. I met his concerned eyes and nodded. "All right. I trust you."
Maybe. Where can I find some shark repellent?
He flashed a brilliant smile. "Thank you." He bowed from the waist and glided toward the door. "I will return for you shortly. It will be an extraordinary evening."
He left and the women surrounded me. Nola floated over to the chair where the dresses were draped.
"Which dress do you prefer?" She smiled, showing even, white teeth.
I expected her to have fangs and was surprised she appeared so normal. Except for the golden eyes.
She smiled again and her canines descended.
Can everybody read my mind?
She laughed and nodded. "Probably."
I'm in a parallel universe where everyone is telepathic except me.
"No. You can do it, too. The Master told us. He said you are a special human."
"Why do you call him Master? Is he holding you here against your will? Are you brainwashed?"
She cocked her head to the side, confusion flowing across her features.
"He takes care of us. He is more powerful than any who came before. We aren't prisoners here. We are privileged to attend him. To be in his presence." Her face shone with rapture.
Eeewww. Devereux has a harem of bloodsucking handmaidens. Worshipping devotees. Disempowered females. If he thinks Fm going to join the cult, he's sadly mistaken. This is the twenty-first century, mister, and Fm a liberated woman. I wonder what other services they perform for him? What if this ceremony deal is some kind of bizarre sexual ritual?
"Can you tell me about the ceremony we're going to? What should I expect?"
She smiled, which confused me until I figured out that she'd obviously read my mind and knew about my judgments and speculations.
She met my eyes briefly then shifted away. "That information is not mine to share. Have you decided on a gown?" She pointed to the dresses on the chair.
I'd felt a mild tingle wash through my body as she'd turned her eyes to me. I didn't know if all vampires could entrance with their eyes, but I had to admit I'd felt something.