“Did they mention how he died?”
Jazzy shook her head. “They’re not saying anything.” Nervous, she toyed with her hair, twisting one thick lock around and around her finger. “They haven’t even given his name. I guess they’re waiting for next of kin.”
“If they haven’t released his name, then how do you know it’s him?”
Jazzy stopped pacing. She turned to look at her sister. With a jerky shrug, she said, “I just know. They flashed something about a murder victim across the screen during the morning news and I just knew.”
Jazzy looked incredibly young as she stared at her sister. Her blue green eyes were turbulent with worry and her face was pale. “Did you have anything to do with it?”
“Why would you think that?” Morgan folded her arms across her chest. “And sweetie, don’t take this wrong, but why are you so upset that he’s dead? Aren’t you the one telling me how we’re doing the world a favor by getting rid of some of these marks?”
A stubborn look settled on Jazzy’s face. “The world ain’t gonna cry over the likes of Lamar Hedges. He’s dead, and whoever killed him, let’s give him a round of applause. But I’ve got a bad feeling about this—a really bad feeling. Now can you answer me? Did you have anything to do with this?”
Before Morgan could answer, Jazzy’s phone rang.
A
NOTHER day. Another hotel.
This one didn’t have any interior rooms, so instead of sleeping on a bed, he was sleeping on the couch inside the “sitting” area. There weren’t any windows and that was good enough for him. Although the couch opened into a queen-size bed, he’d bypassed that torture device. His feet hung over the edge, but, in and of itself, it was fairly comfortable.
Once he’d stretched out, he was out to the world.
He’d had a few hours of solid, blank sleep before tumbling into a deep, troublesome dream. One of those that he really didn’t want to dream.
Dominic was trapped on the sidelines, forced to watch and listen while she fell further and further away from him.
Nessa faced a man who watched her with greed and avarice.
“I saw you. I saw what you did to the boy.”
Fear made her voice shake as she replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But she did. She knew. It was there in her eyes, on her face.
Dominic could taste the lie on her. But he wasn’t the one she had to worry about. Locked in his dream, forced into a spectator’s seat, he could do nothing but watch as she faced a man who reeked with evil. Just as he could taste the lie, Dominic could taste the evil. The greed.
“Now don’t lie to me. I’m not going to tell anybody. I just thought . . . that perhaps you and I should get to know each other better. We could both benefit from such a relationship.”
Dominic muttered under his breath, “Walk away. Just walk away.”
As though she’d heard him, she turned on her heel and walked. But before she reached the door the man spoke again.
“It’s so nice to know that little Jazzy has somebody around who cares for her, to protect her, is willing to do anything to make sure she stays safe. You want that, don’t you—for your sister to be safe?”
The dream faded—reformed.
Dominic was no longer stuck in his spectator seat. He sat on the beach, staring out at the water as the sun beat down overhead. It was high noon, but in his dream the heat of the sun was no threat to him.
She could be, though. She could be an awful threat.
For the first time in more than a year, he could touch her. She lay next to him on a towel, wearing nothing but a brightly colored triangle that barely covered her butt.
“You’re getting into too much trouble,” he murmured. He held a bottle of sunscreen in his hand. As he spoke, he opened it and squeezed some of it into his hand. He slicked it over her back and she arched into his touch, making a soft sound, almost like a kitten purring. “You have to stop before it’s too late.”
One eye opened lazily and she peered up at him. “I can handle it. I’ll be fine.”
“No.” His lotion-slicked hands went lower, trailing over her hips, over the curve of her butt, then down to her thighs. He kneaded the muscles in her legs. “I don’t think you can handle this. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
She squirmed around until she could turn onto her back. When his gaze dipped lower, she gave him a cheeky grin. “Don’t you know who I am? Trust me, I can handle this.”
Dominic shook his head.
Focus
, he told himself.
Focus on something other than the fact that she’s lying here with those beautiful breasts bare. On something other than the fact that she’s all but naked.
It wasn’t easy. His cock swelled—ached. His fingers itched, longing to reach out and touch her. And his mouth watered—longing to taste. He realized he was lowering his head to do just that, and he swore, stiffening as he pulled away.
“You only think you can handle this. You don’t know what you’re getting into—because if you did, you never would’ve started down this road.”
Nessa smiled at him and reached for his hand. “Must we talk now? I can think of so many things that would be far more fun than
talking
.” As she spoke, she brought his hand to her breast. Then she reached out and curled a hand around his neck, drawing him closer. “Come to me . . . kiss me. It’s been too long since we were together like this . . . I feel so empty without you.”
“This isn’t a good idea.” Even to his ears, the muttered words sounded halfhearted at best. He let her pull him lower.
His fangs throbbed in their sheaths, but he didn’t let them emerge. Carefully, he used the straighter, blunter human teeth, raking them across her soft, sun-warmed flesh. She tasted like coconut lotion and woman—sweet, so sweet. Groaning against her, he sucked one pink, swollen nipple into his mouth.
Beneath him, she whimpered and arched up, pressing herself closer. “Don’t be silly. I think it’s a fine idea.” She pulled him over her, her hands strong and certain.
As she pushed his swimming trunks down over his ass, he caught the strings of her bikini bottom and tore them. She laughed against his mouth, breathless. “Yes . . . now you see, this is much better than talking.”
Dominic growled and slanted his mouth over hers. He ached to press his mouth to her neck, pierce her flesh and feed from her as he sank his cock into her body. But he didn’t.
She reached between them and caught his rigid flesh, stroking him with a teasing, light touch. He crowded against her, trapping her hand between them as he nudged the head of his cock against her slick, wet heat.
“A lovely thing about dream sex,” she murmured. “We won’t get sand everywhere.”
“Quit talking now.” He nipped her lower lip and caught her hands, guiding them over her head. “Open for me, Nessa . . . open . . .”
She brought her knees up, hugging them to his hips. As he pushed inside, she whimpered in her throat. “Faster. Harder. More.”
“No.” He brushed his mouth against hers and began to retreat, pulling back bit by bit, and then surging inside her. She was tight, so tight around him, her silken tissues caressing and squeezing him even as she resisted him. She whimpered in her throat.
“Shhh . . .”
He trailed his lips over her neck, biting her gently, just above her pulse. She shuddered, pressed closer. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth—a warning. His fangs slid lower but before he could pierce her flesh, he tore his mouth away.
Her legs twined around his hips, and she arched, rubbing herself against him. “Please don’t leave me . . .” she begged. “Promise you won’t leave. Let’s just stay here . . . always.”
Her desperate plea tore through him, like a poison blade, leaving pain and death in its wake. What he wouldn’t give to be able to make that promise, to know he could keep it. “Dreams don’t last forever,” he whispered against her lips.
“But one day, I will find you. Once I find you, I won’t lose you again.”
He ran a hand down her side, cupped her breast. Gently, he pinched her nipple, rubbed it back and forth between his finger and thumb. Kissing a path from her mouth down to her swollen flesh, he worked his arm beneath her, locking her lower body in place.
He sucked on her nipple, drawing it deep, pressing it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Under the fragile shield of her skin, he could scent her blood, feel it coursing through her veins. He shuddered, trembled, as he fought the urge to mark her, to bite her, to bind her to him.
Her nails tore across his back. The sharp, quick sting brought a harsh groan to his lips.
Nessa caught his face between her hands. She rubbed her thumb over his lower lip. From under her lashes, she watched him. “You’re holding back. Please don’t hold back . . . not here, not with me. I want everything, everything you are, everything within you.”
She didn’t know what she was asking. But then it was just a dream . . . right? Swearing, he fisted a hand in her hair and pulled, angling her chin up and to the side, baring her neck. He scraped her skin lightly with his fangs. Reaching down with his free hand, he cupped her ass, canting her hips up. He drove into her hard, fast.
She screamed.
Dominic twisted his hips, rubbing his body against her right . . . there. Her scream died abruptly. She bucked in his arms, thrashed and whimpered.
This time, when he tasted his own blood, he didn’t pull back. His fangs dropped and he pierced her flesh, just as she started to come. As her blood flooded into him, he emptied himself into her.
I
T was nearing sunset. Dominic dreaded it—once the sun set, he’d waken and the dream would end.
Already his body tried to wake him, but he didn’t want to leave the dream. Pulling her closer, he nuzzled her neck. “Tell me you’ll be careful.”
“I’m always careful.” She tipped her head back and smiled at him.
“No, you’re not. If you were careful, you wouldn’t be in the trouble you’re in right now.”
Golden brows drew low over her eyes and she scowled at him. “You keep telling me about this trouble, but I’m telling you, I’m fine.”
Feeling cold, Dominic pushed away from her arms and sat up. He stared out at the ocean, watching as the setting sun painted it a thousand shades of gold. “You’re not fine. You killed somebody the other day—you
wanted
the blood.”
But she acted as though she didn’t hear him. She trailed a hand over his back, and Dominic couldn’t help but remember the phantom pain of the knife piercing his flesh—right where she touched. “You seem so real.”
“I am real,” he said quietly, cupping her face. “I am real. And stop changing the subject. You need to be careful.”
She rolled her eyes and asked, “What are you so afraid of? I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. What has you so worried?”
He shook his head and whispered, “
You
have me so worried. I’m terrified . . . scared I’m going to lose you before I even find you.”
“So real,” she murmured again, stroking his face. “If you’re real, then where are you? How I can find you?”
He reached around and caught her arm, pulling her into his lap. Nuzzling her neck, he murmured vaguely, “Tell me where
you
are.”
“I asked you first.” With a devilish grin on her lips, she straddled him and linked her arms around his neck. “Tell me your name.”
“Tell me you’ll be careful,” he countered.
She opened her mouth, but even as she started to speak, she faded away.
Dominic awoke in the next second, jerking upright on the couch in the empty hotel room.
Alone.
“
S
o . . . do we have a deal, Ms. Wakefield?”
Morgan wanted to tell the man to shove it. She wanted to turn on her heel and walk, keep walking. She’d find Jazzy and the two of them could disappear.
Peter Sanders smiled, as though he knew every thought running through her head. “I wonder what Social Services would think, you taking care of your baby sister, and no idea where your mother is. She’s only fifteen. You’re not her legal guardian.”
“It’s so good of you to be concerned for her welfare,” Morgan said scathingly.
Peter shrugged. “Tell me, did your mother say anything before she disappeared? Did she run off with one of her johns?”
A sharp pain twisted through Morgan’s head—for one second, she could see her mother, superimposed over her vision. She was laughing, and in one hand, she held a bloody knife.
Then it was over.
With a lazy shrug, Morgan replied, “I have no idea where she is. And I don’t really care. I can take better care of Jazzy, anyway.”
Peter tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “You’ll have a hard time doing that once the state gets a look at you. You never graduated from high school. You don’t have a job.” He smirked and added, “Although I suppose you can put robbery down as your sole source of income. That will impress them.”