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Ana had finally quieted. Unable to resist, Ty zoomed in on her face, wondering at the difference sleep made.

Awake, Ana was all snarling, snapping energy, triggering an intoxicating rush of adrenaline that kept a man on his toes and fearing for the safety of his balls—he certainly knew that firsthand.

Asleep, she was captivatingly feminine, with dark lashes fanning her cheeks, her plump lips slightly parted to expose the tip of her pink tongue and strong, white teeth. She didn’t exactly look vulnerable; more like someone a man could be vulnerable with. A woman strong enough to lean and be leaned on. A warrior princess
who’d be as fierce in bed as she was on the battlefield.

It was when she was quiet that her true strength came out; the rest was all show, and anyone could see that. If she joined Belladonna, he would teach her that hiding the monster within was your best chance at unleashing it and destroying your enemy.

He should know. He
was
a monster, after all. She’d figure that out, too, eventually.

But for now … for right now … he wanted to release his firm hold on reality.

He wanted to pretend that he was human again. That his future didn’t involve coercing and endangering and using this intriguing woman in front of him, but rather pleasuring and giving to her. That she could give him all that she was, fierce fighter and tender lover, and that he could do the same, with no fear of repercussions or regret.

In a way, it was his own dream, but one he gladly entered while awake. One awash with vibrant color, intoxicating smells, and luxurious texture. He should have died multiple times now, but for once he was glad he hadn’t.

Because he wanted Ana.

And in his dreams—in
this
dream—he could have her.

One minute Ana was dreaming about herself as a powerless child and the next she was dreaming about sex, not just for the sake of having it, but because she craved it. Because for the first time in her entire life, a man was making her crave it.

That man was Ty Duncan.

They stood mere feet away from each other. Instead of the pitch-black hair and dark eyes he’d had back at the coffee shop, his hair was lighter and his eyes were now
a sea-swept blue. The difference in coloring made him appear younger. More approachable. So did the look of yearning in his eyes. He stared at her as if he needed her to breathe. To feel. Quite simply, to exist.

Had anyone ever looked at her like that? As if she was everything to him?

He might cherish every part of her, if only she’d let him.

He remained silent, though. Watchful.

“Afraid I’m going to hurt you?” she asked, thinking of how she’d smashed his face into a wall and grabbed his balls. But that had been in real life. This was a dream. Perhaps he didn’t remember. Or perhaps for this dream-Ty, none of it had actually happened.

“I
am
afraid you’re going to hurt me,” he said quietly. Yet somehow, they both knew he wasn’t talking about her hurting him physically, but on a deeper emotional plane.

She didn’t wake up. The slow burn of arousal continued to coil through her body. She raised her hand, cupped his neck, and tugged his head down.

Though his eyes widened slightly, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“You’re cold,” she said, noting again how low his natural body temperature was. It was simply an observation, not a complaint, and his features relaxed.

“Maybe to you. But I feel anything but cold right now.”

“I know what you mean,” she confessed, relishing her ability to talk freely for once. “Me, too.”

“You’re hot,” he agreed. “But I’m wondering where you’re the hottest.”

“You know curiosity killed the cat, right?”

He laughed and she jolted slightly, awed by how much his entire demeanor softened. Dear God, she’d thought he was amazing when he’d been in full badass mode.
When he let down his guard and laughed? Hell, it was entirely possible she’d climax right then and there. Instead, she instinctively squeezed her thighs together, trying to dull the empty throbbing in her core.

He took a swift breath, his eyes heavy-lidded. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out and trailed his fingertips lightly against her hip. “Doesn’t matter. I’m willing to take my chances.”

She couldn’t speak. She quivered as his fingertips shifted to her outer thigh.

“So will you?”

“Will I what?” she breathed, not taking her gaze away from his fingers.

“Will you let me find out where you’re the hottest?”

Swallowing hard, she asked, “Don’t you know?”

She was stunned by her own daring. She was actually teasing him. Flirting. Encouraging his sexual attention. She’d never done that with a man. At least, not so naturally. On occasion, she forced herself to go to a bar and find a man to have sex with, but to her those interludes had always been about proving something. Not sexual anticipation or pleasure. This way was so much better, she realized.

“I could guess,” he said reluctantly. “But I’d rather take it step by step. Unless you want to just tell me.”

Tell him and end this, he meant. Even in her dream, he was being a gentleman.

“No,” she said. “I don’t want to tell you.”

He grinned. “Good. So let’s get started—”

His hand moved, and she suddenly panicked and grabbed his wrist. “Wait! When—when will you stop?”

“Whenever you want me to.”

She must have looked as dubious as she felt because his expression went completely serious. Despite her death grip on his wrist, he turned his hand over and entangled their fingers.

“You never have to fear that I’ll take things where you don’t want to go, princess. All I want is to please you.”

“Why do you keep calling me princess?”

He looked uncomfortable for a second. Odd for a dream. She’d thought he’d answer that question just as easily as he had the others.

“You said you never lie,” she reminded him.

He hesitated awhile longer. Then said, “I used to read to my sister, Naomi, at bedtime. Her favorite fairy tale was
Sleeping Beauty
. Remember I said you weren’t living, but waiting? I call you princess because you’re asleep. You don’t know how beautiful you are. How much the world needs you. And I want to be the man who kisses you and wakes you up.”

His words stunned her. Made her melt inside and yearn to be cradled in his arms. Instinctively, she tried to protect herself, shooting back, “So you see yourself as a prince?”

He grew even more somber. That look of need came back, but along with it were hints of things she didn’t want to see. Not from him.

Defeat. Resignation.

“No, I’m no prince.” Releasing her hand, he pulled away. Automatically, she let go, too. He took several steps back, his gaze hardening. “In fact, I’m more devil than anything. You should remember that.”

He turned to go and another feeling of panic hit her, this one far stronger than the first.

“Wait,” she called out. “You promised you’d stop when I wanted you to.”

He paused, and she forced herself to keep speaking so that this odd but lovely dream wouldn’t end yet. God, please don’t let it end yet.

“And I—I don’t want you to stop,” she confessed. “I want you to find where I’m the hottest.”

He walked up to her again. “You going to give me any hints where to start?”

She took his hand and led it to her breast. Swiftly inhaled when he gently cupped her aching flesh.

“Nice,” he said just as his mouth lowered to hers.

She expected him to plunge his tongue inside her mouth, but he kept his lips closed. Gentle. Respectful. He kissed her the way a young boy courting his first girl might, his body vibrating with excitement even as he forced himself to go slow.

No one had ever treated her with such care.

Miguel had loved her, of course. He’d sacrificed much to protect her; she’d ended up hating herself for it, and in some ways hating him. Every time she’d seen him, she’d seen the life that she could never escape. With Ty, she saw the type of life, the kind of
man
, that she could never have.

Except here … in her dreams. Here, she could enjoy his touch. And because he made her feel safe with his gentleness, she didn’t need it so much.

Opening her mouth, she licked his lips, urging him to give her more. Groaning, he angled his head and rubbed his tongue against hers. The hand that he’d placed on her breast began to move, kneading the small globe. Soon, his thumb rubbed her hardened nipple. The contrast of that firm, confident touch and the warm, increasingly eager but still silky-soft pressure of his mouth made her whimper. The sound was fraught with need, and she instinctively pulled her mouth away from his, ashamed.

One look at Ty made her embarrassment vanish.

If she’d sounded needy, he looked it.

He watched her intently. His cheeks were flushed. His breathing broken. His gaze dropped to his hand, which was still playing with her breast. She inhaled swiftly at the sight of his big hand cupping her and she immediately
imagined
both
his hands on her. On both breasts. All over her body. In her hair. On her hips. Between her thighs.

With his free hand, he grabbed her hip and tugged her slightly closer so his beautiful blue eyes stared into hers. “I want to taste your breasts. Will you let me?”

She hesitated. He was being so
good
. Asking her permission before taking things further, as if he didn’t want to scare her. In response, she pulled away completely. His face reflected his disappointment.

When she peeled off the tank top she wore to sleep in, he was on her.

His hands on her hips. His mouth on her breasts. His tongue on her nipples. His smell all over her. Inside her.

And somehow, he went straight to the place that mattered most.

Her heart.

After watching Ana sleep for several more minutes, Ty took a shaky breath and turned away from the monitor. He’d already taken several steps when she moaned again. This time, her moan was different. She didn’t sound haunted, as she often did when she dreamed. No, this moan had a distinct tone of arousal to it.

And that caused him to whip around so fast he almost lost his balance.

In all the days he’d watched Ana sleeping, she’d never given any sign of having sexual dreams. Until now.

Another breathy, trembling moan echoed out of the surveillance equipment, but as much as it jacked him up, that wasn’t what held Ty transfixed. No, it was what Ana was doing to herself that rocked his world. She cupped both of her breasts and gently massaged them. At the same time, her hips began to twitch underneath
the sheets as she sought some kind of relief from her arousal.

Ty immediately felt his cock lengthen and his mouth start to water. As he watched, her movements grew bolder. More frantic. She pinched her nipples. Caressed her face and thighs. And … Oh, God, there she was, cupping herself and then pushing her panties aside to slide her fingers inside herself. He leaned as close to the monitor as he could, but even though he knew she had to be soaking wet, he couldn’t see the shine of her juices on her fingers. Couldn’t smell her arousal. Couldn’t feel her.

And damn it, he wanted to feel her. Wanted all those things.

Instead, barely able to stop himself from racing to her house and taking what he wanted, he unzipped his pants and began stroking his painfully swollen cock, feeling guilty. He was jerking off to a woman who was asleep and on whom he was spying and he didn’t have enough strength to stop.

He kept his rhythm consistent with hers, imagining that he was inside her. That it was his cock and not her fingers that were pleasuring her. Finally, however, as he neared his release, he closed his eyes, not wanting to lose the fantasy that they were together by seeing her come alone in her bed. With no other visual stimuli to distract him, he let his imagination go wild and slowed things down.

He was no longer inside her, but as much as he mourned that loss, something wonderful had taken its place.

In his mind, he saw them. Interestingly enough, he saw himself as he had been, with the same brown hair he’d had before he was turned. The same blue eyes. For a split second, that outward countenance seemed to be a
stranger rather than the original deal, but those details quickly became unimportant.

They touched, but they also talked.

Bantered. Flirted. She trusted him enough to ask whether he’d stop touching her if that’s what she wanted. He trusted her enough to reveal why he called her princess. Both of them were disclosing their fears and revealing bittersweet memories. Soon, however, the time for talking was shoved aside by physical need. By his determination to do all that he’d promised—touch her everywhere until, step-by-step, he discovered where she was hottest.

For a panicked moment, he thought she was going to end it, but instead, she removed her nightshirt, baring her body to him. He sucked on her nipple and the taste of her made him dizzy. Immediately—because this was all in his head, after all—he nipped at her skin, not enough to hurt her but enough that a drop of her blood hit his tongue. It was so good, and by her excited gasp of pleasure, she agreed.

She tasted nothing like the blood sources his captors had brought him. And more important, tasting her blood didn’t have him thinking about her “mere” humanity or how she was meant to service and feed him. Rather, it had him thinking that there might be more of his humanity left inside him than he’d believed. And that maybe she was the one who could make sure that didn’t change.

He shook his head, automatically rejecting any notion that Ana could somehow save him. Right now, being saved wasn’t what he wanted anyway. Her body, the pleasure she was bringing him? That was a different story.

To get his mind back on track, he stripped Ana and himself, then carried her to a bed. He covered her body so his face hovered just above hers.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. She was drenched between her thighs and he wanted to go down on her. Wanted to suck her blood and taste her pussy juice until he was drowning in each one. He wanted to make her come. But first …