“You didn’t hit me.”
She stared up at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You didn’t hit me,” he said, and actually sounded angry.
“I don’t . . .”
Turning, he paced away several steps. “I thought this was a dream. I thought I had made it into another of your dreams. But I touched your breast and you didn’t hit me, so this must just be another fantasy of mine.”
Lisette bit her lip when she saw his back. He bore no wings. An oddity. She had never seen him without them.
No, tonight his back boasted only bloody stripes that had clearly been carved by a whip.
“You fantasize about me?” she murmured.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’ve done little else since I met you.”
Just thinking about it turned her insides to mush and upped her desire another notch. “Zach, this isn’t a fantasy. This is a dream. It’s my dream.”
He faced her, his expression uncertain. “It is?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you . . . ?”
“Hit you?” she asked, amused by his confusion despite her concern for him.
He nodded.
“Because I wanted you to touch me.” Emboldened by his uncertainty, she closed the distance between them. “And I fantasize about you, too.” Raising a hand, she caressed his strong jaw.
He closed his eyes. Turning into her touch, he covered her hand with one of his own and held it to his cheek.
Minutes passed.
“Zach?” she asked at last.
His lashes lifted. “I’m going to try something else now,” he whispered.
Her body went liquid as she wondered what he would touch next. “Okay.”
He brought her palm to his lips for a kiss . . . then vanished.
Lisette turned in a circle. “Zach?”
Nothing.
“Zach!” she shouted.
It didn’t matter if the immortals in David’s house heard her. This was a dream. Whatever they—
Crash!
Lisette jerked awake at the sound of . . .
What the hell was that? It had sounded like a wrecking ball hitting the roof.
Sitting up, she reached over and flicked on the lamp beside the bed.
A loud rumbling above drew her eyes to the ceiling.
Tossing back the covers, she grabbed her shoto swords and hit the floor running. Out of the room and up the stairs she flew as whatever or whoever the hell was up there either rolled, leaped, or fell off the roof.
No daylight shone through the curtains in the living room as she sped toward the front door. Good. Still night.
No heartbeat echoed hers, so Tracy must have elected to stay at David’s.
Lisette didn’t even take the time to look out a front window. She just shut off the alarm, threw open the front door, and barreled outside, intent on taking out whoever the hell had dared to disturb her rest and trespass on her property.
Silence met her. Utter stillness.
Adrenaline racing through her veins, she spun in a circle on the front lawn—sharp eyes taking in every untrampled blade of grass, every undisturbed leaf—and found no interloper.#p#分页标题#e#
Yet someone was there. She could feel it. She just couldn’t see him. A friend of the fifth vampire perhaps? A minion of a new king?
Tilting her head back, she drew in a deep breath, seeking her prey’s scent.
Fresh blood.
Fury filling her—damned vampires tainting her sanctuary with their presence!—she raced around to the back of the house and jerked to a halt.
Shock seized her.
A long, muscled male, garbed only in black leather pants, sprawled facedown on the ground where he had tumbled from the roof. Once beautiful wings lay crumpled atop him, broken and twisted and bloodied.
“Zach!”
In a flash, she knelt by his side. He looked far worse than he had in either of the dreams. And these weren’t the kinds of wounds one would sustain in battle. He had been tortured. She could almost see the bones in his wrists where they had been cut by whatever restraints had been used to incapacitate him. His flesh had been laid open by whip and blade in too many places to count.
Dropping her shoto swords, she gently covered the bloodied hand closest to her with one of her own, then brushed his tangled raven locks back from his face with the other. “Zach?”
No response.
“Zach, can you hear me? It’s Lisette.”
One of his eyelids twitched, then opened. The other was so swollen his lashes barely lifted.
Lisette lowered her head to the ground beside his so he could see her.
Brown eyes, so dark they appeared black, met hers and struggled to focus.
His hand moved under hers, turning so he could curl his fingers around hers.
“This had better not be another fucking fantasy,” he muttered.
She smiled, despite her worry. “It isn’t.”
His eyes closed. His grip on her fingers slackened.