Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
I let my eyes drift closed. I don’t need to dream this day. I have her in my arms.
Chapter Twenty
Bronwyn
I come awake slowly, in small snatches of reality laced with the sweetness of the dreams I had.
I keep my eyes closed. I don’t want to leave this place where I grabbed my Dark Ones and held on for dear life. When I open my eyes, they’ll be gone again and I’ll either be in the after or still in a dank cell awaiting the time when the executioner will call my name.
A shaft of sunlight is warm on my face and I try to turn. I try but I’m caught. My eyes fly open, and I look into seriously blue eyes.
“Hello, sunshine.”
I sit up in bed and scream.
There’s movement behind me as something large bangs to the floor. A man. Another man. I’m in bed with two men. Was. Since one is on the floor now.
“Bronwyn? Bronwyn, love, you need to stop. Someone will think we’re killing you, and that isn’t going to be good for anyone.” The dark-haired man cajoles me as though it’s perfectly normal to be lying in bed stark naked with two men.
“We’re not killing her, but damn me I think I might have broken my tailbone falling out of bed. Who thought this place would be big enough?” The second man brushes a hand through his hair and then stands, his enormous male organ bouncing and pointing straight at me. He frowns down and makes no move to cover himself. “What’s wrong, a chumann?”
What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I went utterly mad. That’s what is wrong. All of my life I was told I was insane, and now I know it to be true. I lost my mind and now I’m pulling my dream men straight out of my head.
“Where am I?” I clutch the sheet to my chest.
The man who fell to the floor stares at me, his eyes narrowing in obvious irritation. He’s his brother’s twin, but three long scars mar his face. Why do I remember touching those scars, kissing them and feeling this man melt underneath my tenderness? He doesn’t look like a man who needs tenderness now. “You’re with your mates. Is there a reason you’re hiding those breasts? They belong to me, and I want to see them.”
And my dream men are suddenly unreasonable pricks, so all I can think is that I have a masochistic inner soul. “I was in my cell at the jail.”
“Yes,” the other one says, his hand on my shoulder. I pull away. He sighs and continues his explanation. “You were in your cell, but they gave you a potion and took you to the square.”
Vague, nightmarish images float back to my brain. I was dragged and drugged and bound. I have an image of someone calling me “princess,” but then he fled and left me to the wolves. Micha was there, snarling at me, forcing poison into my veins. And then the flames came. I cried out for someone to save me, and that must be when my mind broke. I take a long breath. What really happened? Did I get away or is this what happens to the dead? Are my ashes already floating in the wind?
“She doesn’t believe we’re real.”
“How can she not believe we’re real? We’ve been in her dreams since she was a child.”
The unscarred one shrugs. Shim. I named him Shim. “I don’t know. Only Gillian believed us. Perhaps she had no one to believe her, no one to help figure out what was happening.”
I draw my knees to my chest. “Gillian’s here?”
“She’s downstairs,” the one I named Lach replies.
There’s something about Gillian I need to remember, but I can’t quite catch it, and I keep getting distracted by man parts. They’re everywhere, and neither man seems willing to do a thing about it. “Shouldn’t you cover those things up?”
Those things gave me such pleasure, sinking deep inside. It’s all a dream, of course. Except I’m sore. Really sore. My body has a pleasant ache.
Shim smiles and gives me a wink I find all too sexy. “I don’t want to cover it up. I’d rather use it on you, love.”
Something heats up inside. Mingled in with the nightmare images are other softer, sweeter memories. Lach working over me, sharing his pleasure with me. Shim kissing my neck, lavishing affection before he sinks his fangs deep.
Fuck it all, he bit me. I shoot off the bed, practically jumping toward the mirror. I stare at myself. There it is. My neck is smooth and unblemished with the exception of two perfectly delicate marks. Almost completely faded, but I see them. I was fed upon, and if I remember correctly, I liked it.
What in all the planes of existence is happening?
“You’re vampires.” It’s the only explanation. They’re royal vampires. There’s only one problem with the scenario. I turn to them, still trying to pull the sheet around me. “Why did you bite me? I’m not a consort.”