“Have the dreams been better, Chey?” Sarah sipped on her iced coffee and squinted at the dying sun. She idly scratched her elbow.
Cheyenne resisted the urge to dig her nails into her skin. Felt like little worms crawled all over her. Stupid sunshine. “Not really.” She sipped her own chai tea. Doctors always made you come out in the sunshine. Even though you were a vampire. ’Course they didn’t know that. Good thing too, because what they knew could kill them, at least about that. She smiled, her fangs grazing her lip.
Sarah didn’t like that look. Her nose scrunched up. “None of that.”
Had Cheyenne projected? Or did the petite woman know her that well? She put on a calm face she didn’t feel.
“The last few weeks you’ve been restless. The dreams have been worse. None of the human drugs help, do they?” Sarah sat her cup on the wobbly table. “That why you lied to Dr. Martin?”
Sarah had known she lied. The woman did know Cheyenne better than anyone else. Probably a result of sharing the same headspace a while back. “They don’t help.” Nothing did anymore. Her mother, God rest her soul, had never liked for Cheyenne to take the drugs. They interfered with her abilities to “see.” Now that she was a vampire, the drugs were like taking candy. They didn’t affect her at all. She’d been mostly lucid since the beginning of her transformation, but in the last few weeks, had seen evidence she was slipping. That the sickness she had was taking her over even with her vampire powers.
A shiver rocked her. What then? Henri kills you.
No questions asked. She had no illusions about what was to happen if she couldn’t get it together.
Sarah patted her arm. Had she noticed the shudder? “We’ll find a way to make it through this. I promise. It’s probably your settling into your vampire powers that’s making you…” She hesitated.
“No! I wouldn’t say that. Restless. Like I said before.”
Sarah wouldn’t say the C
word. But others would. Cheyenne blew out a breath. Sarah was too nice to speak the word aloud in reference to Cheyenne. Crazy.
It wasn’t so bad a word. Five letters. Strong.
Now there was a word with power.
Not that she’d ever been officially diagnosed. Even this psychiatrist they were seeing now was hesitant to put that label on her. But she’d heard it enough from other people. Along with crazy. Nuts. Out of her mind. She’d heard them all.
Sarah tapped her arm. “Chey.” She shook her head.
Had she been staring into space again with her mouth open? People didn’t like that. It brought attention to her. With her being a vampire, she didn’t want or need attention brought to her. Neither did her new family. Because it would bring attention to all of them.
She forced a smile to her lips. “I’m okay. The dreams will get better.” Maybe but unlikely.
Sarah didn’t look convinced. She’d always been too knowledgeable where Cheyenne was concerned.
Cheyenne had had the most lucid period of her life since she’d become a vampire. Henri had remarked that maybe becoming a vampire had “stabilized the mental illness.”
Until a few weeks ago.
The dreams had begun to take shape and change. She’d always had them. These were different.
They were intense. Real. More reality than anything she’d ever experienced. To the point that sometimes she wanted to live in them. Wanted to stay there instead of facing this blunt, dreary reality where she had to fight the demons in her own head. Conversely, the dreams seemed to whip up those demons who had been sleeping quietly since the moment she’d become more than human.
Cheyenne had read about schizophrenia. Knew when delusions became better than life, it wasn’t good. Yet she also knew
she’d been going under the last few weeks. She wasn’t supposed to have that awareness of her behaviors, but she did. She hadn’t always had this ability to sense her decline into madness. Being a vampire must have given her that. Perhaps her awareness was the only thing that had kept her sane so far.
She turned her head and saw his
face looming before her.
Strong. Proud. His brown eyes shimmered in the light. His long black hair blew in a breeze that she couldn’t feel. His full lips always looked a little on the cruel side. They parted as he spoke to her in a language she didn’t understand. His biceps rolled as he beckoned to her, motioning for her to come to him.
It was the current daydream.
With the man who haunted her dreams and imagination. Had since she was a child. She’d thought she’d found him once. That man had been a pretender.
Now, since this had all started a few weeks ago, she’d been seeing his face instead of seeing him in shadows.
He seemed to want her to come to him in some of the visions. He was always crooking his finger or beckoning to her. When she tried to tell him that she didn’t know where he was, he said it didn’t matter.
Other dreams had a vicious burial of this man and a suicide pact carried out by everyone involved. Not to mention she also had dreams that were of him and her…together. Only these last few weeks, she’d seen his face as he pumped inside of her. As his cock slowly entered her molten depths. His head tossed back in abandon. Bringing her to life…
“Maybe Henri could block the dreams.” Sarah’s voice brought her back to reality, making the man’s face vanish in an instant.
Cheyenne’s chair scraped on the floor as she turned to face her. Words bubbled up in her throat. She managed to squelch them. Could Henri block the thoughts? The daydreams? The real dreams? Would she want him to? “I think we should go home. Maybe after we get there, we can work out. There’s this new stew -- I mean, fishing style -- I mean, fighting style I’ve been wanting to try.” She floundered, trying to get the correct words to come from her mouth. “Then we can dance to the moon.”
Sarah looked at her strangely.
Cheyenne wasn’t making sense again. She bit her lip and took the last sip of her tea. “Let’s go home.” Sarah was her only ally. If she continued to scare Sarah, Nick and the rest would force Sarah’s hand.
“Yes, let’s.” Sarah patted her again.
Cheyenne relaxed. If Sarah was still acting like a sister, then nothing could be as bad as she thought it was.
Sarah tripped over the threshold, but Cheyenne caught her and pushed her on. Cheyenne moved gracefully through the doorway with one look back.
This time the man’s lips mouthed, Oh, but it can,
before he vanished.
* * * * *
Roc’s leg twitched. Tingled.
She rose up around him, long dark hair shimmering along his body like she was a flame to his torch.
He exhaled long and deep. Mimosa. He smelled the heady scent of her surrounding him.
Her face looked upon him from high. Her gleaming white teeth shone through her smile. Her fangs caught the light and glinted.
She was a vampire now. She hadn’t always been.
He reached up his arms for her and caught only air.
She lowered herself down onto him, penetrating herself with his thick cock. The tip eased inside her warm, moist folds.
He hissed at the feel of her surrounding him. Her skin looked so dark against his. She was the color of a deer.
They began to move together, each thrusting against the other as if they couldn’t get close enough. He lifted his body from the ground, pushing himself farther up inside of her. Her fang grazed her lip.
Somehow he managed to flip her over. Get her under him. Where she should have been all along. He didn’t go inside of her. Yet.
He laughed at her startled expression. Leaned down to kiss her heavily, his lips locking onto hers to master her. Bend her to his will. His tongue dueled with hers, wrapping around hers to make her submit to him. He pulled back to look at this beauty.
Took one hand and tied her to the bed with ropes that had appeared. Grabbed the other to secure it as well.
He stared down into brown unflinching eyes. She always met his gaze. Gave him tit for tat. And a tit for his mouth when it counted.
He glanced farther down her body to her bared breasts. Perky and rose-tipped, the small, fat mounds called to him. They were breasts that begged for touch and were more than a mouthful.
He lifted up on one hand and let the other explore. Squeezed her.
She let out the soft sigh. The one that made him feel like a king among men. The one that revved his libido.
With a strangled moan, he leaned down to draw her nipple into his mouth. He suckled, tracing his tongue around the center.
She bucked against him, lifting her body up and down against his. She pressed herself against his erection.
He moved slightly, and his tip penetrated her. Slipped in only a little, but it was enough to make his senses flutter.
Her warm wetness clamped down on him like a vise.
He moved up farther and slammed back down against her. He could feel her heat rubbing against him.
She moved up to meet his thrust and drove him all the way inside of her. Like a furnace, she scorched him.
One leg slid up his side.
The other leg crept up the other side.
She tried to apply pressure to keep him down inside of her. Keep him where she wanted him.
“Ahh ahh.” He moved the way he wanted to. Slow. Steady. Not harsh and wild. Something to mix it up. Wouldn’t let her control his actions.
She moaned. “Marroc.”
He loved her throaty voice. The way her body responded to him. The way she said his name in some accent he didn’t recognize.
He’d found bliss in her body many times these last few years, especially the last few weeks when it had seemed more real. She was his one pleasure. His one seduction. She took him for what he was, accepted him, and let him inside of her in the most intimate ways possible.
He looked at her closed eyes. “Open your eyes.”
Her eyes popped open.
She always obeyed him too. Another reason why she was irresistible. Whatever he asked, she provided.
Her red mouth caught his attention. She licked her lips, making them shine. One fang peeked through her smile.
A self-indulgent smile.
His pace sped up. Looking into her loving face, he couldn’t help but come a little undone. That look was for him and him alone.
In and out. In and out. He took stock in the rhythm. That would keep him from coming too soon.
He slanted his mouth to kiss her quickly again, even as he pounded into her, taking her along the edge with him.
It was the second time she’d called his name. Usually she groaned and moaned but never said a name.
He didn’t know her name. Suddenly, knowing what to call her became important. It would be important later. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.
He never ignored senses like that. “What’s your name?” He rocketed down into her, body spasming. Needed to know now before she disappeared.
The first name suited. The latter name not so much.
“Are you real?”
He laughed, the sound a whisper on the breeze. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Another lick of her lips. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.” She thrust up against him again, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. “I met a pretender. I thought he was you. It was before I saw your face.” She’d told him that before. “I need you. I need you to come to me. Now.” She’d never asked him that before. Never asked him for anything. “I’m losing myself.”
He looked down into eyes that had captured sorrow. Heartbreaking eyes. Brimming with tears. He growled. He would hurt those who hurt her. “I’m almost there. Almost free.” He wiped her tear away with his thumb.
She clenched her inner pussy muscles around him.
He shuddered in delight as his orgasm started. Waves of pleasure came through him. Damn her. It was too soon. He hadn’t gotten her to climax yet. His fists clenched in frustration. She should have orgasmed first.
Her gaze shot through him again. “I need you. Please come.” Her voice rose with desperation and a healthy dose of fear.
He stroked her face. His body twitched. “I’m almost free. Cheyenne. I will find you.”
“Chey…” Another voice.
It sounded faraway.
She glanced to her side at something he couldn’t see. “I have to go now.” She looked miserable. As if she faced the worst torture imaginable.
“Chey…” The voice grew more insistent.
Any voice that made her look like that was an instant enemy. He gnashed his teeth together, wanting to silence whoever was taking her away from him.
He’d never heard the voice before today. Never wanted to hear it again. He clenched his fists. If only he could smite them. Keep her here with him.
“Roc, I have to go now.” Cheyenne began to fade from his arms. One minute she was there, tangible. The next, his fingers were going through her. And the next, she was gone.
“Bloody fucking son of a bitch.” Roc grabbed for her, the mystery woman, but it was too late. She’d already faded from his view. The voice faded too.
His hands sunk in by his sides. The come began to dry around his cock from where he’d pumped it out in orgasm. Instead of in her.
That voice would have to pay for taking her away from him. They had to have been going to torture her…
He blinked, looking around his surroundings for the first time in a long time.
Blinked some more.
Looked around his surroundings.
For the first time in a thousand years, Roc was awake. He wasn’t in the trancelike dream state of healing sleep. The state of rejuvenation.
He’d regained consciousness.
He was in a box.
His hands went to the ceiling, punching on it. Began to rip at the boards above him.
He wouldn’t be in a box for long.
Soon he’d be free. Even sooner he’d be tracking down one Cheyenne Smith. For some real, undreamlike fucking.
Was she “the one” he’d been waiting for?
Only one way to find out.
Heaven help anyone who got in his way.