CHAPTER TWELVE || JEREMY
I sat in the darkened room, with Thierry in bed a few feet from me, feeling some kind of way. My wolf had already settled in my chest, still and peaceful, halfway to sleep. It was simpler than I, content just knowing our vampire was safe and getting the rest he needed.
Strange, how this was shaping up.
Thierry kept surprising me.
It was laughable, at this point, that I could ever have imagined him a monster. He kept proving the opposite with practically every other word out of his mouth. His horror at what had happened here had been palpable.
And his reasons for wanting to stay? To put himself in harm’s way?
To protect any innocent people still left in the town. I had no doubt in my mind he’d stay after nightfall to do exactly that, even if it meant placing himself in terrible danger.
Even in the short time I’d spent with him, I was increasingly certain Thierry was the exact opposite of a bad person. Despite his iciness, his cutting way of speaking, and his overall archness, I now knew he cared far more than he let on. About pretty much everything.
The mate-bond was progressing rapidly. It had already begun revealing his emotions to me. I was starting to understand what made Thierry tick.
At the end of the day, he was a hero.
An arch, irritated one, but a hero nonetheless.
Ironic, that he’d end up mated to me.
Hell, I actually was a monster. I had done monstrous things, at least. The fact that I hadn’t succeeded didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
I’d forced the bite on James last year. Seeing the handsome human man so alone in his grief, I had immediately wanted to make him my mate.
I even convinced myself I could make his pain go away—that it would be better for him, that he’d have a family, a pack. But it had never been about him.
It had been about me.
I’d wanted him to make my grief vanish, as though that were possible. As though I could swap James for Ian and somehow stop the pain of losing the best thing that had ever happened to me. And if the dark-haired vampire hadn’t smelled the human’s blood and healed him—what then?
If he hadn’t stopped me from doing it again, James would’ve become a wolf too. And I might have done worse before I came to my senses. What James told me that night, when he finally managed to talk sense into me, was true. He would have hated me forever.
And I would’ve hated myself, too.
It was hurt I had caused—not only to James but to Reed, Daniel, the twins, and everyone else in my pack.
I had forced them to obey me, even though they wanted nothing to do with it.
And hell, if the dark-haired vampire—Pierce, I grudgingly reminded myself—was anything like Thierry, I had to feel at least a little sorry for what I’d done to him as well. After all, I had nearly killed him.
And I had no idea how I could live up to any of it, how I could make it right.
Before meeting Thierry, my answer to that had been simple: I couldn’t.
The only right thing left was to keep the hell away—from them, from everyone.
And now that I knew the bleeds were about to begin again, the only right choice was to make sure the pack was in better hands than mine.
Reed never would have done what I had. He was the better wolf. The better man, too.
But did I still feel the same way now?
Could I still let Reed end me, now that I knew Thierry? Now that I understood the blond-haired vampire wasn’t just not-a-monster, but possibly a noble soul beneath all that ice and venom? Maybe too good for me. Something I never would have believed before now.
But did it matter how I felt?
Leaving the pack to isolate myself in the woods when there was no danger was one thing. Leaving them weakened and without a true alpha right before nightmarish creatures started slithering into this world was another.
I didn’t have a choice. Wolves are connected in subtle but real ways. And the magic that would allow Reed to be alpha couldn’t pass to him unless he defeated me. Or unless I no longer drew breath.
Which meant it had to be done, sooner or later. But maybe later. After I helped Thierry with Rookwood.
After all, the bleeds hadn’t begun yet. Lindsey would have called me if they had.
And until then, I sure as shit wasn’t leaving my vampire’s side. Not when I knew he was about to be in terrible danger. Even if he didn’t want me here, I wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet. I’d ensure his safety, even if I couldn’t keep him in the long term.
Because I had sensed enough of his emotions already to know: if there was even a remote chance a single survivor remained in Rookwood, Thierry wouldn’t leave. No matter what happened. No matter the cost.
He was a hero. He wasn’t like me at all.
* * *
I must have drifted off at some point, too.
Because the vampire looked even more stunning in the dream. Or perhaps now that I understood he wasn’t just capable of feeling, but actually a good person, I was finally allowing myself to really notice his beauty.
It was deep twilight, on the knife-edge of night.
He stood at the edge of Elizabeth Lake—six miles from my hometown of Crescent Springs—gazing across the glasslike water.
Mountains loomed above it, impossibly large and capped with snow.
The scene was lit with fireflies and motes of pure electric-blue magic, precisely the shade of his eyes.
And in that ethereal light, he didn’t look angry, dismissive, or cold.
Instead, in profile, he looked softer in the gathering dark. More open, almost innocent. Perhaps more of the man he had been before becoming a vampire.
He turned to me as I approached, his eyes searching mine. “What is this place?”
His tone was deceptively neutral, but I wasn’t convinced. Tension vibrated through him, like he might bolt at any moment.
“This is Elizabeth Lake,” I said gently, the way you soothe a frightened animal. “It’s near the pack’s commune in the Cascades. One of my favorite places, which is probably why it’s here.”
“I’m not sure I understand. What’s happening?”
“We’re dreaming,” I told him simply.
He blinked, lips parting in surprise. He stared at me, too startled to be hostile, then broke away and took in the scene with a more speculative look.
“I don’t remember how I got here,” he said slowly. “I was in a motel room before this. Now I’m suddenly outside.” He frowned at me, strangely thoughtful. “You’re right, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes,” I breathed, watching him. His voice, sweet and smooth, was delicious to hear. I wanted to hang on his every word, even dipped in cyanide as they often were. “It happens every once in a while.”
The vampire truly was beautiful, wasn’t he? With those strange blue eyes, his golden hair, flawless skin, and almost aristocratic features, he seemed ethereal—a creature made of magic and twilight. Yet there was something raw about him, too. Something wounded. Outrageously vulnerable.
I could sense it, deep in my bones. Hurt within him that begged to be protected, at all costs.
Awe gripped me again.
This was a mate dream. And now that I understood who Thierry was, it felt different. I wanted to talk to him. Truthfully, I wanted him to be mine, even if he couldn’t be.
“Why is this happening?” Thierry demanded, his glare snapping back into place. “How are you doing this?”
“I’m not doing this. And neither are you. We’re doing this. Both of us, together.”
He let out a long, theatrical sigh and shook his head, as if to clear it. “Okay, no. Absolutely not. This is madness.”
I stared at him, incredulous. How could he muster up anything close to dismissiveness? Didn’t he understand we were in the grip of the deepest magic there was? That we were experiencing a miracle together?
I waited for him to go on, but when he didn’t, I prompted, “No?”
He sighed. “Here’s what’s happening: I’m having a lucid dream. I was probably about to have a sex dream about you and somehow became aware that I was dreaming before we could get started.” He flashed me a reproachful look, as though blaming me for that. “You are, unfortunately, very attractive.”
I grinned. “Having sexy thoughts about me, then?”
He rolled his eyes in answer. “Anyway. That’s what this is. A lucid dream. I’m dreaming, but aware. If you live long enough, you’ll have one eventually. I’ve had quite a few.”
“With eight centuries under your belt, I bet that’s true.” I caught a mote of sparkling blue magic in my hand and held it out to him. “You really think this is just an ordinary lucid dream?”
Wonder flashed in Thierry’s eyes as he stared at my outstretched palm.
Then he seemed to shake himself. “Good Lord, what am I doing? Why am I explaining myself to you?” He took a step back. “You’re just a dream figure.”
“A dream figure,” I repeated slowly. What the hell did that mean?
“You’re a figment of my subconscious,” he explained, frowning with speculation.
“You’re not really here. You’re still back in the motel room, keeping watch.
This is just an exceptionally vivid lucid dream.
It’s not real.” Then his gaze darkened, and a smile slid into place.
“Which means anything could happen here.”
Oh.
I swallowed hard.
Well, shit.
He advanced on me, his expression oddly intent. “And since this is a dream, it doesn’t mean anything. I might as well enjoy myself…”
He let it trail off, but I was pretty sure I knew what was on the other side of that dot-dot-dot.
I took a step back, hands up.
“No, Thierry, you don’t understand,” I told him, as he placed his hands on my chest. His palms were oddly warm. The touch felt so good my eyes slid halfway closed, but I forced myself to keep speaking. “This does mean something, because we are both here.”
He slipped his arms around my waist and tilted his head up, his too-blue eyes intent on mine.
“You’re so handsome,” he breathed, his whole expression soft and lit with something akin to longing. “Destiny got one thing right. You’re exactly my type. Physically, at least. I just wish…”
He let it trail off, swallowing.
I felt dismayed at the ragged look on his face.
Even here, in the dreamscape—though he thought I wasn’t real—he still couldn’t let his guard down enough to admit his wants and needs.
His scent wrapped around me, clean and fresh and bright, like the forest after rain.
And his body felt perfect against mine. Solid and warm and real. I began growing hard.
I had made love to him once before. Why not again? Why not now?
The wolf within me stirred. Our mate was here. What were we waiting for? Why weren’t we claiming him?
“Thierry, stop.” I stepped back, my inner wolf whining. It wanted him—wanted to taste him, to feel him beneath us, to make him writhe in ecstasy. It wanted him to belong to us and only us.
But I couldn’t allow that. Not until Thierry understood the reality of the situation. It had to be his choice, not mine.
His gaze dropped to my groin, and a wicked grin spread across his lips. “Why are we stopping? You’re already there, aren’t you? Why not enjoy the moment?”
Thierry pulled me down so my lips brushed his. The wolf inside me whined again at how good it felt. How simple and right.
Thierry pulled back, eyes searching mine with strange intensity. “The first time with you—the real you—was wonderful,” he murmured. “I suppose, if this isn’t really happening, there’s no shame in admitting that, is there? It was one of the best sexual encounters of my life.”
“Me too,” I agreed, my cock aching to repeat it.
“My subconscious painted you as nicer and gentler than the real thing, didn’t it?”
But his words were softened by the way he stroked my cheek with his thumb, his other arm looped around my waist, his body pressed to mine. I could feel he was hard too.
Sounding thoughtful, he added, “Even if you are a sadistic bastard, that doesn’t change anything about the experience. Fate is a mangy twat with a terrible sense of humor.”
The warmth between us popped like a soap bubble.
I pulled away. “Thierry, I need you to stop. This is not a regular dream.”
He paused, brows knitting in confusion. “No offense, but my sex dreams tend to be a bit sexier. Usually less backtalk and more—”
“Because this isn’t a sex dream,” I cut in, exasperated. “You and I are both really here. We’re both lucid and aware, sharing the same dream, at the same time.”
Horror dawned on his face. He stepped back like I’d caught fire.
“That’s impossible!” he sputtered. Then he shot me an accusing look. “Wait, did you cast a spell on me?”
“How the hell would I do that?” I snapped, irritation ripping through me. “I’m a wolf, not a warlock!”
“Then you made someone do it for you!”
“Why would I do that? Also, again, how ? I’m in Rookwood with you.”
“Given what you tried to do to James, I wouldn’t put much past you. If you want something, you clearly have no problem doing whatever it takes. No consent needed.”
Shame flashed through me at the reminder of what I had tried to do, and I worked to keep it off my face. I doubted I succeeded, because he gave me an oddly speculative look.
“These dreams are a wolf thing,” I said, forcing my voice even instead of choked with rage and shame. “When we meet the person who’s supposed to be ours, we share our dreams with them.”
“You mean wolves literally share dreams with their mates?” His expression turned so abruptly dismayed that it chased away my anger. I couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him. He blinked rapidly, his mouth forming an adorable little ‘O’ of surprise.
“I see,” he said. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, no. If we’re both really here, then I really just…”
His expression went stricken.
“This was a natural response.” The misery on his face grated like fingernails on a chalkboard—or the acrid smell of vinegar—far too sharp for a wolf’s senses.
Seeing him unhappy was worse than either.
I hated it. “That’s part of this, right?
If we’re fated, we’ll be attracted to each other. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“For how long?” he demanded.
His question made no sense. “For how long what ?”
“How long will we share our dreams like this?”
I hesitated.
He wouldn’t like the answer. “According to pack lore—every night, until the day we die.”
Wrong thing to say.
The vampire stared back, eyes wide. Then, without warning, he pinched his arm, and the dream vanished.
I bolted awake. I’d fallen asleep right there in the armchair.
Thierry shot up in bed an instant later, his golden hair mussed with sleep, his jaw slack with sheer, unadulterated horror.
Forcing a too-innocent smile onto my face, I yawned, stretched, and said, “It could always be worse, right?”