by Sotia Lazu
Last night, Alex called. He’s been in San Francisco since he left. Nothing definitive has come up, but he believes he’s on the trail of at least one member of Ádísa and Willoughby’s army of undead hotties.
It was the second time he called. The first was just to say he landed safely. We didn’t speak about us this time either. I’ve come to realize there really can’t be an ‘us’ right now. I hate to say it, but he made the right choice in leaving. Distance has to soothe the hurt that’s there. Soften its edges. When we can look at each other without seeing the past, maybe we can start building again, if there’s enough foundation left. He seems to be on the right track to finding himself.
I turned in soon after we hung up. The downside to living with my parents is that I’m worn out well before midnight, and tonight was no exception. The moment my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.
I lie on a beach chair, a strawberry daiquiri in one hand, a romance novel in the other. The warmth of the sun caresses my skin, and a light breeze ruffles my hair from time to time. The only sound disrupting my sunbathing is the gentle, languid sloshing of the sea against the shore.
I’ve had this dream before. I know the book is blank, but the frozen daiquiri tastes like heaven, the sweetness and tartness of fresh strawberry elevated by the kick of alcohol.
I sense a presence that wasn’t here last time, though. I look around, and here he is Constantine, strolling along the beach toward me.
He stands over me, in a pair of scruffy jeans he’d never wear if I were awake. No shirt. No shoes. The sand gleams golden between his toes, but it’s the pale perfection of his broad chest that draws my gaze. “I miss you,” he says. “When are you coming home?”
He feels so real, I know I’m not dreaming of him. He’s sharing my dream—or is he usurping it?
I put my drink aside, lower the book to my lap, and push my sunglasses atop my head. “I thought this was supposed to be me-time,” I say squinting up.
“You can have you-time at the mansion.” He shades his eyes with his palm, and a cloud covers the bright sun, shedding a grey tint over my surroundings.
“Are you controlling my dream? That’s not playing fair.” I’m not upset, just curious. “You said you didn’t know how.”
“I am just doing what I have always done,” he says. “Watching out for you.”
“Pretty stalkery of you.” Part of me wonders at my calm acceptance. Then again, not everything has to make sense in dreams. “Now if you don’t mind, I have several months of tanning to make up for.”
“This is a dream.”
“Exactly. Only place I can tan. So unless you’re here to put lotion on my back, or have something else to fess up to…” I give him a little finger wave.
I expect him to make some remark about the lotion, but his expression closes, becomes more guarded. He crosses his arms, and rests his chin on his chest. “I promised to never again keep something significant from you, and something came up that I believe falls into that category.”
“Next time use the phone.” I reach for my book again, but he drops to his knees and traps my hand between both of his.
“Ruby visited my dream,” he says. “She heard about Willoughby.”
That stings. “She could have called me. I know you two go back a long time, but I’m her granddaughter. You’d think that’d count for someth—”
“Cherry, she says you could become human again.”
“What?” My whining is forgotten in an instant. Hope blossoms in my heart, but I stomp on it before it takes root. There’s no turning back from being undead. If there was, I’d have at least heard rumors about it. “That’s not possible.” Is it?
He snaps his head to one side, then the other. “Shit. I must wake up. Tell nobody of this, and don’t call me. We can’t talk about it over the phone. Just come home.”
I nod, and he’s gone.
I need to wake up.
Now.
The End
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
About the Author
Sotia’s making do with Greek reality, while writing and mostly thinking in English.
She loves romances with a twist and urban fantasy novels, always with vivid erotic elements. Her favorite characters to write are not conventional hero-material at first glance, and she enjoys making them fight for their happiness.
Sotia shares her life and living quarters with her husband, their son, and two rescue dogs, one of which may be part-pony. Sappy movies make her bawl like a baby, and she wishes she could take in all the stray dogs in the world.
Also, she hates mornings!
Catch up with Sotia on her blog, her Facebook page, or Twitter. Find out more about her and her books on her website.
