by Sierra Dean
And perhaps he did as well…she wasn’t sure yet.
She did know she was finding the dreams…very pleasant.
Sometimes they were too brief—a quick conversation, a smile or just some sort of warm awareness of his presence.
Other dreams were more leisurely. He seemed to enjoy scenarios that were strange to her, such as a garden with unusual flowers and strangely carved statues. There was a small lake of fine sand, which fascinated her, as did the sharply tined rake she used to create designs. It was quite mesmerizing, and when she woke after that one, she almost reached for her comm system to see if she could order a tabletop version.
Over the ensuing month, John became a fixture of her nights. Almost a part of her sleep—a part she eagerly anticipated. She carefully utilized her ability to compartmentalize, shutting the door on John and the dreams as she opened the one to her day and her work.
She knew there had to be a connection, of course. As time passed she became more and more convinced that John knew a great deal more than he’d said up to now. But she kept those thoughts firmly tucked away. Her talent for shutting parts of her mind down made her the excellent facilitator she was.
And now it helped protect the curious woman she was becoming.
In her most private moments she acknowledged the fact she was becoming an enamored woman as well.
Had John been real and standing in her bedroom, she’d have had him naked in five seconds and giving her the first of many orgasms in barely five more. He appealed to her on a psychological level, being intriguing, intelligent and humorous. All well and good.
But it was what he did to her on a physical level that shocked her at times. It had been quite a while since she’d felt so aroused by a man. So alive and aware of her own sexuality.
He had a way of looking at her, those stunning blue eyes filled with heat and what she hoped was desire. Because she was pretty damn sure that word could describe the way she looked at him. Either that or pass me a spoon because you’re dessert and I’m about to eat you right up. And lick the plate when I’m done.
The whole lust thing was heating up, Martine realized. Probably not healthy or productive, having a bad case of screaming sweaty thighs for a dream man. In the nebulous sense of the word.
The other annoying feature of her dreams was her total inability to initiate the topic of conversation. She’d tried more than once to ask John about that number he’d told her. About the odd coincidence she’d found in the data-storage division server.
But, as was the way with dreams, her words wouldn’t come out right. And John blithely chatted on, ignoring her attempts to articulate questions. Then he’d do something like touch her hand or brush her cheek, or look at her in that way—and she was lost.
She couldn’t help but realize the sexual attraction between them was growing. She hadn’t been naked with him since that first time. And she was starting to wonder if that was his doing or hers. Who was nervous about what might happen?
She got wet thinking about it. Did dreams get hard-ons? Could they actually get down and dirty? The few brief moments Martine permitted herself to indulge in this train of thought passed rapidly. Then she shut it down. She wasn’t about to take the risk of doing any mental broadcasting of her newly enhanced sexual awareness. Guys tended to pick up on that sort of thing, whether it was pheromones or something else. Give a woman a hot night of sex and the next day men would follow her with their eyes, metaphorically panting. There was probably some scientific rationale for it, and doubtless it had been examined, explained and filed away in the annals of human sexuality.
She didn’t know and didn’t care. She just wanted to make sure she kept her private thoughts exactly that. Private.
The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters
Sierra Dean
Are blind dates supposed to be this bloody?
A Secret McQueen Story
They say it's impossible to find a man in New York City. Secret McQueen needs to find two in one night. Of course, it’ll mean pulling off the impossible—find and kill a displaced rogue vampire without disrupting the first promising date she’s had in ages. As a werewolf hybrid used to walking a fine line of survival in the vampire world, though, Secret eats impossible for breakfast.
Somewhere between hello and the first round of drinks, Secret makes her move. Her target, Hollywood’s biggest star, shouldn’t be hard to spot. Just look for swarms of fans. Except every time her vampire liaison, Holden, helps keep her mission on track, her date runs further off the rails.
Either Holden has a hidden agenda, or he knows more than he’s letting on about her quarry. One way or another, Secret is determined to get her man, and meet Mr. Right. Or die trying.
Warning: This book contains a sword-wielding assassin whose barbs are sharper than her blade, a vampire with serious brooding issues but a skilled tongue, and an A-lister with a bad habit of eating his fans. This novella takes place approximately one year prior to the events of Something Secret This Way Comes.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters
Copyright © 2011 by Sierra Dean
ISBN: 978-1-60928-480-0
Edited by Sasha Knight
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2011
www.samhainpublishing.com
