The night breeze was chilly, but both of them radiated fierce heat.
There was a rushing in my ears, a flush in my cheeks.
From the way they were breathing heavily, I wasn’t the only one affected by the proximity.
In slow motion, Kharon reached forward and traced his fingers over my jaw, his touch a trail of fire. I gasped as his thumb lingered on my mouth. He licked his lips, gaze ravaging.
“Kharon?” I breathed out softly.
He closed his eyes, his chest heaving. “Carissima,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I want to devour you—”
“Please do,” I whispered.
Kharon pulled his hand away from my face and wrenched himself away from me. He pressed his tattooed knuckle into his mouth and bit down as he stared at me through hooded eyes.
His expression was feral.
Augustus’s fingers tightened on my arm, his hips pressed against me, and something hard dug into the lower curve of my back.
“You know the sinful things we want to do to you,” Augustus whispered silkily into my ear. “Right?”
I gulped. “Uh, y-yes.”
“Are you ready … to take both of us?” Augustus’s stubble grazed against the side of my face.
He cocooned me with his larger body as Kharon stared down at me hungrily.
“Yes,” I breathed out, heat mounting inside my core.
Augustus inhaled deeply. “Good girl,” he growled into my ear.
I jolted as his grip tightened, turning painful. My gaze locked on the scar tissue where Kharon’s ear used to be.
A confusing jumble of emotions welled up. Before I could identify them, Kharon had stepped back more, and Augustus released me.
“You’re not ready for us,” Kharon said cruelly, his face morphing into a skeleton.
Augustus scowled, blood pouring from both his eyes. “You couldneverhandle the both of us.”
Kharon pointed his hand at my face, his fingers in the shape of a gun.
He pulled the trigger.
Sharp pain exploded through my skull.
I jolted upright in bed, gripping my forehead as sleep dissipated.
The sharp agony in my skull was gone, and there wasn’t so much as a headache, just blissful peace.
It was just a dream.
A nightmare.
Morning light warmed my face, and I flopped back onto Helen’s frilly bedding.
Fluffy Jr. stood next to the bed—we made eye contact—he jumped up and jabbed oversized paws (hooves?) into my stomach.
I coughed, barely surviving my protector’s affection (violent assassination attempt).
