Chapter Nineteen
Ava
Iwas dreamingof Macgrath again. That damn vampire had been invading my sleep too often lately.
Though I would never admit it, I’d actually begun to look forward to it.
The way he stared at me in those dreams was intoxicating. Bewitching. He looked at me as though I were everything. The sun, the moon, and the stars. The universe itself.
He looked at me as though he loved me completely and couldn’t believe I was real.
In this particular dream, I was lying on the bed, facing him. While I was beneath the blankets, he wasn’t. He lay on top of them. One arm was bent beneath his head and the other stretched across the bed so that he clasped my hand in his. I looked down and realized that I’d pulled his hand into my chest, cradling the back of it against my heart.
My eyes traveled back to Macgrath’s face in repose. With his features softened in sleep, he looked like a statue of Eros, slumbering as Psyche looked on.
The analogy made me uncomfortable for a moment. Was I Macgrath’s Psyche?
Then again, this was a dream, so it shouldn’t matter. But somehow it did.
As a witch, I knew that dreams held power. They might bring foresight of a horrible event. Or create a bond between two creatures. Such as a vampire and a witch.
No, this wasn’t a harmless dream created by my subconscious.
Slowly, I uncurled my fingers from his. I would pinch my arm and wake myself up before the dream could progress.
But when I moved, his eyes flew open and his hand tightened on mine. He cleared his throat, his grip loosening just a bit.
“Hey,” he greeted me softly. “How are you feeling?”
This wasn’t a dream at all. It was reality. I tried to think. How did I end up in a strange room, on a strange bed, with Macgrath?
In a rush, the memories flooded me.
I sat straight up, jerking my hand from his. “Savannah!”
Before I could slide out of bed, his hands clasped my shoulders and held me in place.
“Shhh, she’s okay. She’s sleeping. You helped Kerry bind her to Rhys, remember?”
I did remember. As he said the words, the image of Kerry kneeling over Savannah’s scorched body came floating back to me and my stomach turned.
“I want to see her,” I demanded.
Macgrath moved and his face appeared in front of mine as he crouched on the bed. “It’s three in the morning, Ava. She needs to sleep and to heal. If there’s a problem, Rhys will call for us.”
I stared at him for a moment, fighting my urge to fling his hands away and go find Savannah so that I could see for myself that she was fine.
Finally, I relented. He was right. She needed the rest and Rhys wouldn’t appreciate it if I barged into their room and disturbed her.
“Fine,” I sniffed.
The corners of his mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile that disappeared almost immediately. “Are you thirsty?” he asked.
At his question, I realized that my mouth was dry and there was a faintly metallic taste on my tongue. “Yes,” I murmured, my voice hoarse.
He released one of my shoulders and reached over to the nightstand to grab a bottle of water. I was grateful that he cracked the lid for me because my hands felt shaky and weak.
I nearly dropped the bottle when I took it and his hands wrapped around mine, helping me lift it to my mouth. I swallowed half the bottle before pushing it back toward him.
