Clad in clothes that weren’t mine, I sat at a table I didn’t recognize.
The dress I wore was from a different era and made from black lace. The neckline swooped from the ball of each shoulder to dip into a vee between my breasts, leaving my clavicle and shoulders bare. Strangely, the sleeves were long, coming to a point on each wrist. A corset cinched in my waist and the full skirt spilled to either side of my chair.
Though beautiful, it wasn’t something I would ever have picked for myself.
So, it felt strange to be wearing it in my dream.
Distracted by that thought, I touched the table in front of me. The wood felt disconcertingly real under my fingers.
The table was set with silver and gold platters. In front of me was a bowl with a deep red liquid inside.
I didn’t have to taste it to know what it was. Blood.
“Why am I having so many weird dreams about blood lately?”
Was my subconscious trying to tell me something?
The clinking sound of metal against metal distracted me from my thoughts.
There was a sense of disconnection as I took in the person dangling from his wrists. A chain was wrapped around each arm and attached to a rafter overhead.
I couldn’t make out the person’s features with the way his head slumped forward, his white-blond hair falling over his shoulder to veil his face. But I didn’t need to see what was behind that hair to know who was in front of me.
Connor. My brother.
“This is not a good dream,” I whispered, feeling unease in the back of my mind. The horror that waited like an evil thing to devour me if I dared let myself stray in that direction.
I took in Connor’s unconscious body, that strange detachment still affecting me as I registered the red slashes on his limbs and chest.
He’d lost his shirt and shoes since the last time I’d seen him, leaving his torso bare.
His hair stirred and I realized there was something behind him. I hadn’t seen it before because of my preoccupation with Connor, but now that I did it was impossible to unsee.
Thin arms cradled Connor to the desiccated body of the vampire behind him.
Ahrun had filled out a little since his feeding in the Blue Pepper, but he still looked more like a cadaver than a person. His skin was dehydrated, stretched tight over his bones. His features were sunken in, making the bones of his face stand out in stark relief.
His gaze shifted to mine with a suddenness that made my pulse jump. Even the haze-like quality of the dream wasn’t enough to fully suppress my fear.
“You have a habit of straying into spaces you shouldn’t be,” a cultured voice at odds with the bag of skin and bones in front of me said. “This is the second time you’ve invaded my psyche.”
Connor stirred, his gaze unfocused as he lifted his head to see who Ahrun was talking to. His eyes slid right past me without registering my presence.
“What have you done to him?” I asked.
Ahrun unlatched from Connor’s neck. I made a small sound as blood trickled out of the wound; he didn’t bother to close it as he stepped around Connor. His movements stuttered and stopped in a creepy fashion as he slunk toward me. “Are you brave because you think this is a dream or is it just who you are?”
I was silent as he drew near. More than anything, I wanted to go to Connor’s side, but my limbs wouldn’t obey my commands no matter how I strained.
Something was rendering me immobile.
I was helpless to avoid Ahrun’s touch as he picked up a piece of my hair and played with it the same way Liam had earlier in the day.
“Not going to answer me?”
“I’d say it’s a little of both,” I said stiffly, willing to entertain the scary as fuck ancient until I knew whether this was an actual dream or something else.
“I never thought that old man would have a child,” Ahrun mused. “He swore he wouldn’t subject any of his bloodline to his fate. I guess Brin changed his mind after all.”
