“My mother was screaming for help. The whole cottage was on fire.”
She stood, trying to gather her thoughts.
“It was just a dream,” Lucius said, but she shook her head in denial.
“That was too real.”
She recalled the vision—how the flames had heated her skin and licked her neck.
“It was so real,” she said, pacing back and forth.
“Let me get you some water.”
She was so frazzled that she allowed Lucius to lead her out of the bedroom and into the living room, where she sat on the sofa. Wiley chirped after her, sensing her distress, and nuzzled into her lap.
“What if something happened to them?” Tavia's voice cracked.
“Don't think that way. I'm sure they're fine. It's just a night terror.”
Lucius went to the pitcher on the counter and poured her a cup of water. He brought it over and sat beside her, handing it to her. The charming, slick demeanor he usually wore was replaced with a serious expression.
“Just breathe, sip some water, and tell me what happened.”
She hastily drank the liquid, almost choking on it. She wiped the water dribbling from the corners of her mouth and placed the cup on the small table.
“I was home,” she said. “Outside the house . . . the cottage was on fire. My father—I don't know where he was. But my mother . . . her screams, her awful screams. It sounded like she was burning alive.”
Lucius reached over and placed a hand on her arm.
“I'm not a dream expert,” he said, “but we were just talking about your family—how you left. Maybe this is guilt.”
“Guilt for abandoning them?” Tavia answered. “It's been two years since I've returned home. What if something’s happened to them? What if they're already dead?”
She stood, facing the fireplace, and sobbed—months of guilt washing over her for staying away too long, for never checking in on her parents.
Lucius came up behind her, rubbing her arms and shoulders.
“Do you want to return home?”
Of course, she wanted to.
She needed to see if they were okay. But she also had a job to do, and what if this was just her guilt manifesting in a nightmare? It wasn’t the first time she had one. It certainly wasn’t the firsttime she had woken up screaming.
“I don’t know,” she said with defeat, her shoulders sagging.
“It’s not the first time I’ve had a nightmare,” she admitted. “I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
She hugged herself, and Lucius rubbed her arms but made no move to be closer. Yet, she desperately wanted a hug. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged her, and that realization made her cry even harder.
Sensing the ache within her, Lucius wrapped his arms around her. His skin was warm, and she wondered if that warmth came from the fire element within him. She didn’t think any vampyre could ever feel as warm as him.
“I can go if you send me,” he said.
“I just . . .” she tried to organize her frazzled thoughts. She was so tired and drained of emotion. The nightmares always wore her down. “But it was just a dream, right?”
She turned and wrapped her arms around Lucius. He froze slightly, surprised, but then melted into theembrace, hugging her back and resting his head on top of hers.
“Tell me what you want,” he asked softly, and suddenly, the things she wanted seemed very improper.
