Page 114 of Loreblood

We fought two fullblooded vampires and lived to tell the tale, for True’s sake.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Garro gave me one of his customary tilted smiles and said, “I daresay I’m wearier than even you. I’m the one who went boom, after all.”

I chuckled and nodded, dipping my chin to look at the ground. My shoulders slumped. Deep in my heart, I knew the sensual moment from before had passed. Once we left the confinces of the temple I’d lost any chance at frolicking with Garroway Kuffich. At least for now.

Probably for the best. I hardly know the dhampir.

Garroway stepped in front of me. My heart skipped a beat when his shadow cast over me. With my head still bowed, a soft kiss pressed against my forehead.

I inhaled sharply and looked up.

Garroway was already walking up the stairs to the other bedroom. “Fair morning, little honey badger. It’s my hope you carry me through my dreams, just as you carried me through Nuhav.”

His words melted into me. The grayskin seemed poetic at times, unlike any man I’d met before.

My heart kept ringing in my ears for the next thirty seconds. I watched his swaggering gait as he ascended the steps, until he was gone. My thighs reflexively squeezed together against a sudden thrum deep in my belly, and I chewed the inside of my cheek.

You sly bastard, you.

When I finally went horizontal with a sigh, laying my head down, I was out within minutes. Despite the adrenaline from the evening’s activities, once my fight-or-flight crashed, I crashed even harder. My sleep was restful and deep, dreamless.

The same couldn’t be said for my roguish, charming half-vampire. During the morning, a yell woke me. At first I couldn’t be sure if it had come from my dreams. Then the muffled cry happened again, directly above me, and I knew Garroway was having nightmares.

I winced at the painful sounds.Hopefully those aren’t the dreams of me he was talking about.

A stray line of sunlight cut into the dwelling from the single window. I closed my eyes . . . and finally had dreams of my own as I drifted back to sleep.

The sunflower in the window, swishing to and fro from the breezy, wintry morning. The rain turning into spilled blood that splattered the sunflower’s petals and transformed the beautiful flower into a grotesque mockery of itself. My eyes in the reflection of the window, redder than they’d ever been before—

My eyes tore open and I sat up with a start.

Sunlight no longer slanted into the dwelling. It was dark save the light of two candles in the room. I had slept another handful of hours after being woken by Garroway’s day-screams.

Garroway sat on the chest where the clay pots had resided. His arms were crossed and he leaned back against the wall, eyes downcast. A shadow from the nearest candle flickered against the lower half of his face, giving him a fierce expression.

“Morning,” I croaked, screwing up my features. “Erm . . . evening.”

His smile was short and clipped, lacking the liveliness I was used to.

My brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed my eyes of sleep. “I heard your nightmares—daymares?—this afternoon.”

“Yes. That was unexpected. I haven’t had actual dreams in, well, decades. It’s not something vampires are accustomed to having.”

“That’s odd.” I didn’t know what else to say or why he was telling me this. We had grown rather close in a short amount of time, for him to be telling me about the everyday customs of vampires.They don’t dream?

“Quite odd, lass.” His head rolled back on his shoulders. “In my dream, bizarre things took place. I was speaking with mymaster. Then his voice receded and . . . crackled? Like it was fizzling away. Before long, I couldn’t hear Skar at all.”

“Even stranger. I’m sorry, Garro. That sounds trying.”

“The next moment,” he continued, ignoring my apology, “I was staring out from the eyes of a damned rodent. A field mouse, I believe, scampering across a bloody pasture. At the sound of a screech, I looked up as an owl wrapped its talons around me and everything went black.” His face lowered, confusion in his eyes. “What do you make of that, little honey badger?”

I shrugged. “No idea. Are you implying my blood had something to do with your sleep terrors?”

“I’m implying nothing,” he snapped. “Only wondering.” He didn’t seem as spirited as the evening before, and it made me sad. I liked that Garroway. This one seemed frustrated. I would’ve probably been frustrated too if I’d had confusing dreams for the first time in decades.

The grayskin stood from the chest, cracking his knuckles. His skin looked completely fine and he wore a fresh tunic. It was amazing, his wiry muscles clean from any wounds or burns. He pulled at his chin, deep in contemplation. “Perhaps they were premonitions.”