Page 45 of Taming His Vampire Mate

“Why would I do that? Also, again,how? I’m in Rookwood with you.”

“Given what you tried to do to James, I wouldn’t put much past you. If you want something, you clearly have no problem doing whatever it takes. No consent needed.”

Shame flashed through me at the reminder of what I had tried to do, and I worked to keep it off my face. I doubted I succeeded, because he gave me an oddly speculative look.

“These dreams are a wolf thing,” I said, forcing my voice even instead of choked with rage and shame. “When we meet the person who’s supposed to be ours, we share our dreams with them.”

“You mean wolves literally share dreams with their mates?” His expression turned so abruptly dismayed that it chased away my anger. I couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him. He blinked rapidly, his mouth forming an adorable little ‘O’ of surprise.

“I see,” he said. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, no. If we’re both really here, then I really just…”

His expression went stricken.

“This was a natural response.” The misery on his face grated like fingernails on a chalkboard—or the acrid smell of vinegar—far too sharp for a wolf’s senses. Seeing him unhappy was worse than either. I hated it. “That’s part of this, right? If we’re fated, we’ll be attracted to each other. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“For how long?” he demanded.

His question made no sense. “For how longwhat?”

“How long will we share our dreams like this?”

I hesitated.

He wouldn’t like the answer. “According to pack lore—every night, until the day we die.”

Wrong thing to say.

The vampire stared back, eyes wide. Then, without warning, he pinched his arm, and the dream vanished.

I bolted awake. I’d fallen asleep right there in the armchair.

Thierry shot up in bed an instant later, his golden hair mussed with sleep, his jaw slack with sheer, unadulterated horror.

Forcing a too-innocent smile onto my face, I yawned, stretched, and said, “It could always be worse, right?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN || THIERRY

It couldn’t have been worse.

If what Jeremy had told me in the dream was true, there was no escaping him. He’d find me every single night while I slept—for as long as we both lived.

How long did wolves live?

I had a sneaking suspicion it was much longer than humans. On the plus side, wolves were mortal. His lifespan could be shortened—a thought growing more tempting by the moment.

How was this even possible?

But I already knew, didn’t I? The same way I’d recognized him the instant I saw him. We were having these dreams because Jeremy was—

No.

I shoved that thought away with extreme prejudice. Nothing good could come from it. The dreams were some strange wolf magic I hadn’t been aware of. Mostly because what I knew about werewolves could fit inside a thimble, with room left over. They were the most reclusive of supernatural creatures.

Jeremy was smarter than I’d given him credit for. He didn’t immediately bring up the dream, even though I’d have bet any amount of money it was the only thing either of us was thinking about.

Instead, he stood and, in a brisk tone, said, “All right, we need to see if there are any live ones left in town. We’ve got about four hours until sunset. No sense wasting any more time.”

Then he set off without another word.