What Are You Dreaming About?

DEON

"J

ealous?"

My head twizzles toward Donna's sexy drawl. She's wearing a tiny yellow top that could be mistaken for a bra if someone asked. Beyond her toned abs and oversized matching trousers, my eyes land on her polished black toes peeking out from under the hem. That outfit? She should wear itallthe time. That ass, lads,rhaa, it sticks out like a sore thumb. I could chew on it. "That's Fay for me, buttercup. We don't share jealousy."

"That'sTyke'sfor you," she elegantly jests back.

It's like her bronze skin absorbs all the light here. Thischicais god sent, I tell ya. I return her dainty gaze, trying to see through this girl. I think I'm onto something becauseBonnadrifts her eyes away, wetting her lower lip.

I follow this tongue. Pink, fiery, a tip, soft on the full of its plumpness. I watch it go from the left, running steadily over hercherry skin. It stops right before the corner. Now I'm sad because it retreated into its cave at light-speed. What wonders it must have...

"Hey, diablo, what are you dreaming about?"

My horns faintly jitter.Flaming heck, she startled me. Donna's stormy green eyes are driving me nuts. I can hear the thunder coming from them, at which point I know everything about me is bowing before this hurricane wolf.

I'm slowly going into the places in my head where my world is perfect. Maybe it's my drink's fault, or perhaps it's hers. Then again, maybe it's mine, but she's in it. Oh, yes, she is. "You." Shame is pouring out of me. In fact, knowing myself, I'm pretty sure my ears have already turned black.

What's up with all this? My kind can't lie. We can try, but it's a disaster each time.

"Am I ripping your guts out? It would be fun to have the same dream," she says, swirling her glass without a care in the world.

"Just my heart, loca." Fuck, she's rad. Those emeralds of hers... She's gutting my eyes, stabbing into my soul like a beautiful reaper. If this feels like dying, then she can kill me over and over. "But you can rip my guts out, too, if that makes you happy."

I know I'm nailing something when she takes a sip and huffs.

Exhaling, I'm feeling suddenly coaxed. My mate's in front of me, and I'm standing in front of Fay's door, doing a Cerberios'.

"Don't get carried away, Deon. It's called talking."

Clearly, she's yellow inside and out. And that, my friends, is excellent news for me. But there's a freak in Fay's room with fangs that suck blood and a sixth sense that convinces people they can breathe underwater. To sum it up, I've never felt Tyke's shadow so thick!

Sun shining in my eyes, Donna smiles at me. I love stirring her up. She might beam this glare of hers again. "Jealous?"

"I need a reason to be jealous, and fortunately, you're not one."

"Yet," I correct before resting my hand on Fay's handle.

I snigger when she fusses, "Leave them alone. Not all bedroom activities result in sex." Perhaps it doesn't. Fay is undoubtedly not that kind of chick—well, not anymore—but there's a bomb in my head, and it's Tyking! I'll be as dead as a doornail if I don't put an end to this farce.

"It does with me." All the time.

With my hand stroking Fay's handle, I stare at Donna briefly. She's that woman who doesn't need the last word so long as she can deliver the ultimate glare—and that's something she does well.

The door spreads wide, and before me is Fay, smiling.

"Hey, wonderful." As I tread on her forest-green carpet, I can't think of anything other than my stupidity.

"Hi." Waving airily like we just met, Fay takes a deep breath and sifts through her room as if searching for something, closes one eye, then the other, as if adjusting her eye-bats, and breathes in again. I approach her as if sidling a scared little rabbit, cautious in my steps, gradually maneuvering my eyes over her legs, making sure not to awaken a potential...

Dormiens Anima, the state a prey is left after being fed on.

I know this asshole...

I scan her room. Despite the lack of a nocturnal creature, large curtains flow before the window, shrouding the area with ghostly vibrations.

"Kinda fresh in here. Mind if I close the window?"

"No."

I don't detach my eyes from her as I head for the right, circling my attention well on her neck. Nothing. "Where is Vym?"

"He's gone. He leapt out, an urgency to deal with at The Restless."

Stupid bat shifter...

"Ah... Night businesses are a bugger. All good, love?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, just checking on you."

"A-ha, you're impossible. You know that?" Fay quickly passes me, my staggering heels rotating to this fluttering gal. She grabs Donna's arm, both chuckling like mischievous sisters. "I need a drink, wolfie."

"Yeah, me, too!"

"Deon!" My bones buzz at the sound of Donna.

"Yes?"

"You're coming?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I've stashed everything in bin bags and put everything in the dishwasher, and here I am, mopping. It's the middle of the night, and two girls are snoring on this salmon-colored couch. The thing is, I want to ask Donna if I can stay over. Just not sure how to wake her up or if I should even give her a nudge…

Without Vym in the equation, I wouldn't have to pursue this. But now that's been done, I'm pretty sure Tyke would want me to install a fucking security checkpoint at their door—fingerprint entry, retina scan, you name it. My issue is Fay's window. But not only. It's also the one in the kitchen. And how this vampire entered her flat without being invited means only one thing: he'd been in before.

That makes three possible entry points.

Having shoved a mop and bucket behind the kitchen island, I'm inner crying as I walk toward my demise, Tyke fluttering above my mind.

And now what... I'm staring at those darlings like a statue about to fall apart.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I have a blood test appointment at the police station's medical facility—fingers crossed, I get my badge back—straight after a dog walk tomorrow morning. I need, by default, to drink water and duplicate myself.

Basically, I'm fucked.

My mind is mulling over all scenarios. If I sleep with Fay, Donna will reject me. With Donna, I won't be able to see Fay's window. Which leaves me only one option: we all sleep together.

It's every monster's wish, but I'm not desperate or anything, either. Don't get me wrong, I love threesomes. But no, I'm not really up to that.

It's Tyke. Looking up at the ceiling, I see my life passing before my eyes in a motion slower than molasses. And that's Vym's fault. I don't trust that flying shit.

If Tyke finds out I slept with Fay and her roommate, I'll end up ground, a pound of me drying in Cerberios's bowl.

If something happens to Fay, same shit.

In all cases, it's dog food for me. So, I figure, what's the worst that can happen?

I slink one arm between those damsels, one arm above Fay, and freeze when this one mutters, "Amwaki." I am in a cuddling position, statically hugging Fay and pinching my mouth, nose, and everything possible that may cause her to wake shut.

Amwaki... Tyke, you're a lucky man.

She is the first thing I carry in my arms. After a gentle kick in the door and switching the light off with my chin—don't say more, I'm full of resources—I lay her in bed, sneak off her shoes, and cozy her up. She's got this doll's face. I can't keep away from the thought that Tyke's a blessed bastard. And then I remember, I found my mate.

This thought sends my heart racing. I skitter back into the living room and?—

Fuck.

"What are you doing?"

"You're getting tucked in," my voice cracks, feeling the concept of rejection shagging the idea of destruction cannon-balling my way.

She swallows loudly, a possible lump lurking in her throat, a dry yet sticky sigh covering it. Her eyes wince as several shambling fingers twirl back loose hair. Thankfully, a few threads slip back to where they were initially positioned, belly dancing in front of her exquisite, upturned nose. I said she was gorgeous, didn't I? "Have you locked the door?"

I stall. I'm unsure how to read the wolf. "Yes. I slotted the chain latch onto the plate. Nobody in, nobody out..."

"Okay." Her voice is trailing like a log tied behind a four-by-four. Judging by how she grips her forehead, it must be one of those headaches...

In my haste to reach the kitchen, I stumble over a garbage bag that vomits its contents all over the floor. "Shit!"

It'll just have to stay in its filth.

I go to the sink, grab a soaking glass, open the tap, and fill it.

Obviously, I kick the bin bag again on my way back, the latter spewing its contents even further across the living room.

Man, you're dripping. And it's not the cool stuff! Now get to it.

"Are all the windows shut?" The lady takes three unwanted steps back, and I think she just wanted to take one forth to grab my handling glass. She is irrevocably bladdered to the spine.

"Yes."

"Is your gun loaded?" she purrs, grasping an invisible pole, which I presume is still the glass I'm trying to cradle in her hand.

"Yes." I hook the glass in her palm and help her walk.

"Okay."

Okay... Okay, as in, what? She?—

"I drank too much. I'm sorry."

"Don't you worry about it."

"I was nervous."

"What could possibly make you anxious, little wolf?"

"You."

And bang goes my heart.

"Drink, Donna." There's no need to work on my breathing because my lungs just died. Grating my teeth, my ribcage is hurting from the constant pounding of an ultra-violent organ working for all those I still have left.

"I need to sleep," she blabbers on the glass's rim. A few gulps later, and this glass returns to its master. I quaff the remaining, my tail my best friend, looping over it for keeps.

Donna's staggering all over the place, but in a straight line. Keeping her pressed against me, I prod her to the right side of the bed.

"Sure." I'm parched inside out, not knowing where my left is from my right. Touching her is a spell; it's numbing my mind as if I'm full of magic potion.

I lift her legs onto the bed. And like I've done with Fay, I remove her sandals from her delicate feet and attempt to unbutton her pants.

A hand blocks my jest. "I'm afraid of many things, and that's one of those things," she says with a shudder. Her breathing is ragged, and I can tell she's scared. It's unsettling. In my tenseness and a lack of knowing what else to do, I skate my eyes over her golden skin that has turned darker. She is silhouetted by the moon, which is strong enough to distinguish her facial beauty. As she beckons to me, her arms reach out. "Come closer."

I obey, flames of desire not only tickling my cock but my throat. "Yes, beautiful," I husk at her lips.

With my hands still tangled in hers, her smokey voice grates, "There's a window in the bathroom... It's always open. Please close it."

After all that hot stuff steaming between us, the only thing on her mind... was a window?

"I'll do that now."