Cassandra let out a slow, appreciative breath as they proceeded down the driveway and she caught sight of his "house." "Palace" would be much more apropos, and given the fact that her father's house wasn't exactly small potatoes, that said a lot.
It looked very turn-of-the-century with large Greek columns and gardens that still appeared sculpted even in the deep winter snow and frost.
He drove them up the winding driveway to a five-car garage that was designed to look like a stable. Inside, it held Chris's Hummer (it was hard to miss his vanity plate, VIKING), two vintage Harleys, a sleek Ferrari, and one really cool Excalibur. The garage was so clean inside that it reminded her of a showroom. Everything from the ornate crown moldings to the marble floor said "wealthy beyond your wildest dreams."
She arched a brow at that. "You've come a long way from your little stone cottage by the fjord. You must have decided riches weren't so bad after all."
Parking the SUV, Wulf turned to face her with a scowl. "You remember that?"
She ran her gaze from the top of his gorgeous head to the toe of his black biker boots. Even though she was still angry at him, she couldn't suppress the warm tingle of sexual awareness she felt at being so close to such a hot man. He really was scrumptious, for an ass.
And speaking of that, he had a mighty fine one of those too.
"I remember all the dreams about us."
His scowl darkened. "Then you really were screwing with my head."
"Hardly!" she snapped, offended by his tone and the accusation. "I didn't have anything to do with it. For all I know, it was you messing with me."
Wulf got out of the truck and slammed the door.
Cassandra followed suit.
"D'Aria!" he shouted up at the ceiling. "Get your butt down here. Now!"
Cassandra was stunned when a light blue mist shimmered beside Wulf and a beautiful young woman appeared. With jet-black hair and pale blue eyes, she looked almost like an angel.
Her face emotionless, D'Aria stared eye to eye with him. "I have been told that that was rude, Wulf. If I had feelings, you would have hurt them."
"I'm sorry," he said contritely. "I didn't mean to be curt, but I needed to ask you something about my dreams."
D'Aria looked from him to Cassandra and it was then Cassandra understood. This was one of the Dream-Hunters she had read about on the Dream-Hunter.com Web site. All of the Dream-Hunters possessed black hair and pale eyes. These Greek gods of sleep had once been cursed by Zeus so that none of them were capable of feeling emotions.
They really were beautiful. Ethereal. And even though D'Aria was solid, there was something about her that was also shimmery. Something that let you know she wasn't as real as everything else in the room.
Cassandra felt a sudden, almost childish impulse to reach out and touch the dream goddess to see if D'Aria was made of flesh or something else.
"You two met in your dreams?" D'Aria asked Wulf.
Wulf nodded. "Was it real?"
D'Aria cocked her head slightly as she thought about that. Her pale eyes held a faraway, fragile look to them. "If you both recall it, then yes." Her gaze sharpened as she looked up at Wulf. "But it wasn't from any of us. Since you are under my care, none of the other Oneroi would have interfered with your dreams without telling me."
"Are you sure?" he asked emphatically.
"Yes. It's the one code we are all careful to follow. When a Dark-Hunter is given over to one of us to care for, we never trespass without a direct invitation."
That all too familiar frown creased Wulf's brow. Cassandra was beginning to wonder if the "real" Wulf was capable of any other expression than that sinister, intense look. "Since I'm under your care, how is it that you didn't know about the dreams I've had with her?"
D'Aria shrugged in a gesture that looked rather awkward for her. It was obvious the shrug was a practiced expression. "You didn't summon me to your dreams, nor were you hurt or in need of my healing. I don't spy on your unconscious mind without cause, Wulf. Dreams are private matters and only the evil Skoti go where they're not invited."
D'Aria turned to look at her. She held her hand out. "You may touch me, Cassandra."
"How do you know my name?"
"She knows all about you," Wulf said. "Dream-Hunters can see right through us."
Cassandra tentatively touched D'Aria's hand. It was soft and warm. Human. Yet there was a strange electrical field around it that was similar to static electricity, only different. It was oddly soothing.
"We are not so different in this realm," D'Aria said quietly.
Cassandra withdrew her hand. "But you have no emotions?"
"At times we can, if we have been recently inside a human's dream. It's possible to continue to syphon emotions for a brief time."
"Skoti can syphon for longer periods," Wulf added. "They're similar to Daimons that way. Instead of feeding off your soul, the Skoti feed off your emotions."
"Energy vampires," Cassandra said.
D'Aria nodded.
Cassandra had read about the Dream-Hunters extensively. Unlike the Dark-Hunters, there was a ton of ancient literature that survived about the Oneroi. The gods of sleep appeared throughout Greek literature, but there was seldom a mention of the evil Skoti who preyed on people while they slept.
All Cassandra knew about them was that they were highly feared in ancient civilizations. So much so that many ancient humans were afraid to even mention the Skoti by name lest they incur a midnight visit from the sleep demons.
"Would Artemis have done this to us?" Wulf asked D'Aria.
"Why would she?" D'Aria countered.
Wulf shifted slightly. "Artemis seems to be protecting the princess. Could she have sent her into my dreams for that purpose?"
"I suppose most anything is possible."
Cassandra seized on D'Aria's words with zeal and a rare glimmer of hope. "Is it possible that I don't have to die on my next birthday?"
D'Aria's emotionless gaze held no more promise than her words. "If you are asking me for prophecy, child, that I cannot give you. The future is something each of us must meet on his or her own. What I say now may or may not be truth."
"But do all half-Apollites have to die at twenty-seven?" Cassandra asked again, desperate for an answer.
"That, too, is an Oracle question."
Cassandra closed her eyes in frustration. All she wanted was some hope. A little guidance.
One more year of life.
Something. But apparently she was asking too much.
"Thank you, D'Aria," Wulf said, his voice deep and strong.
The Dream-Hunter inclined her head to them, then vanished. There was no trace of her. No sign.
Cassandra looked around the elegant garage of a man who had lived for untold centuries. Then she looked at the small signet ring she wore on her right hand that her mother had given her just days before she died. A ring that had been handed down through her family since their first ancestor had prematurely crumbled to dust.
All of a sudden, Cassandra burst out laughing.