“I need you to know I’d never take pleasure in watching you struggle. I would never say those words to you, Annalise.”
“Why? Because we’re dream buddies?” She stood and he released her hand without a fight. Just the thought of those nightmares gave her chills. “I gotta go. Good luck with your mission.”
As she walked to the door, he watched her. The concentrated sharpness of his stare had turned to something else. He almost looked ... shocked. Either way, she was glad he didn’t follow her.
She pushed out the door and went straight to Jimbo’s a few doors down. She sensed him watching her and refused to look through the glass storefront. But at the last second, she glanced back and sucked in a breath.
Nothing but empty tables filled the café. The barista still had her face in her phone. Annalise’s head jerked, scanning the parking lot. No one was out there.
Shaken, as if she’d just spent the last thirty minutes having coffee with a ghost, she rushed into Jimbo’s. The smoke and music hit her like a bucket of water, thrusting her back into the familiar reality she loathed and loved.
She approached the bar. “I need a shot.”
Kyle frowned. “I thought you went home.”
“My car won’t start.”
He grabbed a clear bottle and filled a small glass. “Lemon?”
“No thanks.” She tossed it back and winced at the burn.
“I can take a look at your car, missy,” Gus offered, overhearing her.
“I doubt it’s fixable, but if you don’t mind taking a peek—”
“Say no more.” He stood, a little off balance, and waved a hand. “Lead the way.”
In the parking lot, Gus poked around under the hood instructing her when to turn the key and when to pump the pedals. He couldn’t find anything wrong, but after a good twenty minutes of sweet talking the Steaming Turd and some gentle petting on Gus’s end, they coaxed the old girl back to life.
Gus appeared as surprised as she was. “I ain’t never seen a car do that before.” He rubbed his eyes. “Maybe I should head home, too.”
“Are you all right to drive?”
“Huh?” He glanced back at her, his feet already carrying him back to the bar. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. You be careful getting home, now, missy. And do yourself a favor and back in when you park. I could have sworn it was the battery, but what the hell do I know?”
“Thanks, Gus. I will.”
The Steaming Turd rumbled onto the road and she couldn’t help but smile. She stroked the dusty dashboard. “See, you’re not dead yet. I knew we’d save you.”
She backed in, just as Gus had suggested. That way, if she needed a jump in the morning, it would be easy to get under the hood. After a long shower that she hoped removed any lingering unpleasant scents, she took a hefty dose of nighttime cold medicine.
She was determined to get a sound night’s sleep. And by the time her head hit the pillow her eyes were already closing.
Chapter Fourteen
Adam stayed outside of Annalise’s apartment waiting for her to drift off to sleep. With so many under one roof, it was difficult sifting through the emotions to locate hers, but having her blood still in his system from the night before aided him greatly. However, the emotions he found were sluggish and not working on the usual frequency he’d come to consider hers.
Regardless of the lethargic delivery of her emotions, he sensed her enjoying a cocoon of calm as her heart settled. It shouldn’t be long.
He glanced at her vehicle, knowing the quick charge he’d offered wouldn’t hold until morning. He knew nothing about automobiles but understood enough to know they shouldn’t sound like they were about to explode.
Tonight, he’d been offered a gift, a true glance into the mate he’d been given. He hadn’t prepared for so much cynicism. She seemed very untrusting of him and the idea that he might be in her life for a reason.
Trust would take time. The bonding would likely help her see him as someone she could always depend on. He’d intended to complete the bonding tonight, but her confession about nightmares had thrown him.
The bad dreams also seemed to paint him in an unfavorable light in her eyes. He didn’t know how she could dream such things without him knowing. Never had he witnessed any of the dark images she’d described tonight.
He wished he could speed up the process. With each passing day he grew more uncomfortable, more impatient, and more ... feeish.
His impulses suffered. His fangs no longer extended only at his mental request. Physical reflexes were taking over conscious choice.
He could hardly swallow a sip of coffee tonight, because his appetite had become non-existent. Yet he suffered a hunger that would not yield.
Typically, their kind needed blood for nourishment. Their bodies required great amounts of iron to supply the blood with oxygen. Any blood would work, though the more advanced the species, the more ... exquisite the taste. There was no greater delicacy than the blood of a mate.