Nectar (Nectar 1) - Page 85
She felt happy, joyful, like tickly bubbly champagne flowed through her veins. Then suddenly he’d bared his fangs and his eyes turned black. He got hold of her throat and wouldn’t let go. In the dream she’d screamed his name over and over but it did nothing to stop him. Then she saw Jackson, standing in the shadows, looking gray, gaunt, and watching.
“Kyla!” Tristan had her shoulders. She was drenched in sweat. “Just a bad dream. It’s okay, baby.”
She started to hyperventilate. Tristan rubbed her shoulders, “Tell me what it was about.”
She shook her head, “I don’t remember. It’s okay.”
He looked directly into her eyes “Never ever lie to me.” he looked angry. Kyla threw her arms around him, trying to hold him as tight as possible.
“You were screaming my name but thrashing. You were in pain,” He caressed her head and ran his hands up and down her back. She just held on tight. She felt so overwhelmed. Being in Tristan’s arms felt so safe --- it was a safety she’d never remembered feeling at any other time in her life. She didn’t want to let go. How many times had she woken up afraid and alone at night? Never was there anyone she could grab onto.
She never wanted to grab onto Jackson when she was scared. She never got close enough to anyone else to feel that way, either. She felt like she belonged in Tristan’s arms when she was afraid. It instantly helped steady her heart rate. It felt so amazing to have someone to grab onto when she was so used to being alone with her grief and her fears.
“Did I hurt you in the dream? I did, didn’t I?” he asked, rhythmically stroking her back up and down.
She couldn’t answer, she just held on tight and let the steady beat of his heart steady hers.
“I won’t. I won’t let anybody hurt you. Ever.” He squeezed her tight.
How can he promise me that? This enchanted blood bond thing…on one hand she hoped it would never end because clearly it was responsible for this, whatever this was, but it felt like it couldn’t possibly end well, with a happily ever after. Why couldn’t things just be normal? Why could she just be a girl with non-enchanted blood and Tristan just a guy who didn’t need to drink blood?
He feared for her safety. She feared for her life and as much as she felt like she had feelings for him that ran deeper than any feelings she’d ever had for anyone she was afraid of the monster that lurked not too deep within him. He’d said, himself, she had seen nothing yet of that monster. What did that mean? How did that bode for her with his self-control and the issues related to her blood?
That dream… fear gripped her and must be manifesting itself when she slept. When she was awake she was floating on a cloud of giddiness but when she slept her fear gripped her. Was her intuition trying to shake her out of the floaty lovesick feeling by giving her a dose of harsh reality in her dreams?
She still knew almost nothing about him, about his past, about the world he lived in. She wanted to know what she was facing; she needed to know more about him, too. He’d been pretty vague so far.
It was 5:41am but morning nonetheless so she decided to get up.
“I’m just going to get a shower. I’m okay, honest.” Kyla got up and looked back at him. Damn, he was beautiful. He lay naked in the bed with the sheet barely covering his crotch. His tanned strong leg was bent up and one of his arms was behind his head. She blew out a slow breath and closed the bathroom door behind her.
When she got out of the shower she put on a new long maxi halter sundress. It was hot and sunny outside beating down from the skylight and through the windows. The yellow and white floral dress was casual, for poolside or beach wear but it felt good to wear something pretty and new.
She twisted her hair into a French braid and despite the gorgeous shoes there, she slid into her favourite beach flip flops. She put on some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. She wondered where Tristan was.
She spotted a note on the bed, which had been made already.
“Meet me in the kitchen. Xo, T.”
She brightened, looking forward to getting out of the master suite again.
She found Tristan in the kitchen, cooking. Led Zeppelin’s “All of my Love” blared throughout the kitchen. He was only wearing a pair of tight and faded cut-off jean shorts, which sat low on his hips, revealing some tan lines, his happy trail, and that sexy V shape that led to a place she could attest was wonderful. A sexy vampire with a sun tan. She chuckled. What an oxymoron. He was singing along. He had a great voice.
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