He scowled and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him without a sound. "You should be sleeping." She lifted her shoulder. "I thought the bath would relax me, but I can't seem to close my eyes." He had to work damn hard to ignore the bolt of lust that shot through him with the renewed image of Claire sitting na**d in a tub full of steaming water and silky white bubbles. "Nightfall will come early," he grumbled. "We've got to be ready to catch our ride back to the States at sundown. You'd better douse that lamp and try to get some rest." She moved on the bed, but only to reach over and gesture to the empty side. "I took one of the softer pillows, but if you'd rather have it you can." He glowered at her, more from the discomfort of his growing erection than her offer of his choice of pillow. Her shift on the mattress had stretched her T-shirt into a second skin. And with the dislodging of the quilt coverlet as she moved, his burning gaze fixated on the tiny scrap of her panties. Crimson red panties, for the love of God. He froze where he stood, every nerve ending in his body going nuclear with arousal. "You might remember that I'm a very sound sleeper," she said, but he was hardly hearing what she was saying. "Don't worry about waking me up if you still toss and turn and hog the covers over there. I probably won't even notice." He shook himself back to consciousness when he realized she expected him to sleep in the bed with her.
Right beside her, when the only thing preventing him from acting on his unholy desire for her was a paltry slip of cotton and a minuscule triangle of red satin. "The bed is yours," he said, his voice a rough scrape in his throat. "This isn't a slumber party, for f**k's sake. You can't actually expect me to sleep with you, Claire." Her expression faltered. "I didn't mean..." "Jesus Christ," he muttered. His skin prickled with a sudden wash of heat and hunger that made his desire stoke even hotter. "Getting in bed with you is the bloody last thing I need to do right now." He must have sounded even more harsh than he realized, based on how quickly she glanced away from him. She shook her head, then exhaled a sigh. "The bed is big enough for both of us. That's all I was trying to say." He stared at her for a long moment, his muscles twitching with the urge to move, to propel him over to where she was on the mattress and ease her down beneath him. He wanted that so badly it was all he could see. All he could taste as the points of his emerging fangs pressed into the flesh of his tongue. "Get some sleep, Claire." He tore himself away from the sight of her and took his own place on the floor nearby. The hand-loomed rug that covered the old wood planks was lumpy and smelled vaguely of lemon wax. He tossed onto his side on the hard floor, the only position that didn't make him painfully aware of the hard-on that was jutting between his thighs like a column of stone. Had he actually tried to caution her a few minutes ago that nightfall would come early? Like hell. It was going to be a long f**king wait till sundown.
Chapter Twelve
Claire lay on the huge bed, wide awake, staring into the shuttered darkness of the room. She hadn't moved since Andreas took himself to the floor. Time dragged, and for quite a while she was certain he'd been just as awake and alert as she was--and just as determined to lie there in silence and pretend he didn't notice. But somewhere around an hour ago, his breathing had changed from the controlled inhaling and exhaling she could barely discern, to the deep, rhythmic soughing of sleep. Claire listened to the slow sounds of his slumber, while Danika's words about the rarity of second chances and not wasting precious time on regrets were playing over and over in her mind like a song she couldn't get out of her head. There was so much she wanted to say to Andreas. Things she needed him to hear. Not that he would listen. He didn't seem inclined to let her get close enough to reach him at all. And she needed to be close to him now, if only to feel his strength beside her when everything she thought she knew about her world was crumbling at her feet.
She'd felt a wall come up between them tonight. It seemed to grow taller and less scalable the longer they were at the farmhouse Darkhaven. Claire wasn't sure what she'd done to upset him, or maybe it was simply the fact that he'd been forced to look after her now that Wilhelm was likely gunning for them both. For a moment she wished she'd been gifted with Danika's talent so that Andreas's mind, and his cryptic emotions, wouldn't be such a mystery to her right now. Her own ability could help her there, too. Everyone was more accessible in the dream realm. Not everything said or seen was truth, of course, but the surreal nature of dreams had a way of peeling back inhibitions. Claire ventured a look over the expanse of the wide bed to the large bulk of Andreas's body where he slept on the floor. She tucked her arm under her head and curled up on her side, watching him. Wondering where his dreams had taken him. She closed her eyes and thought about him as she let her body relax, willing her mind to calm and prepare for sleep. She let her talent stretch, tendrils of awareness reaching... searching. It usually took incredible focus to find the dreamer, but with Andreas, she'd no sooner slipped under the veil of consciousness and slumber than there he was.
It had always been like that with him, as if their connection had been there from the instant they first met and had never weakened. There had been times, long after Andreas was gone from her life, that Claire had been tempted to seek him out, if only in the dream realm. But she'd been too afraid of facing more of his rejection, and too ashamed of herself that, try as she might, she could not find for Wilhelm anything close to the love she had been unable to purge for Andreas. After all that had happened the past couple of nights, what she felt now for Wilhelm and the blood bond that shackled her to him was a cold and biting mistrust. Contempt, if everything she was learning about him was true. After all she'd been through with Andreas in these harrowing, intense long hours together, she had to admit to some measure of fear for the lethal inpidual he was now. But along with that fear had come a rush of emotion that terrified her even more for how strongly she still felt for him. For how deeply she still wanted him, needed him. How easily she could see herself falling back in love with him ... if she'd ever truly stopped. As she walked into his dream now, her breath caught to find him under the starlight of a clear evening, seated shirtless and barefoot in the crisp, cool grass of the parkland sanctuary she had designed for his vacant Darkhaven property. All the details were just as she had them on the architect's model, down to the very last bench and flower bed. Good lord. He had memorized the entire plan. "It's beautiful," he said, his deep voice a vibration she felt all the way into her bones. "You knew exactly what needed to be here. Somehow, you knew." He didn't turn to face her as she cautiously approached him at the edge of his dream, where the land he was imagining in his sleep hugged the glittering lake beyond.