She shrugged and picked another daisy. He felt the tension roll over her as her eyes flashed to gold and then back to brown so fast it could have been a trick of the light.
He sat on the grass a few feet away and uprooted a daisy, starting on the same mindless ritual Greta was focused on. When she looked up at him, her shoulders relaxed.
He sighed. “What are you afraid of? You know they can’t get to you, not even in the garden. You’ve been safe here the entire time, and the clock is running out. You’re useless to them after tomorrow night.”
He reached out and settled a hand on her knee. “Are you afraid of me?”
Her wide eyes rose to his. “No.”
“Is it because of the way I behaved when you first got here? Or anything we’ve done since then?”
“No. I’m not afraid of you.”
He watched as her eyes drifted to his hand, then away, then back again, but she didn’t ask him to remove it. He laid his other hand against her cheek.
“You really are safe with me.”
She rubbed her cheek against his palm and scooted to close the distance between them. Her mouth latched onto his. He returned the kiss; his hand settled on the back of her neck holding her firmly in place while his tongue explored.
In the next moment, she’d scrambled off him.
“Greta, what?” He touched a finger to his lips.
“I don’t need to be starting something up with someone who may or may not be evil.”
“Who said we were starting anything up?”
Her face flushed. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” He didn’t know what she was apologizing for until he saw the signs of the heat.
“I was supposed to take it after breakfast. And then you came in and distracted me.”
“It’s all right. I understand this. I don’t think badly of you. Let me help you.”
She held a warning finger out to him as she struggled to her feet. “You stay the hell away from me.”
He edged nearer. “You are afraid of me.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. She needed him now. Her body sought his. After the first day, he’d been nothing but kind to her. Never raising his voice, never grabbing or threatening her. He’d gone shopping for her; he’d done everything right. Dreams were often a jumbled mixture of all the things people experience, desire, and fear. It made sense Dayne would get jumbled in too.
She had no illusions he wanted to keep her around, and she didn’t want to sleep with him again if it was going to be just another meaningless ritual biology had set up as a physical act with no feeling. If she was going to be physical with someone, she wanted the feelings that came with it. She wanted him to care.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
He cocked his head to the side looking past her, and she wondered what had caused the confused expression to come to his face.
“You’re conflicted,” he said after a moment.
“I’m not conflicted. I just want control of my own damn body.” Her voice quivered more than she liked. She darted behind a row of hedges and passed through the gate before detouring to her room. She shut and locked the door.
Moments later, there was a quiet knock.
Her need flowed through her. It thrashed about like a live wire demanding satisfaction. The arousal was so strong it was becoming painful. A rumbling purr started in her chest, trying to soothe it away. She needed him inside her now.
“Greta, let me help you. You can’t make it until tomorrow,” he said reasonably from the other side of the door.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the sheets, rending long tears in them. Dayne didn’t seem conflicted at all. She was glad at least one of them wasn’t suffering from that problem.
“I don’t want to frighten you. I don’t want to open the door with magic. But I’m not sure I can stay out here and listen to you howl like that.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been making vocalizations. Sounds that could be either pleasure or pain. At this point, even she couldn’t decipher the tangled web of sensations running through her. She left the bed without conscious thought and crawled to the door. Her fingernails dug into the wood as she pressed her ear to the flat panel listening to him while he spoke soft words of reassurance. She panted as she breathed in his scent.
She ripped the clothes from her body. The room was becoming too hot. She couldn’t think. A horrible sound tore from her throat.
“I’m coming through the door if you don’t open it.”
She wanted him to. Anything so she wouldn’t have to make the choice to throw herself at him. Let him be the one on a conquest, not her.
“Greta.”
She couldn’t form a thought that would translate itself into a sentence. The only words that wanted to work their way through her brain were, “Please fuck me now.” She knew he was more than willing to oblige. All she had to do was move a few inches, and unlock the door. One tiny little turn.
Her hand reached out, and she pulled it away, biting her bottom lip.
“I’m counting down, and then I’m opening the door. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . ”
She unlocked the door.
“ . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . ”
She opened the door.
Dayne’s clothes had already been stripped off. She wanted to say he’d been presumptuous, but large words like presumptuous couldn’t be processed in her near feral state. She pounced on him and wrapped her legs around his waist.
He walked them backward to the bed. “I’m never buying Egyptian cotton sheets again.”
“Please,” she breathed. They both knew she wasn’t asking for sheets.
8
Greta’s eyes shot open. Her heart palpitated wildly, thrumming through her chest. Blood pounded in her ears. Dayne’s arm was slung over her hip, hugging her naked body loosely against him. Why hadn’t she shifted? She’d had the dream again, this time more vivid than before. Yet, despite her fear, she’d held onto her human form.
She wanted to stay wrapped in his warmth forever, but she forced herself to move. He was the face of her death; there were no doubts now. Getting the same dream twice wasn’t something she could ignore. It was prophetic.
Dayne was the one holding the ritual knife that spilled her blood. She twisted and shimmied out from under him. His arm fell with a sharp oomph much louder than it should have been. Was her hearing getting better?
He rolled to his other side with a grunt, and Greta eased out of the bed. She grabbed her duffel bag from the corner, and made her way to the kitchen for her pills.
She didn’t need crazy lust while trying to survive. It had already inconvenienced her twice. Now her heart hurt to leave the man she kept finding herself in bed with. Stupid heat cycle. Her body and heart were convinced he was the guy for her, but her brain knew better
She felt a pang of regret at breaking her agreement, then her brain kicked back in as she remembered his plan had been to get her blood at the full moon. And to kill her doing it. No, she didn’t feel bad leaving. Besides, she’d slept with him. To men of Dayne’s reputation that was probably considered payment in full.