Chapter 6

“Doctor said I have to stay home and rest.” Of course Sarah would show up at my door to try and convince me to go.

“James, you can’t back out now. You said you’d go with me.” She pushes her way past me and into the living room.

The desire to resist leaves me in a rush of pain at her touch as she passes. Simply getting dressed and enduring an evening of snobbery at a gallery would be less painful than trying to convince Sarah I must stay home without revealing the true reason. She’s becoming quite a drain. I’m not sure how much longer I can continue this. The risk is too high she’ll appear in another dream, anyway. She’s unpredictable and I can’t ensure she’ll survive next time. Sarah isn’t overly intelligent either, I’ve come to realize over the years. The point becomes ever more evident by her incessant idle chatter on the hue of makeup I should wear to cover the dark circles under my eyes. No recognition that I’m in pain. What kind of negligent parents did she have? She’s great with computers, numbers and everything having to do with a bank. With people, that’s a different story. I’ve had to intervene on different occasions while she dealt unreasonably, even irresponsibly, with customers. There’s little in the way of common sense where her personality and private matters are concerned. She can never hold together a relationship of any kind for more than a week or two. I often wonder how she made it so far in her career.

After half an hour of her prodding, I finally acquiesce. The fact remains, I’m interested in meeting the man behind the green eyes. I want to get into his head and find out if he’s the one beating the hell out me at night or if he’s merely some harmless sap I don’t have to worry about. If he’s safe, I might consider getting to know him better. If not, well, you know. I might make out with him before snapping his neck. Perhaps I’ll consider allowing him a taste more. He is drop-dead gorgeous after all and smells beyond fantastic.

The squeeing that emits from Sarah upon my agreement to go burns my ears and nearly the last of my patience. Had I known she’d energetically hug me around the waist and pat me on the back to show her appreciation, I probably wouldn’t have agreed or would’ve at least waited until I was safely locked behind my bathroom door before notifying her of my intentions. Nonetheless, I begin the painful task of getting ready, unable to exterminate Sarah from the premises. She probably worries I’ll back out if she leaves me for a second.

Putting on makeup and fixing hair is torture with broken ribs. At the end of the evening I’ll take those painkillers Dr. Stanton prescribed. Heh, Rick. I feel like a mob boss with my own personal doctor. My incredibly handsome doctor who was so much more to me so long ago. Damn it! Pining over two men in a matter of minutes. Am I going through puberty again? I need to stop thinking about them and concentrate on getting ready.

While sitting on the edge of my bed and chattering, Sarah, thankfully, doesn’t notice last night’s blood on the edge of my headboard. I’d burned the covers but missed that. Stupid. In my weakened state, I’m making too many mistakes.

Thinking quickly, I grab my robe and hang it over the corner post to cover the bloody fingerprints. You never know when she might make a synaptic connection and notice something other than the glaringly obvious. I’m grateful she’s not overly observant. Luckily, she also doesn’t notice the pain on my face as I strain to breathe while struggling into my dress. This is a bad idea. I can already sense it.

I’ve never taken so long to get ready for anything. Two hours? Ugh! I feel like such a girl. But at last, the prep time is over and we’re finally on our way. Thankfully, talking Sarah into driving took no effort at all. We zipped off toward the city and soon she was pulling up to the gallery. As luck would have it, someone was leaving as we arrived, providing a prime parking spot right in front of the building. Fortuitous?

This time, I notice the front entry. An older building, the exterior walls are dark brown brick. The door has leaded-glass framed in heavy, American white oak. The brass handle is fairly new. Barely a scratch in the satin finish. Just inside the entry is a small reception desk where a young woman sits, taking names of all who enter. She wears a nametag. Mandy. The walls, pedestals, glass and crystal figurines, a variety of vases; all are unnervingly accurate to my dream. The difference is the varying people scattered around the room.

In front of a crystal statue, a young mother scolds her curious son. An elderly couple saunters by. A well-dressed man examines a vase. There’s a blond woman draped on the shoulder of a dark-haired man. I can’t see his face. Five other participants crowd around them. I have yet to see Mr. Leary and his piercing green eyes.

Out of habit, I search for finer details in the room. A small, green banker’s lamp illuminates the reception desk, a pen and guestbook on top. A nearby pedestal displays a glass figure of a woman draped in thin cloth, showing fine details of her naked form. Beside it sits a crystal vase crowned with raised tulips to accent the rim. I remember them from the dream. What’s the significance? Multi-level shelves display brilliantly colored glass pieces. Another colorful creation is perched on a pedestal, a brilliant yellow dish shaped like a piece of cellophane-wrapped candy, also from that night. Sarah stood near it in my dream, watching me grow speechless over a clever man. Speaking of him, he doesn’t seem to be anywhere in the room.

As the thought presents in my mind, I feel the presence of someone other than Sarah at my side. The smell of wet moorland grass relaxes my shoulders as I turn to see those gorgeous green eyes staring into mine. He reaches for my hand and leans forward, nearly brushing my cheek with his lips as he whispers, “I’m glad you came.”

Crap. This is my dream.

I’m suddenly confused. My heart is thumping and it isn’t because I’m in danger. My thighs feel warm and I want him to whisper in my ear again. And at the same time, I want to know how I’m reliving my nightmare.

At that moment, I realize Sarah is no longer at my side. She’s moved to the far wall, standing beside that same pedestal with the deliciously colorful glasswork and the same sly grin on her face. What does she see that I don’t? Wait. I asked myself this same question in the dream.

My eyes search the room. The woman with the young boy has moved on to other pieces. The elderly couple is heading toward the door. The blond is standing in the group, no longer clinging to anyone, talking while watching me and Collin Leary. The well-dressed man is speaking with the receptionist about the tulip-crowned vase. His sleeve rises up his wrist as he leans over her desk. He’s wearing an expensive watch. I think it’s a Breitling. She nods at his question. He sets the vase down and walks away. Collin Leary is looking dreamily into my eyes. What am I missing?

I need to say something before I look stupid. “Thank you for inviting me.” That was lame.

I’m such a rake. Why am I so cool in my dreams, fighting monsters who want to kill me, but in real life I can’t do anything but clean up debris? Here’s this really hot guy and I can’t think of an intelligent word to say. Maybe if I imagine he’s a killer and this is only a dream, I could say something witty, brilliant even, tempting him to make a move; assault me or seduce me. For the love of God, let him stop studying me in that sensual, I-want-to-run-my-fingers-up-your-thigh, kind of way. It scatters my thoughts too much. I swallow deeply and part my lips to speak.

Before I can turn on my dark angel charm, Blondie has grabbed hold of Collin Leary’s arm and is dragging him away. “I’m dying to know more about this beautiful vaaz over here.” So pretentious. It’s a vase, not a vaaz.

They stand in the corner and she wraps her arms around his like she owns him. Why does this bother me? I barely know him. I’ve lost all focus of the room. As much as I try to turn away, I can only see them, hovering near a shelf with a deep, tanzanite-colored vessel filled with hand-blown greenery and delicate white blossoms. She rubs the small of his back and then cackles loudly. Her hand trails up to his shoulder and she kisses him on the cheek.

With the breath caught in my throat, I realize I can’t watch any longer. My eyes direct downward instead, searching my thoughts, trying to reconcile my inner turmoil.

A quick glance back at the two makes my heart begin to race even faster. She’s turned his chin toward her and is pressing her lips against his. I’m struggling to control the urge to pull every bleached strand of hair out of her head. Why such a violent reaction? Isn’t he the man I want to destroy? I’m more controlled while carefully and methodically killing a murderer. I have to get out of here before I do something impulsive.

“Come on, Sarah, let’s go.”

She’s suddenly interested in a glass figurine. “I wanna stay. These things are amazing.”

Sigh. Perky. I’m beginning to abhor perky.

“I know, but I’m tired and I want to go home, now.” I try asserting myself, but it goes over her head. I should’ve known it was a mistake asking her to drive. I need air.

In a panic, I make my escape through the leaded-glass door. My body leans gingerly against the building as I catch the breath I’d been holding for some time. Something is happening I can’t explain. Something about this place, the blond, Collin Leary, even Sarah; an event they all seem to know or understand that I’ve lost. The key is in my dream, which I can’t remember. There’s something about this shared dream that Sarah knows subconsciously but can’t express. Maybe it’s the same with Mr. Leary, possibly his receptionist, too, but I’m completely missing it every time I’m in that room. Why can’t I see it?

The door suddenly opens and I endure the pain of lifting my fractured ribcage to stand straighter. When I raise my eyes, Collin Leary is staring back at me, his gaze penetrating my soul. My heart leaps and I can barely breathe again.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

He seems so sincere. Why do I want to shout at him like I caught him cheating? I want to hate him as if he’s a demon I hunt at night, but for some reason I can’t do either. Something inside me reacts differently to him. Am I losing my ability to recognize evil?

Then, he runs his hand down my arm and my skin tingles. Soon he’s holding my hand. I have to speak, but I don’t know what to say. Be cool, think of him as one of them. Hell, it’s highly likely he is.

“I needed air. Been battling the flu.” Real smooth. I sound so weak. How could I let him see me as feeble? “I should go home.”

“I wish you wouldn’t. I… I’m not sure how to say this without sounding desperate, but I was really glad to see you. You made my evening when you walked through the door.”

I’m taken aback at his humility. And thrilled he’s as awkward as me. I might have misjudged him. But even his lack of pretention isn’t enough. “I really should go.”

“Please don’t.” He grasps my hand tighter.

“But I thought you were with the…I saw you in there with her. She was clinging to you and she kissed you. I…I don’t know what I’m saying or why I’m saying this. Damn! You whispered in my ear and I want you to whisper to me again and I want your lips to touch me, but not my cheek. And I…” What the hell am I doing? I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t even know you and I’m making a fool of myself. I really should g—”

Before the last breath can escape my throat, he grabs me by the shoulders and presses his warm lips against mine. My whole body would collapse in his arms if it wasn’t for the pain in my torso. Then, his mouth slowly releases me and I’m waiting for more.

“I’m not with her. She’s a client. I may humor her, but she’s not the one I’m interested in.”

The feel of his breath on my lips when he speaks makes the muscles in my legs turn to rubber. He reaches his hand around my back and pulls me closer, kissing me again. My breath is stolen, but not in a good way. I try not to grimace, wanting to forget I was beaten last night, but his touch on my back is torture. There’s no way I can tell him how agonizing his hand feels against my broken body. I can’t say that I was attacked from behind before I killed a murderer in my sleep. He would think I’m a nut, or a serial killer. So I endure the torture, hoping I’ll grow numb soon so I can enjoy the feel of his kiss. As my neurons at last start losing the sharp stab of agony, the door swings open and Green Eyes loosens his grasp on me as Sarah exits the building.

“I see you two are getting along. Don’t let me interfere. Just wanted to let you know I’m going. Been a long day and I worked hard while you were home playing hooky, James.”

What? Where is she coming from? This isn’t like her. Confused at Sarah’s newest bout with crazy, I start to pull away from Collin. “I have to go—”

“Coll, would you be a dear and give James a ride home?” She winks at me and I’m not sure what game she’s playing.

“No, Sarah, I said I’ll—”

Before I can finish, she waves at me while I’m still walking toward her. She slides into her car and starts the ignition. “Sarah, don’t you dare leave—”

Her car pulls away from the curb before I can reach the door handle. “…me.”

I’m gonna kill her.

“That was your friend?”

I watch her taillights fade. “Not anymore.”

As much as I love entertaining this heady feeling he causes, the fact still remains: Collin Leary may be trying to kill me. The last thing I need is to lead him to my door.

“I’ll call a cab.”

“I can’t let you do that. I promise I’m safe.” I must have shot a confused glance his way because he begins to fumble over his next words. “I drive very safe. And, and I’m benign. I assure you, I’ll be a complete gentleman.”

“Benign?”

He stares back at me with an uncomfortable grin on his lips, redness shading the fullness of his cheeks. “Heh, yeah, I guess that’s what you call it. Won’t kill you, you know…”

My body stiffens at his reply. “What an unusual choice of words.” My minuscule level of comfort has just diminished.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’ll stop before I make it worse.” He hesitates for a moment. Then, his eyes soften. “If you’re sure you want to call a cab, I understand. But I’d really like to take you home.”

I’m too weak to fight if he turns out to be the killer I believe he could be, yet, I’d rather take my chances with him than a cab. Unsure why. Hello, intuition? Where have you been?

“I’m okay. I’d love for you to take me home.” My tone isn’t convincing, but it doesn’t matter. I’m sensing he attributes it to Sarah’s abrupt departure.

The corners of his mouth crease upward as he places a hand on my back and leads me into his gallery. Inside the door, he leans over and whispers in the receptionist’s ear; then, he moves through the room to each person. The mother has left with her boy. The well-dressed man is still hovering near the tulip vase, turned so I can’t see his face. The group of five pulls Collin aside to ask questions and engage in conversation. The receptionist moves to the door and locks it, standing nearby to avail departures. My skin prickles and my body tells me there’s something I need to understand.

The blond woman reaches for Collin and he walks away from her. Did he do that for my benefit? He approaches the man with the tulip vase and they briefly discuss the piece. He seems more focused on me than the customer. I don’t think he’s even looked the buyer in the eyes. The man plunges his hands in his pockets as Collin lifts the vase and brings it to the receptionist. He points out a brown smudge on the rim. Asks her to clean and wrap it. The smudge appears to be dried blood. My blood? Something I missed earlier. I’m losing my touch.

My body shudders again, telling me danger isn’t far away. But who? The man buying the vase? The blond? Collin Leary? Will I see either of them again in one of my dreams? Will I have to kill one of them, all of them, at some point in the not too distant future? I have the feeling of being smothered again. I haven’t felt this way since I was a child. What about this place is making me so reactive?

A claustrophobic panic comes over me and I want to leave again. My eyes scan the room once more, searching for signs of blood or anything out of place. The tile floor gleams with wax. A small section not far from me has a dulled surface in an oval pattern. No stain. No wax either. Someone scrubbed it clean.

A glass shelf affixed to the wall is chipped on one corner. An adjacent section is obtrusively empty. There was a shelf there at one time. The figurine of a child is missing a hand. The struggle took place here, not in my mind, not in my dream. Not possible. My dreams never have a physical location in the real world. Why was this one different?

The five guests saunter to the door, discussing the pieces they intend to purchase. One of the men lingers in front of me, studying my face. I smile back at him, but he doesn’t return the pleasantry. Collin’s receptionist unlocks the door and holds it open for them. Then, she closes and locks it again. Why do I cringe at the sound? The lone man in the suit gathers his treasure and departs also. I just realized, I never saw his face. Odd. How did he get by me without at least one opportunity for a glance?

One person left.

Collin is patient with the woman who wants more of his attention than he’s prepared to give. Her hands strafe his chest and then slip down the inside of his arms. His posture turns stiff as he politely smiles. I find her desperate advances too awkward to watch and turn to the girl beside me.

“You work here long?” Pathetic question, but I’m not in the mood to be creative.

“Little over a week.” She answers as if hoping to find something better.

“What do you plan to do, your dream career?”

She rolls her eyes and looks over her glasses at me. It’s late and she doesn’t want to answer my silly questions. Even a fool knows, I could care less about her dream career. Point made.

Soon Blondie is walking toward us, eyes fixed on me. Her pupils constrict with anger. Apparently, she suspects my presence for his change in attitude. I can’t deny her impression. She’s right.

Approaching the exit, she reaches for the deadbolt mechanism and flips it. The door is flung open and she storms out of the building.

“You can go now, Mandy. Thanks for everything.” Collin approaches the two of us and holds the door for his employee to depart. She doesn’t answer as she slips into the night. She doesn’t seem to have a positive impression of her employer. Is it him, or is it her own bad attitude? Something to ponder, for sure.

As her foot passes the threshold, the door closes. Collin reaches for the lock and turns it until I hear the haunting click once again. Suddenly, I’m feeling a recurrent sense of déjà vu. There’s no Sarah standing near the far wall, however. Only the two of us. What is his plan? My hands tremble as I scan the room again. There are too many weapons to leave here unscathed. The glass shelves would make a perfect tool, though.

As I search for the deadliest item in the room, the lights go out and I startle again. His hands slip over my shoulders. “This way.”

Once again, I can barely breathe. The unknown in Collin Leary’s world is more frightening than the monsters in mine. Best to assume he’s intent on killing me. Will I end up slitting his throat before learning his true nature?

His hand glides down my arm and into my palm. I’m tingling all over as his fingers lock in mine. The confusion is making a wreck of me. Is this his way of lowering my defenses?

“I parked out back. I’ll guide you through the dark. Stay close.”

Will you? Is there anyone in this world who can guide me through the dark?

Instead, he leads me into deeper blackness. I can’t see a thing, not even him. If it wasn’t for his palm pressed against mine, I’d think he’d left me here. He must’ve noticed my hand trembling because he pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me. I’ve never been in total darkness before. There’s always been some form of illumination, no matter how dim, lighting my way. I’m frightened of this unknown realm with a person I don’t trust leading the way. I can feel the blood drain from my face as I inch forward.

“We’re almost there. Having electrical troubles back here. Dumb lights went out yesterday. Can’t get anyone in to check it out until Monday.”

Electrical trouble the day before a gallery event? Convenient.

Colliding with what feels like a two-by-four, I hear the resonant clash of several boards falling to a concrete floor. Collin throws his arms around me again to protect me from the avalanche of wood.

“Still doing all right?” I nod, but he can’t see my response, so I guess it was more to encourage me. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve had you wait out front while I drove around. I hate to leave you there alone at night.” If he only knew how I’m more at home on a dark street than in a blind backroom.

Then, he stops and his hands leave my body, making me feel cold and empty. The sound of steel grinding against steel gives me hope as a sliver of light breaks the darkness. We’ve reached the door. As he directs me outside, the panic I’d held in check grows viral and I’m shaking all over. While I’m trying to recover, he turns to lock the door with an old, brass key, then back to me with an expression of relief. The look in my eyes must be telling because he reaches for my arms and pulls me to his chest. This time I don’t feel the ache in my sides. I’m quivering so hard I just want it to stop.

“Oh, my God, you’re so pale. I had no idea you were so scared.”

Neither did I.

Considering my body’s unusual response, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m reacting to something else. I hate this feeling. I’m not weak and I don’t need a man to save me. Only my doctor to stitch me up.

“I’m deathly afraid of the dark.” A total lie. I’m just afraid of pitch-black spaces where I can’t see anything at all. But I’m not in the mood to explain or elaborate.

He apologizes again and strokes my face. The feel of his hand on my cheek is comforting. And at the same time, I hate that he’s being so sensitive. My mixed feelings may be the result of a concern that this same hand that consoles me tonight will someday betray me. Maybe I don’t want to learn to enjoy the way he treats me and how wonderful this feels. If he’s the demon in my dreams, I’ll have to kill him. I know I shouldn’t get attached. But…

Finally, I’m able to relax in his arms, enjoying the way his hand strokes my hair to the curve of my bottom. To my disappointment, after mere seconds he releases me and looks into my eyes with genuine concern. How do I resolve this to my lack of trust? He seems so caring. How can he be a demon? Yet, there are too many signs around his gallery telling me he’s anything but gentle.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

Why do you keep asking that question? Do you hope for me to not be all right, expecting to weaken me? I fake a smile and nod.

“Okay. Let’s get you home.”

Let’s get me home? Oh. Now I wish I’d told him no, I need you to hold me longer. It has suddenly become crystal clear, he’s gifted at confounding me.

Placing his hand on my back, between the shoulder blades, he directs me to his car. A silver hybrid? I’m almost disappointed, expecting something sportier, sexier and less green-energy. He must be making decent money from the look of the furnishings in his gallery, the white Armani shirt and gray Evan Picone slacks, Bulova watch he wears. Well, the watch isn’t that expensive, but it’s pretty neat, one with a pendulum that swings, winding it when he moves. I’d pegged him to be nearly as pretentious as the blond woman he’d called his client, but I’ve been known to be wrong. At least the car is clean. If I die at his hands, it’ll be in an immaculate, economical vehicle. My DNA will be caught up in the wristband of his self-winding watch. Minor consolation.

When he slides into the driver’s seat, I realize I’ve given total control of my life over to him. Hate to beat the same drum, yet, I can’t help but wonder if my decision will prove me foolish. Or dead. Is he one of those killers everyone will say, He seemed like such a nice guy?

1. Ted Bundy – a handsome young man who worked at a suicide hotline around the same time he was murdering girls on the side of the highway. He would always see female volunteers safely to their cars at night before heading out to kill and bring home some of the heads as trophies.

2. Eddie Gein – the sweet, harmless old guy who regularly bought ice cream for children in the neighborhood while women in the area were disappearing. Everyone trusted him enough to kid sweet little Eddie that maybe he was the perpetrator. Quite a funny joke, until they found a woman hung like a deer in his garage and a lampshade crafted from human skin in his house, among other very creepy items.

If I went to Green Eyes’ home, would I find ashtrays made of human skulls? Will there be brains and severed body parts in his fridge next to the Chianti?

He reaches over to touch my hand as he drives, bringing my focus back to him and away from the possibilities of the sicko he could be. The feeling is intoxicating; his fingers gliding up the silky black sleeve of my dress to my elbow, tickling the skin beneath. Am I falling for a serial killer, one I should’ve taken care of less than a week ago? I’m trembling at the sense of him stroking my arm and instead of withdrawing, I want more. My apprehension makes his touch more exciting than I’d ever imagined.

While giving my address and brief directions, I grow hesitant once again. A nagging feeling tells me it might be a mistake. I’ve decided to take the risk anyway. If he’s trying to kill me, we might as well get it over with sooner rather than later. If my past is any indication of my future, I may not be strong enough for a good fight in another day or two.

“So who is this friend of yours? Sarah?”

You don’t need to know anything about her. “Just an employee.”

“She seems to be interested in your personal life. Had an impression she was trying to play matchmaker tonight.”

Forget about her. She’s off limits to you. “I get that a lot. I don’t go out much.”

He raises his eyebrows at me then looks in his rearview mirror. “Someone as gorgeous as you? Hard to believe.”

Does he think I’m a simpleton? “One of your favorite pickup lines?” My tone is flat with displeasure at his failed attempt to flatter me.

He smiles, slightly chuckles. “Fair enough. So your friend brought you to my gallery to meet someone?”

Oh, God, back to this line of query again? “Can we talk about something else?”

He chuckles at me again. His mannerisms are so subtle. He’s so controlled. And here I am, out of control. How did that happen? Something inside me is afraid if he is normal, he’ll lose all interest in me real fast. What man wants a relationship with a woman who kills monsters in her sleep, but shudders at subtle innuendos?

“Why do I make you so nervous?”

Aagh. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice. What can I say that won’t sound like I think he wants to skin me and make lampshades?

“I don’t know. I guess because I don’t know you, I was deserted by my ride and we’re stuck in this awkward situation. Perhaps I’m not yet convinced you won’t try to kill me after all. Wasn’t what I’d planned for this evening. And I’m a big fan of predictability.” That sounded good.

“Yeah? Me too.” He smiles, his lips pressing lightly together before they part to show his teeth and I suddenly wonder what he means by agreeing with me. He didn’t even attempt to deny the argument that I believe he might kill me. Has he made predictable arrangements and this evening has gone exactly as he’d planned? God, I’m so paranoid.

Shortly after rounding the corner at the end of my block, his car drifts smoothly into the driveway and I close my eyes, unsure what to do next. Do I wait for him to kiss me good night and then dart from the car? Do I let him walk me to the door? Invite him in? I wonder if it’s obvious I’ve never been on a date. Not that this is in any way a date, but it sure seems to be ending like one. Before I can talk or move, he takes my hand again.

“Can I walk you to the door?”

My danger meter starts sputtering to life, shrieking in my head while my trembling fingers wrap around his. “Yes.”

By the time we’ve reached the porch, I already have keys in hand. Stopping at the door, I turn to him and look up into his intense gaze. Who can think with those beautiful green eyes staring deeply, raptly, like this? Definitely his other secret weapon.

“Would you like to come in?” Crap! Why did I ask that?

“No. I don’t think I should.”

I’m relieved and also confused once again. How many times will my assessment shift between serial killer and sexy man who thinks I’m nuts?

He takes both my hands and a shock of excitement shoots through my legs to the tops of my thighs. “I might not be able to keep my promise.”

Bewildered, I shake my head. I don’t understand what he’s getting at and he’s searching for words for the second time since I’ve met him.

“I can’t lie. I’m unusually attracted to you. Right now I want to go in that house and kiss you in a way I’ve never kissed anyone. But I respect you too much. So I think it’s best I say goodnight right here.”

His restrained desire is a turn-on and I feel a strange and stimulating heat creeping through me. Now I want him to stay and kiss me like he’s never kissed another woman.

This time, when his hand reaches for my face, I don’t flinch. The feel of his touch on my skin is a sedative. I may not need a pain pill to sleep tonight.

As he leans into me, I meet him half way. The warmth of his lips and his tongue lightly brushing against my teeth makes me breathless. Although I don’t want to let go, I have no choice. I have to sleep. The monsters are calling me.

“I really should go.” My breathing is heavy.

“I know.” His also.

His face is flushed and I have no doubt mine is, too. When I reach for his cheek and stroke it with the tips of my fingers, I wonder how it would feel to have him biting my neck, his nose brushing against my ear and his body pressing into mine.

“Will you go out with me tomorrow?”

I’m taken aback at his invitation. He’s confident. I like that.

“I think I may be busy.” Regretful, but safe.

“Are you brushing me off?”

“No. I just think I may be busy.” Truthfully, I’d rather heal before he wraps his arms around me again. Besides, there’s no telling what tonight’s monsters have in store for me.

“Then, go out with me. Please.”

What is this with everyone begging me to do things with them these days? I’m not a rock star.

“Under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You promise to stay benign. You won’t kill me.”

He grins at my request, his perfect white teeth glaring in the moonlight. “What an unusual choice of words.”

Now all I can think about is his beautiful smile. “What time?” To hell with safe.

“Seven-ish?”

Smiling back at him, I nod my agreement. Bringing my hand to his lips, he kisses it lightly and then backs away as I grit my teeth. Was hoping for another kiss, elsewhere. Before he drives off, I go inside. With my back against the door, I recall the highlights of the evening. Mostly it entails anything having to do with his lips and the heat developing in parts of my body I’d forgotten existed.

Although I’m distracted like a lovesick girl, I remember to lock and bolt the door before heading off to bed. Unfortunately, my ribs still ache badly and I’ve decided to take that painkiller after all. I’m hoping my demon is weaker than me this night.