Chapter Seven

Olivia dreamed. A nightmare. Or rather the nightmare. The fear. The violence.

The blood.

And a violent storm.

Only the storm was crystal clear. Everything else was a tangle of images and muffled sounds. Nothing that she could latch onto, but they certainly latched onto her. She woke, jackknifing to a sitting position with the scream wedged in her throat.

“It’s okay,” someone said.

Lucian.

It took her a moment to get her bearings in the dark guestroom of his house. The only illumination came from the streetlight threading through the edges of the curtains. She couldn’t actually see the window, but Olivia could hear the rain spitting against the glass.

So, the storm had been real.

Lucian, too.

He was sitting in the chair that’d been pulled up beside the bed. He reached out, took her hand, brushed a kiss on it.

Nothing like the kiss he’d given her earlier in his office.

But it was exactly the kind of kiss Olivia needed now. Comforting and reassuring. Something she shouldn’t be feeling since Lucian was still practically a stranger to her.

In the normal sense of the word, anyway.

He sat there in the darkness. Their gazes connected. He was naked. Well, almost. He was wearing just a pair of boxers, but with her senses and imagination firing on all cylinders, Olivia had no trouble imaging him naked.

“You should try to go back to sleep,” he added, his voice comforting, too. “You need to rest.”

“So do you,” she reminded him right back.

In fact, that was the reason he’d given her for putting her in the guestroom rather than his own bed—so she could rest. But the nightmares were making sure that didn’t happen. There’d been a constant stream of them for the past five hours or so.

At least it wouldn’t be long before daylight, and being awake with the real memories might be easier than sleeping with the nightmarish ones.

Especially since this was the thirtieth anniversary of Marissa and Lucian’s murders.

Was that why the images were getting stronger? The feelings, too?

Olivia wanted to dismiss it all, but it was hard to dismiss something that was consuming her.

In addition to the dreams, there was their peeping Tom. Or a peeping killer/photographer. The PI had found cameras mounted on trees and buildings next to Lucian’s house and office. Cameras aimed at the windows.

The killer had seen plenty through those lenses.

Lucian and her kissing. The photos they’d looked at. The pages of Marissa’s journal. Lucian’s hands in her pants. And him going down on her in his office at home. Talk about getting an eyeful.

And a total violation their privacy.

It felt as if she was being attacked all over again, and that nightmare certainly hadn’t helped.

“You think Salvetti will find out who set up those cameras?” she asked.

“Probably.” But his tone said otherwise.

Salvetti had already looked at the security footage from both Lucian’s office and house, and there were gaps in the images. Someone had apparently managed to jam the security system feed long enough to install the cameras. That, in turn, had caused Lucian to demand that Salvetti and his team put new security measures in place at the house. Immediately. And the PI and his team had worked on that until the wee hours of the morning.

“At least the killer can’t jam the new equipment,” she commented. “Right?”

“Right. The doors and windows are double wired. The killer can’t jam those.”

But the killer could get close, again. They couldn’t stay locked inside Lucian’s house forever.

“In the dream I saw blood,” she whispered.

She pushed her hair from her face and started to get up. Then, she remembered she was wearing one of Lucian’s T-shirts and nothing else. It seemed stupid to feel modest now after what they’d done, but she needed to keep a clear head as long as possible.

That wouldn’t happen if Lucian touched her again.

Or if she kept imagining striping off his boxers. Because it wasn’t just the blood from the dream that was still with her. Before the fear, the blood and the storm, she’d felt Lucian inside her.

Or maybe that was Damien.

Olivia groaned, hating that she didn’t even know the difference. She didn’t want distorted boundaries when it came to a heated attraction like this.

“How bad was the dream?” Lucian asked.

She opened her mouth to lie and say it wasn’t bad, but the lightning came, slashing outside the window, followed by blast of thunder. Olivia scrambled to the other side of the bed. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she was clearly showing her nerves.

And showing everything else that her panties would have normally covered.

If she’d had on panties, that is. The PI had gotten tied up with the cameras and new security equipment, and he hadn’t had time to bring her things to Lucian’s place. Since she hadn’t had a change of underwear, Olivia had washed hers, and they were now drying in the bathroom.

Lucian noticed her lack of underwear. Of course. There was a manly grunt that came from deep within his chest.

“I’m trying to give you some time to adjust to all of this,” he said. “To adjust to me.”

If there hadn’t been another loud boom of thunder, she might have laughed. She’d already adjusted to Lucian. Her body had seen to that.

“Won’t you always wonder if this heat you’re feeling is for her or me?” Olivia asked.

He shrugged, but there was nothing casual about the rest of his body language. “I’ll always wonder about a lot of things when it comes to our situation. Right now, I’m just trying to stop myself from getting into bed with you.”

Well, she certainly wouldn’t stop him.

Olivia had already proven that she didn’t have a grain of willpower when it came to Lucian. That body. That scent. Everything about him reeled her in, and she knew from experience now that the dream orgasm would be nothing compared to what the real man could give her when they actually had sex.

Except it wasn’t really her orgasm.

Marissa had definitely been in charge of that, and Olivia had been able to feel the woman as much as she’d felt Lucian’s mouth.

“Tell me about the blood,” he said, snapping her back from the heated fantasy that was already spinning out of control.

Yes, the blood. Hard to forget that even with these obsessive sexual urges.

“It was in flashes. Like spatter,” she answered. “Nothing clear. And no, I didn’t see who caused the blood to spatter like that.”

Lucian made another sound, one of understanding this time. “I went through hypnosis a couple of days ago. Nothing new came out of it. But perhaps we should go through it together.”

That required a deep breath. Knowing would be a good thing, but Olivia wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to relive that kind of violence. Especially since she’d experienced violence like that first hand.

“In the dream, we had sex,” Lucian continued. “Right? And then everything started to change.”

“To smear,” Olivia corrected. “Like the images were melting.” She had to pause. “Maybe because we…they were being murdered, and all their living thoughts vanished?”

No mercy, no resting in peace.

Another jolt of lightning came with that thought, and it felt as if the jolt went through her. Olivia looked down at the plain white tee to make it sure that it hadn’t.

God, she was losing it.

Despite the no-panties issue, she climbed out of bed anyway and went to the massive window that took up most of that side of the wall. She pushed back the curtain a fraction so she could look out. The PI had removed the cameras, but just in case he’d missed one, Olivia stayed back in the shadows as Lucian had already ordered her to do.

The violent storm only fueled the violent memories, and for a flash of a moment, she got another memory. Not blood.

But a scream.

“What’s wrong?” Lucian got to her fast and turned her toward him.

Olivia looked up, blinking to force away the unmistakable sound. “Marissa’s screaming. I think that means Damien was attacked first.”

Because that wasn’t an ordinary scream. Olivia felt it all the way to her bones. It wasn’t the sound of pain but rather of pure grief. A woman who was watching her lover being killed before her eyes.

There was another sound. Not in the dream. The screech of something on the window, like nails on a chalkboard.

Olivia wanted to step back. She didn’t want to see. But she couldn’t move.

And the words appeared on the glass.

Help us.

She didn’t know how she managed to stay on her feet. Or breathe. Seeing that plea slammed into her.

Lucian cursed, hauled her to him. “It’s too much for now. Shut it out of your mind.”

Easier said than done, but Lucian helped with that, too. He held her as if his mere embrace could chase away the demons. Or in this case, chase away the word, the blood and screams.

Had she heard the knife slice into bone?

And the rattle of a last breath?

Had she heard Marissa whisper his name?

“Damien.”

It took Olivia a moment to realize that she hadn’t said the name out loud. Lucian had. She eased back just enough to see his face.

“I’m hearing the scream, too,” Lucian said.

Mercy, that only made it worse. Because either they were both going crazy or this was really happening. They were being devoured by Marissa and Damien.

By their murders.

She pulled Lucian back to her, so close that they were touching, and even though it didn’t seem right to kiss him, it didn’t seem wrong, either. Besides, the kissing and the fiery need were the only things that got the other bloody images out of her head. Olivia was prepared to get lost in the kiss.

But then, she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye.

At first, she thought it was part of the images or another message from Marissa, but then Lucian shifted his position, shoving her behind him.

There, in the side yard, she saw something. Or rather someone. A shadowy figure darted out of sight.

“Did you see that? God, does it have yellow eyes?” she asked Lucian. The questions rushed out with what little breath she’d manage to regain.

Olivia had seen yellow. Just that flash of murky color. Before the screeching sound on the glass returned. Repeating the two words that were now screaming in her head.

Help us. Help us. Help us.

“We need to call someone,” she said, groping for the phone next to her bed. “The cops.”

Lucian stopped her. “He, she…it’s already gone. But the new security cameras might have caught whatever was out there. Come on.”

He waited for her to grab her cell from the nightstand, and he hurried her back down the stairs to his office. The curtains and blinds were closed, thank goodness. Even if the killer’s cameras had already been removed, she didn’t want to risk having missed one of them. She’d been spied on enough to last a lifetime.

“Did you see the eyes?” she asked, praying that Lucian hadn’t.

“I’m not sure what I saw. Don’t turn on the light,” he added when she reached for the switch.

Probably because it would tell an intruder, killer—or a demon—exactly where they were in the house. But the problem with the darkness was that it brought back the nightmarish images. The scream. The plea for help.

It brought back everything.

Olivia felt her heartbeat rev up. Her chest tightened. And her breath became thin, all the makings of a full-blown panic attack. Unlike Lucian. He wasn’t panicking. He hurried to his computer.

“The security system’s still on and working fine,” he told her.

That was something at least, but it didn’t tamp down the panic, because a demon killer with yellow eyes could find its way around security.

“Breathe,” Lucian said, and he motioned for her to come closer to him.

She did. Somehow, Olivia got her feet moving, and as he’d done before, he slipped his arm around her. And like before, it helped. At least it helped with the panic, but she knew this couldn’t continue. She needed to make arrangements for her own security so she could put some distance between Lucian and her.

Temporary distance, anyway.

She figured it wouldn’t be long before she could resist the pull he had on her. Besides, there was a killer after them. Hard to break a bond with Lucian as long as that was hanging over their heads.

Of course, she couldn’t go back to her apartment. She couldn’t go anywhere that a killer would expect her to go.

Did a safe place even exist anymore, or was she going to face this monster as Damien and Marissa had?

“Breathe,” he repeated.

Olivia watched as he started looking through the images from the security cameras. Judging from the different angles, there were at least a half dozen cameras. He reversed the feed starting from a half hour ago and zoomed in on the spot where she’d seen the shadowy, yellow-eyed figure.

Nothing.

Lucian advanced the footage little by little, and Olivia wasn’t aware that she was holding her breath until her lungs started to ache. At least looking at the screen gave her something to do.

Something other than panic, that is.

Lucian stopped the flow of images and moved closer to the screen. Olivia did, too, but she couldn’t see what had caught his attention. There was no one by the tree, and the streetlight and security light gave them a decent view of that entire area.

“He’s in the tree,” Lucian said, tapping the screen.

Olivia’s gaze went straight to the spot, but it still took her a moment to make out the person’s sleeve. Yes, someone was definitely watching them from the proverbial catbird seat.

“A demon wouldn’t have a reason to climb a tree. And I can’t see Estelle doing something that menial,” she mumbled.

“If she was desperate enough, she would. Besides the branches are low enough that it wouldn’t be hard to climb.”

But was it Estelle?

Olivia couldn’t tell. Only the sleeve was visible. So, Lucian and she waited as he advanced the images frame by frame.

Finally, the person moved. And Olivia saw it then.

The gun.

It was gripped in the person’s hand.

Both relief and another slam of fear went through her. Demons didn’t need guns, either. So, this was human.

Probably.

Olivia cursed. “That idiot could have fired into the house. We were right there in front of the window.”

“The windows are polycarbonate so it would have likely stopped a bullet. Plus, it was dark inside the house, so we wouldn’t have been easily spotted. Still…”

That shoved aside the remnants of her panic attack, and in its place came a healthy dose of anger. Maybe Marissa’s, maybe her own, maybe both. Olivia didn’t care whose emotion it was. This sick son of a bitch would pay for tormenting them like this.

“That’s the cause of the yellow eyes,” he said, tapping the security light nearest the tree. It wasn’t yellow in color, but it reflected off the person’s eyes, much as it would do in a photo.

Lucian clicked through more images, and Olivia saw the flashes of lightning on the screen. The very ones that had driven her out of bed and straight to the window. It must have caused their visitor to move, too, because she saw the blur of motion on the screen as the person eased out of the tree and to the ground.

The person stayed in the shadows, but Lucian kept moving through the images. Frame by frame. Much like the photos of a dying Marissa and Damien that someone had taped to her bedroom walls.

Until finally the person stepped out, already turning to hurry away from the house. No doubt because he or she realized that they’d been spotted.

Lucian froze the image and zoomed in on the face. In the misty light, it looked like a ghost.

“Oh, God,” Olivia said, and she kept it repeating it while she sank to her knees on the floor. “It’s him.”