Read Online Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 by Amber Kallyn - Free Book Online
Authors: Amber Kallyn
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her senses. Heady. Masculine. Her worry slipped back a little, replaced by attraction for the man. She licked her dry lips, swallowed.
It had been eons since she’d been a simpering miss, sheltered from the world and especially from men. Over the centuries, she’d learned one of the most important lessons of life.
It was fleeting.
Happiness was fleeting.
Everything was fleeting.
Nothing lasted forever, so one needed to take while the getting was good.
That included the pleasure of a lover. Not that she’d had all that many. She was picky, she could admit that. She’d never really had a checklist of attributes she enjoyed in a male. If she did, Eric wouldn’t hit many of them.
Yet, still, he pushed her buttons in ways she couldn’t deny.
Not that it mattered. He could barely stand to touch her—avoided it at all possible times. Therefore nothing would come of it. And that was fine. There were more important things to think about right now. Like getting some answers for Irish, and everyone else in her coven, missing and murdered.
She let her eyes drift closed once more.
They woke her as Blake was leaving. She said her good-byes. After checking on Irish who, though still unconscious, seemed a little better, she headed up to her bedroom. She fell into bed, hoping tomorrow brought better news than one of her coven members was on the brink of death.
Chapter Eight
H ours later, Cat woke to a scream coming from down the hall. She jumped out of bed and raced to Eric’s room. Slamming the door open, she ran inside, ready to do battle with whatever he fought.
The fire burned bright. She took in the room, then stopped short.
Eric lay in bed, the covers twisted around his hips. He thrashed side to side, then shot a fist out, landing a punch on nothing but air.
His brow creased as he shouted again. “Brandon!”
Quickly crossing the room, she called, “Eric?”
He jerked sideways, then onto his back, caught in a nightmare.
Bending over him, she grabbed his shoulders. Calloused hands clutched around her neck, cutting off her air. Instinct took over. She reared back and slammed her fist into his jaw.
His grip loosened enough to gasp a breath.
She hit him again.
His hands fell onto his chest as his mumbles quieted. Stepping back and slumping in a chair at the side of the bed, she massaged her aching throat.
Slowly, his eyes opened, but they were blank, unseeing.
“Eric? It’s all right. You’re in my house. Nothing can harm you here,” she whispered, repeating it until he glanced at her.
“Cat? Did you see my brother?” His voice was still laced with sleep. His eyes shone from agony, as if his soul was being tortured.
“No. He’s not here. Just you and me.”
He blinked a few times, his jaw tightening. Then his dark glare came back. “What are you doing in my room?” He jerked up, hastily making sure he was still clothed.
“You were having a nightmare.”
He glanced at her neck as she continued to rub it. “What happened?”
Smiling a little, she replied, “Your hands, my throat.”
With a groan, he rubbed a palm over his face. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”
“You could at least apologize,” she snapped.
“Sorry.” The word was clipped, abrupt, but rang with sincerity.
Mollified, she settled back into the chair, folding her hands in her lap. “You want to tell me about it? Talking can help bad dreams have less power.”
“It wasn’t a bad dream.” He sounded relaxed, still partly asleep.
“Really? Not what it sounded like from my end.”
His lips quirked, almost into a shadow of a grin. “I was fighting alongside my brother.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And that’s not a bad dream?”
Amazingly, his lips curled more. “No. It was fun.”
Shaking her head slightly, she reminded herself he was a warrior. Her gaze dipped to his muscled chest, partly visible from his unbuttoned shirt. His pecks and abs were well defined. The man didn’t have a six-pack, he
It had been eons since she’d been a simpering miss, sheltered from the world and especially from men. Over the centuries, she’d learned one of the most important lessons of life.
It was fleeting.
Happiness was fleeting.
Everything was fleeting.
Nothing lasted forever, so one needed to take while the getting was good.
That included the pleasure of a lover. Not that she’d had all that many. She was picky, she could admit that. She’d never really had a checklist of attributes she enjoyed in a male. If she did, Eric wouldn’t hit many of them.
Yet, still, he pushed her buttons in ways she couldn’t deny.
Not that it mattered. He could barely stand to touch her—avoided it at all possible times. Therefore nothing would come of it. And that was fine. There were more important things to think about right now. Like getting some answers for Irish, and everyone else in her coven, missing and murdered.
She let her eyes drift closed once more.
They woke her as Blake was leaving. She said her good-byes. After checking on Irish who, though still unconscious, seemed a little better, she headed up to her bedroom. She fell into bed, hoping tomorrow brought better news than one of her coven members was on the brink of death.
Chapter Eight
H ours later, Cat woke to a scream coming from down the hall. She jumped out of bed and raced to Eric’s room. Slamming the door open, she ran inside, ready to do battle with whatever he fought.
The fire burned bright. She took in the room, then stopped short.
Eric lay in bed, the covers twisted around his hips. He thrashed side to side, then shot a fist out, landing a punch on nothing but air.
His brow creased as he shouted again. “Brandon!”
Quickly crossing the room, she called, “Eric?”
He jerked sideways, then onto his back, caught in a nightmare.
Bending over him, she grabbed his shoulders. Calloused hands clutched around her neck, cutting off her air. Instinct took over. She reared back and slammed her fist into his jaw.
His grip loosened enough to gasp a breath.
She hit him again.
His hands fell onto his chest as his mumbles quieted. Stepping back and slumping in a chair at the side of the bed, she massaged her aching throat.
Slowly, his eyes opened, but they were blank, unseeing.
“Eric? It’s all right. You’re in my house. Nothing can harm you here,” she whispered, repeating it until he glanced at her.
“Cat? Did you see my brother?” His voice was still laced with sleep. His eyes shone from agony, as if his soul was being tortured.
“No. He’s not here. Just you and me.”
He blinked a few times, his jaw tightening. Then his dark glare came back. “What are you doing in my room?” He jerked up, hastily making sure he was still clothed.
“You were having a nightmare.”
He glanced at her neck as she continued to rub it. “What happened?”
Smiling a little, she replied, “Your hands, my throat.”
With a groan, he rubbed a palm over his face. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”
“You could at least apologize,” she snapped.
“Sorry.” The word was clipped, abrupt, but rang with sincerity.
Mollified, she settled back into the chair, folding her hands in her lap. “You want to tell me about it? Talking can help bad dreams have less power.”
“It wasn’t a bad dream.” He sounded relaxed, still partly asleep.
“Really? Not what it sounded like from my end.”
His lips quirked, almost into a shadow of a grin. “I was fighting alongside my brother.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And that’s not a bad dream?”
Amazingly, his lips curled more. “No. It was fun.”
Shaking her head slightly, she reminded herself he was a warrior. Her gaze dipped to his muscled chest, partly visible from his unbuttoned shirt. His pecks and abs were well defined. The man didn’t have a six-pack, he
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