What would it be like to be remembered by a lover again? Just once? A strange, swirling mist engulfed him and the next thing he knew, he was in an unfamiliar bed. Wulf grimaced at the size of it—It was only a full-sized bed so he had to bend his legs to keep his feet from dangling over the edge of it.
Frowning, he looked around the dark room. The white walls were stark and covered with art posters. Something about it had an institutional quality to it. There was a desk built into the wall by the window, a boxlike dresser with a TV and stereo, and a lava lamp burning in the corner, casting strange shadows over the walls.
It was then he realized he wasn't alone in the bed. Someone was lying next to him.
Wulf studied the woman who was dressed in a prudish pink flannel gown that obscured her body as she lay with her back to him. Leaning over her, he saw the curly, strawberry-blond hair that she wore plaited.
He smiled the moment he recognized the woman from the club. He liked this dream…
But not as much as he liked the look of her serene face. And unlike the Daimons, he didn't mind "unwrapping" his food. His body instantly stirring, he rolled her over onto her back and started unbuttoning her gown.
Chapter 3
Cassandra's eyes fluttered open as she felt strong, hot hands unbuttoning her flannel gown. Startled, she stared up at the Dark-Hunter who had saved her life at the club.
His midnight eyes were hungry with desire as he looked down at her. "It's you," she breathed, her head fuzzy from her dreams.
He smiled at that and appeared delighted by her words. "You remember me?"
"Of course. How could I ever forget the way you kiss?"
His smile widened wickedly as he parted her gown and ran his hand over her bared skin. She moaned at the warmth of his palm on her flesh. Against her will, a stab of desire tore through her as her breasts tingled from his fiery touch. The calluses of his rough fingers lightly, gently scraped her swollen nipples. It made her stomach contract even more. Made her throb as moisture pooled itself between her legs, making her want even more to take his entire strength into her body.
She realized her Viking savior was completely naked in her bed. Well, maybe not completely. He did wear a silver necklace of Thor's hammer and a small crucifix. Okay, that was pushing it. But he wore the necklace well against his tawny skin.
The dim light caressed every contour of his magnificent body. His shoulders were wide and well muscled, his chest a perfect sculpting of male proportions.
And his rear…
It was the stuff of legends!
His chest and legs were lightly covered by dark hair. His strong, lightly whiskered chin begged for a woman to lick her way down it until she could tilt his head back and continue on to his luscious neck.
But what fascinated her was the intricate Norse tattoo that covered his entire right shoulder and ended in a highly stylized band that encircled his biceps. It was beautiful.
And yet it didn't hold a candle to the man in her arms. He was gorgeous. Mouth wateringly so.
"What are you doing?" she asked as he traced circles around her breasts with his hot tongue.
"I'm making love to you."
Had she not been asleep, those words would have terrified her. But all thoughts of fear and everything else scattered as he cupped her breast in his hand. She hissed in pleasure and expectation. Gently, he massaged her, rubbing his callused palm against her taut nipple until it was so tight that she wanted to beg him to kiss her. Beg him to suckle her.
"So soft," he whispered against her lips before he claimed them as well.
Cassandra sighed. Her body burned with an astounding intensity as she ran her hands over his bare, broad shoulders. She'd never felt the likes of them. Well formed and perfect, they rippled with his power and strength.
And she wanted to feel more of him. He moved his hand away from her and reached for her braid. She watched him study her hair as he loosened it. "Why do you wear your hair like this?" he asked in that intoxicatingly deep, accented voice.
"The curls tangle if I don't."
His eyes snapped fire as if he thought her braid were some kind of abomination. "I don't like it. Your hair is too beautiful to be bound."
He ran his hands through her freed curls and his gaze instantly turned tender. Soft. He brushed her hair with his fingers until it covered her bared breasts. His breath fell against her skin while he teased her nipples with her curls and his touch.
"There now," he said, his Norse accent smooth and lilting. "A more beautiful woman, I've never seen."
Her body molten, Cassandra could do nothing but watch him watch her. He was stunningly handsome. Masculine in a barbaric way that made the woman in her thrum with primal need.
It was obvious this was a dangerous man. Basic. Hard. Unyielding.
"What is your name?" she asked as he dipped his head to nibble her neck. His whiskered cheeks prickled her flesh, raising chills all over her as he tasted her.
"Wulf."
She shivered as she realized the source of this midnight fantasy. "Like Beowulf?"