She gave him a peeved glare. "Boy, you're just all chock-full of comfort, aren't you?"
He didn't respond. Cassandra watched the oncoming cars as she tried to think of what she should do. Where she should even begin to try to understand what had happened tonight. Wulf drove them out of the city to a massive estate outside of Minnetonka. All the homes in the area were owned by some of the richest people in the country.
Wulf turned into a driveway that was so long, she couldn't see where it ended. Of course the five-foot-high snow banks didn't help with that. He pressed a tiny button in his visor. The iron gates opened wide.
Cassandra let out a slow, appreciative breath as they proceeded down the driveway and she caught sight of his "house." "Palace" would be much more apropos, and given the fact that her father's house wasn't exactly small potatoes, that said a lot.
It looked very turn-of-the-century with large Greek columns and gardens that still appeared sculpted even in the deep winter snow and frost.
He drove them up the winding driveway to a five-car garage that was designed to look like a stable. Inside, it held Chris's Hummer (it was hard to miss his vanity plate, VIKING), two vintage Harleys, a sleek Ferrari, and one really cool Excalibur. The garage was so clean inside that it reminded her of a showroom. Everything from the ornate crown moldings to the marble floor said "wealthy beyond your wildest dreams."
She arched a brow at that. "You've come a long way from your little stone cottage by the fjord. You must have decided riches weren't so bad after all."
Parking the SUV, Wulf turned to face her with a scowl. "You remember that?"
She ran her gaze from the top of his gorgeous head to the toe of his black biker boots. Even though she was still angry at him, she couldn't suppress the warm tingle of sexual awareness she felt at being so close to such a hot man. He really was scrumptious, for an ass.
And speaking of that, he had a mighty fine one of those too. "I remember all the dreams about us."
His scowl darkened. "Then you really were screwing with my head."
"Hardly!" she snapped, offended by his tone and the accusation. "I didn't have anything to do with it. For all I know, it was you messing with me."
Wulf got out of the truck and slammed the door. Cassandra followed suit.
"D'Aria!" he shouted up at the ceiling. "Get your butt down here. Now!"
Cassandra was stunned when a light blue mist shimmered beside Wulf and a beautiful young woman appeared. With jet-black hair and pale blue eyes, she looked almost like an angel.
Her face emotionless, D'Aria stared eye to eye with him. "I have been told that that was rude, Wulf. If I had feelings, you would have hurt them."
"I'm sorry," he said contritely. "I didn't mean to be curt, but I needed to ask you something about my dreams."
D'Aria looked from him to Cassandra and it was then Cassandra understood. This was one of the Dream-Hunters she had read about on the Dream-Hunter.Com Web site. All of the Dream-Hunters possessed black hair and pale eyes. These Greek gods of sleep had once been cursed by Zeus so that none of them were capable of feeling emotions.
They really were beautiful. Ethereal. And even though D'Aria was solid, there was something about her that was also shimmery. Something that let you know she wasn't as real as everything else in the room.
Cassandra felt a sudden, almost childish impulse to reach out and touch the dream goddess to see if D'Aria was made of flesh or something else.
"You two met in your dreams?" D'Aria asked Wulf.
Wulf nodded. "Was it real?"
D'Aria cocked her head slightly as she thought about that. Her pale eyes held a faraway, fragile look to them. "If you both recall it, then yes." Her gaze sharpened as she looked up at Wulf. "But it wasn't from any of us. Since you are under my care, none of the other Oneroi would have interfered with your dreams without telling me."
"Are you sure?" he asked emphatically.
"Yes. It's the one code we are all careful to follow. When a Dark-Hunter is given over to one of us to care for, we never trespass without a direct invitation."
That all too familiar frown creased Wulf's brow. Cassandra was beginning to wonder if the "real" Wulf was capable of any other expression than that sinister, intense look. "Since I'm under your care, how is it that you didn't know about the dreams I've had with her?"
D'Aria shrugged in a gesture that looked rather awkward for her. It was obvious the shrug was a practiced expression. "You didn't summon me to your dreams, nor were you hurt or in need of my healing. I don't spy on your unconscious mind without cause, Wulf. Dreams are private matters and only the evil Skoti go where they're not invited."
D'Aria turned to look at her. She held her hand out. "You may touch me, Cassandra."
"How do you know my name?"