Madeline licked her lips, suddenly hoping it was one of those dreams. The kind where she woke up sweaty and tangled in her sheets, frustrated because she woke up but still deliriously happy with her brain for the good time. Because, yes, she wanted to have a very sexual dream with this man, in the cookie scented room, possibly involving being bent over that elegant bedframe while clutching those ridiculous blankets.
Smoothing her hands down her legs, she realized she was dressed as strangely as the dream man. Instead of jeans and a tank top, her body was encased in a red dress that dropped in heavy folds to cover her feet. Silver filigree wove through the velvety fabric, a delicate dance of bright veins against the bloody red of the gown.
But she wasn’t in this dream to get too concerned with her wardrobe. The only thing that was of particular interest about the dress was the fact that it would provide easy access to Mr. Tall, Dark and Red-eyed over there. With that in mind, she walked over to him confidently.
“Sure, I came back.” she answered. “And you’ve been waiting for me.”
He blinked, appearing confused, and she was briefly annoyed with her imagination. If she was going to play along with the corny script in this dream, the least he could do was remember his line.
“I have, yes, my Magdala.” He didn’t move, which wasn’t really fitting her horny hopes for this experience at all. A good dream man would sweep her off her feet. Tumble her onto the mattress. Tell her he can’t bear to live another second without the taste of her flesh. Something.
Not call her a weird ass name and stand there like a statue—albeit a sexy as fuck one.
“And you want me?” Madeline said. Okay, it came out more as a question, but that was because he just wasn’t meeting my usual expectations of my brain’s ability to conjure a hormone stoked dream.
“Yes, actually, but don’t you have questions? Want to know who I am and why you’re here? Anything?” He looked genuinely stunned and faltering.
Madeline sighed. “Oh, this is going to be one of those talking dreams. Dammit.”
“What?” asked her handsome, but slow on the uptake, prince.
“Look, lemme see if I can help get things on the right track…” With that, she placed her hand on his chest and tilted up on her toes to take his lips. Even if he wasn’t saying the right thing, the man did have a deliciously perfect mouth and the smell of cookies was totally coming from him. And Madeline? She wanted a taste.
Chapter Three
Madeline
She blinked fast, confused. She was back in the urine scented room with the flittering rag curtains, minus dream man. Hell. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a dream so much as a hallucination. Madeline hadn’t been getting enough sleep, not in like ever, and she’d read somewhere that the mind will throw up hallucinations if you don’t give it time to dream.
Still not really proof of paranormal existence, especially since she could still hear the group out by the stairs setting up their camera. She stomped her foot, irritated beyond belief. And still horny, which proved that more than one of her needs were not currently being met.
Sleep deprived, sex deprived, and apparently hallucinating. Also, stupid. She glared at her own foot, as if it had acted independently. Stomping her foot in a house that was crumbling probably wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. But whatever.
Before she could waste more time giving herself hell for being an idiot, she heard a scream. It was high pitched, seemed to last a long, agonizing minute, and then cut off as if someone strangled the sound. Madeline bolted into action, practically sliding into the hallway to catch up to her friends as they, too, tried to find the source of the cacophony. In the room where they’d set up, it appeared some rain was managing to make it past the crumbling old roof as moisture leaked in tentative fingers down the walls. No one was in the room, but as three beams of light—her flashlight was still in her pocket—shined around the space… the moisture seemed to change colors.
Yeah, that was clearly blood pouring down the walls, and Drew lost his shit. “Are you recording this? Someone is getting film, right?”
Since everyone else was holding a flashlight, Madeline fumbled for her phone. She managed to drop it, and Drew just kept freaking out rather than helping her. Once she had it back in hand, she switched to the camera app and started recording.
Not like the blood was slowing down or stopping, though. She managed to record in plenty of time because it was a solid five minutes of bleeding and practically breathing walls. They pulsed a little, and Cammie tucked in close to her side. “Isn’t this freaking you out a little?” she asked Madeline.
“It is kind of why we’re here, right?” But a glance around at her friends revealed Madeline was the only one not scared. Even Carter—usually the enthusiastic one of the bunch—was shaking so hard that his red curls bobbed in the flashlight lit room.