But even in my slumber, I knew danger lurked. The gleam of long white teeth took me from pleasure to pain in an instant. And it wasn’t a good pain. It was the ice-in-my-veins, sheer-terror kind.
I sip my juice, and the sweetness flows through me as the vision of a tattoo flickers along the edge of my consciousness. It’s a paw print, but I can’t quite see the details. They elude me like the flat belly I used to crave.
This nightmare’s been haunting me for a week now. Like clockwork, I wake in a panic that has me up for the day, after only a few hours of much-needed rest. A low-grade headache that has nothing to do with alcohol throbs behind my temple.
“I need to get out of here.”
My glass thumps on the counter, and I return to my bedroom to throw on baggy jeans and a T-shirt. I slide on my worn Vans and leave. My sneakers tap down the wood plank stairs of the apartment building as salty air wraps around me. It should provide comfort, but it doesn’t for me. I thrive on the earth-born power of solid ground.
Waves washing ashore sound as I unlock my bike from the rack set out for tenants. When I sit on my hard bike seat it reminds me of my previous aroused state, and I push off the pavement to cycle to the park.
The methodic rhythm of my feet churning the pedals calms me as I move along the nearly empty street. The sour odor of a restaurant dumpster floats toward me as a garbage truck empties it. Fortunately it’s followed by the aroma of fried goodness wafting out of my favorite bakery, and I stop.
I don’t bother chaining my bike this time. The heavy glass door of the cafe creaks when I pull it open. It moves easily, and I’m startled by a shaggy-looking blond guy. He lifts his head when he notices me, and my heart returns to normal when I see brown eyes that make it clear he wasn’t the man in my dream. He says, “Sorry, didn’t see you.”
He holds the door for me as I say, “Thanks.” I turn to watch him walk away, trying to recall the face of my dream man. It’s already faded and as vague as the clawed tattoo.
After purchasing a pastry and a small coffee in a cup that fits in my bike’s water-bottle holder, I continue to my destination. When I get there, anxiousness flutters in my stomach. I quickly lock up my bike and kick off my shoes to carry them. The paper bakery bag rustles in my hand as I begin to walk.
For a moment the odor of musty leaves on a forest floor tickles my nose, but it’s only a memory of my nightmare, because the public park is well maintained. Damp grass slips between my toes, and I sigh at the sensation as I walk over to my favorite tree.
The coffee is still too hot to drink, and while I wait for it to cool I lie down on my back to stare into the canopy of leaves above my head. Early morning light filters through in tiny pricks of light, and the high-pitched call of a seagull reminds me I live on the ocean.
This park is my touchstone. I crave trees, cool shade, and the spongy floor of a forest. The patchy lawn and hard-packed dirt under an oak will have to do. I close my eyes and imagine a brook trickling in the background as I relax into my sleepiness.
Pebbles under my feet make me walk gingerly toward deeper water. A deep baritone laugh carries over the lake, and I gaze at the large man it came from. His hair is wet and dark, while green eyes almost glow in his tan face.
My core begins to tremble with desire for him. I sink down into the water, and my breasts float weightlessly. I’m naked, and I guess he is too. Turned on even more by the realization, I swim toward him.
When I reach the man, he whispers, “Carly.” Callused hands larger than any I’ve ever known caress my body, and I become ravenous for him.
He thrusts into me quickly, and my climax is moments away when a glint of white punctures my pleasure with fear. Fangs? The man grabs my hand and sinks his teeth into my wrist. Intense heat slices into me, and I open my mouth to scream. I pull away, and there’s a paw print tattoo on the inside of my arm with blood gushing out of it.
Sitting up quickly, I gasp and knock over my coffee cup. “Shit!” I scramble to retrieve it before too much leaks out the top.
My heart is thumping hard against my chest. Memorize the tattoo. Don’t forget it! But it’s already gone.
2
Chapter 2
Carly
My pencil scratches against paper as I finish my sketch. Looking over the tribal-like paw print, I notice something seems off, but I can't put my finger on it. The actual design still eludes me. I’m at the tattoo parlor waiting for my next client.
"Babe."
Ugh. I hate hearing that name come from Ray's mouth.
I snap back. "I'm not your babe. I believe the last customer you had might be though." Ray is a manwhore and my ex. The one I caught banging a skinny chick over the table instead of tattooing her.