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“Yes, she was. She did the right thing and it got her killed. My father rushed to save her and it got him killed. I lost them both because they did the right thing. They acted heroic.”

“Would you have had them act differently?”

He sighed. “No.”

“You’re just like them, Jonas. You would go up the mountain and take on the army in order to stop them from coming here to take Lily and Daniel. That’s the kind of man you are because you come from them.”

“I have nightmares,” he confessed. “Even now.”

“That’s the kind of trauma that stays with you. The good thing is, you also have so many wonderful memories that horrible man can never take from you.”

“He managed to overshadow the good memories for a very long time.” He rubbed his thumb along her knuckles. “He still does,” he admitted.

“Then we’ll have to make it a priority to see that he doesn’t. I’ll ask you to tell me something you did with your parents as often as I can. I didn’t have parents, so you’ll have to share yours with me. That way, I’ll get to know them.”

He liked the sound of that. If she got to know his parents, she could tell stories to their children. He wanted his parents to be alive to his children. He had photographs and videos stored. So much memorabilia from the circus. So many happy memories. He thought about that and what Lily had told Camellia. Kyle had given him the gist of the conversation, and he’d replayed it, looking into Camellia’s mind through their connection, on his way to his home. He had judged Lily harshly, and yet he wanted those very things for his children—the photographs and videos that would keep his parents alive for them.

“That sounds fair, honey.” He let himself fall asleep, feeling happier and more at peace than he had since his parents died. Camellia might not realize it yet, but her declaration meant she had decided to stay with him.

14

Jonas lifted Camellia into his arms, liking the way she turned into his body, her arms sliding around his neck. Kicking the front door closed behind him, he strode through his house straight to the master bedroom.

He’d had two erotic dreams the short while they’d been on the verandah. Two. He rarely had even one dream at night, let alone two of them. But apparently Camellia turned him on whether he was awake or not.

Both dreams had ripped him from sleep, his body on fire—a painful, heavy, brutal desire that had turned his cock to absolute steel. He’d never been so full or so hard. The zipper of his jeans was the only thing holding the roaring beast back, and he knew that second dream was going to be the death of him if he didn’t take control of the situation.

He had slipped into the house and showered, making it short, the hot water striking his skin so that he felt every drop sizzling through to his bones. It was an odd reaction—again, one he’d never had before. He found himself fisting his cock, desperate for relief, but it quickly became apparent he damn well wasn’t getting any that way. Frustrated, and so hard it was painful, he returned to the bedroom where his woman stood near the bed.

“You smell good.” Camellia rubbed her face in his neck like a cat. “I had dreams about you last night.”

Locked behind his rigid zipper, his cock pulsed and jerked, his heartbeat pounding through the blood already forcing the denim into a desperate bulge. “What kind of dreams?” His voice was so hoarse he barely recognized it. Lowering her bare feet to the floor, he caught the hem of her shirt. “Arms up.”

She obeyed without hesitation.

Jonas dragged the shirt over her head, balled the material into his fist and tossed it into the corner of the room. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at her. He knew she had curves under her clothes, her breasts were beautiful to him. Staggering. Round and jutting out, her nipples taut perfection.

“Woman, you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He bent his head and took her left breast into his mouth while his hands dropped to the waist of her leggings. He just wanted one taste to see how she reacted to his possession.

Her arms cradled his head, her entire body shivering. He caught her nipple gently between his teeth, bit down for a brief moment and then sucked the sting away before pulling his head back to pay attention to her leggings. Little goosebumps rose on her skin. He liked that her endorphins responded that fast to his touch.

“Need to get rid of these. Get them off you.”

Her breathing had gone ragged and she nodded. “The material feels like it’s almost burning my skin.”


Tags: Christine Feehan GhostWalkers Paranormal