“Yeah. ”
“And once the sun comes up, you’re out. Totally out. You won’t have to worry about anything because you won’t be conscious. ”
He had a point, but there was something he was missing. “What about the hour before the sun goes down?”
“Secret, I’m going to give you some age-old vampire wisdom to get you through that part. ”
“I’m all ears. ”
“Suck it up. ”
Chapter Nine
A warm breeze roused me, calling for me to open my eyes. I cracked my eyelids and blinked back tears from the searing too-bright light of day.
My bare skin was hot, absorbing the sunshine and making me feel cozier than if I’d been wrapped in a dozen sweaters. I might not get cold often, but I still liked being warm.
I raised the brim of my obnoxiously large sun hat and glanced around, trying not to look directly at the pool. Given the brightness of the day and how still the water was, it would have been like staring into a mirror of the sun.
If my dreams were going to put me poolside in a tropical paradise, couldn’t they at least dim the lighting a little?
“Here,” said a soft, female voice. A pair of oversized sunglasses were thrust into my hand, and I accepted them, blocking out some of the glare.
When I turned to my left to see who my savior was, my heart stopped.
Brigit Stewart smiled back at me, and even in a dream it was painful to see her, especially looking so
vital and gorgeous. She wasn’t as pale as I remembered her—though she’d still been stunning with her alabaster vampire skin. Now she was golden, like she had been when we first met, and her hair had sun-kissed highlights running through it.
This was the human version of Brigit, the version she could have been if Peyton hadn’t turned her to make a point to me.
Vampire or human, it didn’t matter. Seeing her thrilled and destroyed me all at the same time.
“Bri…” I couldn’t figure out what to say to her.
My dreams were a strange place to begin with, which made this that much more difficult. In the past, she’d used our connection—me as her patron, she as my ward—to communicate with one another on a subconscious level.
For a moment I wanted to believe this was that kind of interaction. Somehow I had been wrong about her death, and she’d managed a miraculous recovery. Surely that’s what this meant. It couldn’t be my psyche playing cruel tricks on me.
“You look sad. Aren’t you happy to see me?” She practically oozed warmth, her smile drawing me in.
Tears stung the corner of my eyes, threatening to fall, but I blinked them back, worried she might vanish if I turned away for a second.
“Are you real?”
“I don’t know how to answer that. I’m here, aren’t I? So I guess I’m real enough. ”
“Are you alive?” I was trying to work around the elusive, often-aggravating dialogue of a dream.
“I haven’t been alive for a long time. ”
“You know what I mean. ”
“Do you know what you mean?”
My dreams were a fucking nightmare sometimes.
I reached out, hoping by touching her I could get a feel for what was happening. If this was a dream and not some communication from beyond the grave, I needed to know.