Mixed Blood

Chapter 5

She was there again. Back in that room, strapped to the table, and unable to move. Bindings around her muzzle to keep her from screaming or biting and talons clipped to the bed to keep her from ripping them apart. Men in lab coats, all with the same face, surrounded her. The multiple copies of Ashton Price laughed cruelly at her struggling and muffled begging.

But this time it was different. Instead of plunging needles into her veins or drilling into her bones, they backed away from her. A curtain in front of her fell away, revealing a man bound to an x-frame. Bloody wounds covered his limp body. The laughing echoed, rattling around her aching skull. Then all the Ashton's picked up jumper cables from the tables around them.

She started struggling again, fighting uselessly against the bonds, and desperately trying to get to the man. She had to help him. She had to save him!

The Ashton's pressed the leads into the man's body, and his every muscle convulsed and contracted. Electricity arched off his body, and his head jerked up. She was met with bright, glowing blue eyes with vertical slits for pupils. Then he opened his mouth, and a terrible scream tore at her heart, her soul, and her body.

The scene suddenly turned to sand and twisted and reformed into Dáithí. Just as suddenly, she was free of the bonds and being dragged into a crushing hug. She was back in her human body. Affection for the serpent crashed through her, taking over her body and moving her to act. She threw her arms around him and dragged him down into a deep kiss that he instantly returned.

Hard, rough hands roamed up her naked body, sending ripples of pleasure through her and pulling her close to his powerful body. Then they were in a bed with his knees on either side of her hips and hands by her shoulders. She stared up at the man who had always been there for her. Right from the beginning. He had never let her down, never gave her any reason to doubt his abilities or loyalty. He was perfect for her, and she for him.

Dáithí lowered himself, tilting his head to kiss her jaw, and a deep growl rumbled through his chest. "I love you, little bird."

Rhia sat straight up in the bed, gasping and panting for air. Early morning light streamed in through the break in the curtains, promising a warm fall day. The place next to her where Dáithí had been when she fell asleep was empty.

It was just a dream.

A shudder of relief rippled through her, and she collapsed back into the pillows. The more aware of herself and her surroundings she got, the more she realized that it wasn't just sweat dampening her body. Well, she thought miserably. That's a little fucked up.

Never, in her entire life, had she woken up aroused by her nightmares. Except once. The only one other time her nightmares were interrupted by a sexual fantasy, it had about Dáithí, too. But the last time she'd been in heat, and Nolan had been there to cool her off. What was her excuse this time?

Digging the earplugs out, she listened carefully. Nothing. It was completely silent. Thank fuck. That was an awkward conversation she didn't want to have first thing in the morning.

Shower. She needed a shower. And coffee. And more alcohol. Lots of alcohol. There was a half-bottle of tequila on the floor that she picked up on the way to the bathroom.

Rhia blasted herself with cold water, hoping to shut off her carnal desires, and let her head thud back against the wall. This also wasn't the first time she'd dreamt of Nolan. Sometimes they were the sweetest of memories. Gentle touches and soft words. Other times, like last night, where he was tortured just like she had been. What did it all mean? Why couldn't she just... let it go? Let him go?

He was dead.

He was gone.

Her eyes landed on a small, heart-shaped frame on the vanity. Inside was a small picture of her adopted parents from when they were younger. The lone surviving pictures of Richard Kincaid after Madeline had purged him from her life.