Beauty in Spring (Beauty #1)(5)
It also usually doesn’t stretch the length of a manor house, then shrink to less than three feet long. Right now it extends from the bed frame to my neck with no slack in between.
This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
The realization is a reassuring one, easing my panic and calming the racing beat of my heart.
This can’t be real.
So I’m dreaming. I must have fallen asleep in the car and now I’m dreaming.
Okay. My ragged breathing slows. Okay.
I’m okay. Just having a dream filled with some really disturbing symbolism.
But it’ll end when I wake up. Letting go of the chain, I rise to my feet and look around the room. Gideon’s bedchamber has its own access to the solarium—which, when we were young, was his favorite room in the entire house. The door leading to that glass-walled chamber has been torn away; nothing remains but the twisted, broken hinges. Gray daylight spills through the doorway.
And I know this is only a dream—a nightmare—yet still my heart freezes when I hear the soft growl coming from that room. Still my body begins trembling when I see the hulking shadow of…something prowling toward Gideon’s bedchamber.
Something. Or someone.
Pulse thudding in my throat, I drop into a crouch beside the big bed, caught in an agony of indecision. If I run for it, surely the noise of my pounding feet and the slithering chain would alert them. If I stay right here, remain very quiet, maybe whatever is in the solarium won’t realize I’m hiding. Silence seems like my best option.
But oh my god I want to run.
Abruptly the growling stops, replaced by the sound of…an inhalation? As if someone is taking a long, deep breath.
As if something is scenting the air.
And they are in this room. In this bedchamber. And coming closer.
Cold sweat drips down my spine. Every muscle in my body tenses, preparing to flee. Then I hear a footstep, then another, coming ever closer, and I can’t bear this anymore. I’ve got to get out of here, I need to run.
Mentally I measure the distance to the door. I just have to get that far, slam the heavy oak shut behind me, give myself a few extra seconds head start—and hope that slamming the door doesn’t prevent the chain from magically stretching again. Because if it pulls tight while I’m sprinting away, I’m going to break my neck.
On a soft prayer, I dart for the door.
A heavy body crashes into mine before I take three steps, knocking the air from my lungs, spinning me around—
And dumping me back onto soft cushion of the bed.
I shriek in terror, ready to fight. Pinning my flailing hands, the giant figure looms over me, his dark hair a wild tangle, most of his face in shadow…
His face.
Abruptly my struggles stop, my heart squeezing tight in my chest. “Gideon?”
Eyes as green as spring meet mine, narrowing as they search my features. “When I dream of you, Cora Walker, you do not usually run from me.”
I hardly recognize the voice that seems to reverberate from deep within his chest before emerging on a rumbling growl.
I hardly recognize him—or the way he’s gazing down at me. His eyes were always filled with warmth when he looked at me, but now they’re glowing with heat, like glass drawn from a furnace.
More aware of the hard, muscular body leaning over mine than I’ve ever been aware of anything before, I ask breathlessly, “What do I usually do?”
His head dips toward mine, that thick tangle of hair smelling cold and crisp, like a night spent in the woods. I gasp as he buries his face against my neck, inhaling deeply. His mouth skims a burning line from the hollow of my throat to my jaw.
“Usually you’re waiting for me in my bed, your soft thighs open and your body yearning for my touch.” That roughened voice thickens. “The beast within me enjoyed it when you ran, Cora.”
Oh god. The beast in me is enjoying the way he’s holding me down, breathing in the scent of my skin. “Does he?”
Against my ear, Gideon makes a rumbling sound of assent. “But you smell far sweeter this time. As if you are not a dream at all.”
Mind swimming in a haze of desire, I tell him, “I think I’m the one who is dreaming.”
“Then I shall make you scream so loud that you will awaken.” The gravelly promise in his voice is followed by the shock of his big hand pushing beneath my skirt. A stunned breath catches in my throat, my body tensing—then arching toward his on a ragged gasp when his long fingers dip into my panties, delving through slippery wetness and heat.
A tortured groan rips from his chest. “You are wetter than ever I have dreamed. Shall I taste you, then, my sweet Cora? Shall I lick and tease your…your little…”
His body goes utterly still. His hand withdraws from my panties, and when he pulls back, his fingers glisten with the wetness of my arousal—and he’s holding the glittering thread of the gold chain, which had been trapped beneath my body when he’d tossed me onto the bed. I’m still lying upon it, but now I feel the tug at the back of my neck and strange sensation of the line being pulled up between my legs as Gideon raises it higher, his gaze following the trailing length to the bedpost.
Abruptly he drops the chain and backs away, staring at me with an expression near to horror. “You are here. You have come.” Torment darkens the green of his eyes and he rips his hands through the long tangle of his hair, his voice hardening, taut anger whitening his lips. “Bloody fucking hell, Cora! You should never have come!”