Wild and Free (The Three #3)(92)

*

“Bao bei,” Abel called, gently shaking me.

My eyes opened and I saw him leaning over me. Instantly, I latched on, holding tight, pressing deep.

Abel rolled to his back, keeping me close.

“You had another dream,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“You remember it?” he asked.

I searched for it.

Nothing.

“No,” I whispered.

“Try, *cat. It might be important.”

I tried but still got nothing.

“It’s gone,” I told him.

“That’s okay,” he replied softly.

“Did I say anything?” I asked.

“Just screamed ‘no,’” he shared.

I lifted my head to look at him. “Screamed?”

“Yeah, you sounded scared and I don’t like that for you, Lilah. But still, part of me wishes you’d say more so I might be able to get a lock on what’s happening.”

I didn’t like me screaming in my sleep either, not for me and not for Abel, but I agreed.

“Maybe I can get hypnotized or something so I’ll remember,” I suggested. Abel said nothing so I asked, “You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

“The situation we’re in, not sure I want anyone controlling your mind.”

At his words, it hit me.

“Do you think you can get in there?”

His brows drew together. “What?”

“When I’m dreaming. Do you think you can get in my head before I wake up? Use your mind-control abilities, see what’s happening?”

He shook his head. “Never tried that. Not sure I can even do that.”

“Maybe you should try it.”

He studied me for a second before muttering, “We’ll see, next time you dream.”

“Okay.”

“We got a big meeting today, baby. Best get up.”

I sighed and repeated, “Okay.”

But Abel didn’t let me go.

He rolled me to my back, him on me, his eyes to my neck where he also put his finger, trailing it like a whisper along my pulse point.

“First, I wanna feed.”

I felt my body relax and my lips smile.

He looked to my mouth, then to my eyes, and his got lazy.

“You wanna take care of me,” he said quietly.

I so did.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“My Lilah’s sweet, warm blood…for eternity.”

My head tilted on the pillow and I lifted a hand to his neck and stroked his jaw, feeling the ridge of his scar against the pad of my thumb, loving how he gave that to me.

But still, his words made a thought occur to me, so I asked, “Will it get boring?”

“No.”

I didn’t believe that.

“You sure?”

“You taste like you every time, but you also taste different. Sometimes it’s richer. Sometimes it’s thicker. Sometimes it’s more tangy. Sometimes sharp. Sometimes sweet. Don’t know what’s happening in you to make it that way, but it isn’t like I’m eatin’ steak for every meal. It’s a variety, depending on the time of day, where your mood is at, whatever.”

“Wow. That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Cool.” Then he dipped his head and ran his tongue along my neck. I shivered while he whispered there, “Sometimes I get Lilah cotton candy.”

I felt his tongue again and slid my hand from the side of his neck into his hair.

“Sometimes I get Lilah nectarine.”

I felt his tongue again at my neck, but the numbness was invading.

I wasn’t numb at my ear where he whispered, “Sometimes I get creamy Lilah.”

“Abel,” I breathed, squirming beneath him, thinking he was about to get seriously creamy Lilah.

He slid a hand low on my belly, almost there but not there enough.

“What’re you gonna give me today, *cat?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” I answered.

He slid his hand an inch lower. “Want me to find out?”

“Yes,” I panted, clutching his hair and lifting my hips as best I could.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he murmured, sliding his nose down my jaw as he slid his hand lower.

Then he found out.

And whatever it was for him, for me, it was awesome.

*

“You nervous?”

We were walking down the hall toward the dining room where we were going to have a breakfast meeting with our Save the World Posse.

I looked up at Abel and answered, “No, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “You just seem…not right.”

My head jerked. “Not right?”

“You were right when I was drawing from you and doin’ the other things to you,” he said, and I grinned. He was not grinning. “Before that and since, you’ve been off.”

I stopped outside the door to the dining room, stopping him with me. “Off how?”

“Can’t get a lock on it, but it’s like you’re tweaked.”

“Lots of shit is going down, Abel,” I reminded him.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Probably just tweaked myself and reading too much into it.”