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Brannick woke up from a series of dreams that may not have been dreams. He lay on his side in one of Juliet’s back bedrooms and on the floor, and she was with him. He spooned her, his arm draped over her waist, but he couldn’t quite remember how he’d gotten here.
He ached head-to-toe, but that’s when it dawned on him. He wasn’t dead.
He hadn’t died after all.
Somehow, he’d come back from the edge of paradise. But who had called it that?
He squeezed his eyes shut and settled his head on his arm. His vampire healing had kicked in at last. He had a terrible pain from below his sternum, through to his back, and it was hard to breathe because of it.
But he was alive.
Something had given him a push back to the living, back from paradise.
His eyes popped open.
His wife.
He’d been with his wife in Juliet’s home. She’d looked so beautiful, even if she’d only been a ghost.
Without warning, tears slid from his eyes. She’d looked exactly like he remembered her, except in her ghost form, she hadn’t been pregnant. When she’d died, she’d been seven months along.
He huffed a sigh and lived with the pain of his loss for a few minutes, remembering Olivia and their four-year-old, Kelly. Eventually, his wife’s most recent visit replaced his sadness. He even smiled.
She’d spoken about taking care of both their children, getting them grown up. Was that what happened after death or had he made it all up within his unconscious mind in order to make it back to Juliet?
Yet, somehow he knew it was all true. Life was a mystery, death an even greater one.
He checked his internal clock, the part of him created through the alter transformation that kept his sun-sensitive vampire nature safe. The black-out shutters were in place, which meant dawn had come and gone, but he was surprised to find it was past noon.
He thought back, trying to recall how he’d gotten to Juliet’s second bedroom. He remembered dropping out of his dreamglide and somehow forcing himself to a place of consciousness to help Juliet. Roche had arrived ready to hijack her into some kind of weird-ass smoky dreamglide.
Yep, the bastard had tremendous fae abilities.
As weak as Brannick had been, he’d sent Juliet a stream of vampire power in order to help her fight off Roche. With it, she’d rebuilt her vampire shield, which had sent Roche packing.
But it was later, after each of them had left the dreamglide that she’d taken on his physical strength and supported him into the smaller, second bedroom. The shield had kept them hidden from Roche’s men.
He’d passed out again. But Juliet had stayed with him.
He pulled her close now. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, then drifted off again. She’d saved his life in more than one way last night. Perhaps more significantly, she’d been the reason why he’d come back from death.
She’d needed him. Roche would have had her otherwise.
The battle with Roche and afterward the near-death experience had changed something inside Brannick. He’d been angry with Juliet when he’d first learned she’d been dreamgliding him. Yet he knew now he’d been a willing participant. More than that, he’d essentially been her lover for five months.
He had a hard time wrapping his head around this reality, even though the vivid memories which had surfaced told him the truth. He also felt a profound affection for the woman, but in real-time he barely knew her.
He leaned close and sniffed Juliet’s strawberry-scented hair. She was so familiar, yet in many ways still a stranger.
He didn’t know what to make of the situation. Maybe when he was fully healed he would understand better how to move forward with her.
For now, he needed to heal.
With that, he drifted off again.