Knight-in-Arms - Demons: (BWWM Interracial Paranormal Billionaire Shifter Romance Part Three) by Athena Dore Page B
Authors: Athena Dore
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he clawed them from her body. He brought the tangled spaghetti jumble of organs to his lips and licked them, savouring the metallic taste of her blood. And then, against her cries, against her protests, he ate her alive.
Xavier jolted awake.
The horror of what he’d just done gripped him. He panicked. How could he?
“Xavier?” asked a voice. It was Rochelle. She was alive. Relief rushed over him. So, it was a dream, a nightmare? Rochelle was alive . Never before had he been so glad something had been just a dream.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing” he said.
Rochelle turned on the lamp and sat up.
“It didn’t seem like ‘nothing’”. She’d woken up to him fidgeting and sighing and tossing and turning. Looking at him now, his forehead was covered with perspiration and his breathing was fast and desperate. There was a troubled look in his eyes.
“I had a nightmare”, he said, “that I… ate you”. It had been so vivid, so real. He could still feel the relish as he shovelled her intestines into his mouth, the satisfying taste of human flesh, the way it slipped over his tongue and slid down his throat.
Rochelle crawled across the bed and knelt beside him. She felt him shudder as she put her arms round him, drawing him into her embrace. He buried his head in her shoulder and put his arms round her, tightly, as though trying to remind himself this was real, that she was real.
“It was just a dream” she said, stroking his hair.
Just a dream. That was the problem. Was this the kind of dream where you were so worried about something bad happening, like messing up a public speech in front of three hundred people, that you had a nightmare about it? Or, was this his subconscious telling him what he really wanted to do to her, his deepest, darkest desires?
Something he didn’t want to happen, or something he desperately did… Trying to decide which it was is what kept him awake at night, his thoughts tumbling over one another, smothered in guilt, until his concerns grew larger and larger, like a snowball rolling down a hill.
* * *
It was finally her birthday. For the past few years, she hadn’t really celebrated the day. She’d just gone to work in the mid-morning, taught her classes and then come home around 11pm. The fact that she was celebrating her birthday in Florence was enchanting in itself, but the fact that she was celebrating it at all was phenomenal.
Xavier had bought her a huge bouquet of flowers where lilies, her favourites, with their gorgeous fragrance featured prominently. She felt the warmth of the sentiment, though good luck getting those through customs on the way back home, she thought.
There was another present for her: a box wrapped in gold with a blue satin bow.
“What’s this?” she asked. She still felt a tiny bit awkward receiving gifts from him, but since it was her birthday, it was acceptable, just for today.
“Open it and you’ll find out” he said.
“A key?” she asked. It was threaded through by a delicate gold chain.
“Of course”, he said dryly, “It’s the key to my heart”.
“What a sentimental fool”.
“Wear it today and see how much of a sentimental fool I am” he said.
They went to the Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Flower. Rochelle was very eager to climb to the top of the dome and look out across Florence.
“Did you know there are four hundred and sixty-three steps to the top?” she asked as they stood outside, in the square of the Piazza del Duomo.
No answer.
She turned to Xavier. He was looking across the Piazza, scrutinising their surroundings.
“Xavier!” she called. He looked down at her, startled.
“What’s the matter?”
“You’re not listening”.
“Sorry” he said.
“If this is boring you, you can go back to the hotel; I don’t
Xavier jolted awake.
The horror of what he’d just done gripped him. He panicked. How could he?
“Xavier?” asked a voice. It was Rochelle. She was alive. Relief rushed over him. So, it was a dream, a nightmare? Rochelle was alive . Never before had he been so glad something had been just a dream.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing” he said.
Rochelle turned on the lamp and sat up.
“It didn’t seem like ‘nothing’”. She’d woken up to him fidgeting and sighing and tossing and turning. Looking at him now, his forehead was covered with perspiration and his breathing was fast and desperate. There was a troubled look in his eyes.
“I had a nightmare”, he said, “that I… ate you”. It had been so vivid, so real. He could still feel the relish as he shovelled her intestines into his mouth, the satisfying taste of human flesh, the way it slipped over his tongue and slid down his throat.
Rochelle crawled across the bed and knelt beside him. She felt him shudder as she put her arms round him, drawing him into her embrace. He buried his head in her shoulder and put his arms round her, tightly, as though trying to remind himself this was real, that she was real.
“It was just a dream” she said, stroking his hair.
Just a dream. That was the problem. Was this the kind of dream where you were so worried about something bad happening, like messing up a public speech in front of three hundred people, that you had a nightmare about it? Or, was this his subconscious telling him what he really wanted to do to her, his deepest, darkest desires?
Something he didn’t want to happen, or something he desperately did… Trying to decide which it was is what kept him awake at night, his thoughts tumbling over one another, smothered in guilt, until his concerns grew larger and larger, like a snowball rolling down a hill.
* * *
It was finally her birthday. For the past few years, she hadn’t really celebrated the day. She’d just gone to work in the mid-morning, taught her classes and then come home around 11pm. The fact that she was celebrating her birthday in Florence was enchanting in itself, but the fact that she was celebrating it at all was phenomenal.
Xavier had bought her a huge bouquet of flowers where lilies, her favourites, with their gorgeous fragrance featured prominently. She felt the warmth of the sentiment, though good luck getting those through customs on the way back home, she thought.
There was another present for her: a box wrapped in gold with a blue satin bow.
“What’s this?” she asked. She still felt a tiny bit awkward receiving gifts from him, but since it was her birthday, it was acceptable, just for today.
“Open it and you’ll find out” he said.
“A key?” she asked. It was threaded through by a delicate gold chain.
“Of course”, he said dryly, “It’s the key to my heart”.
“What a sentimental fool”.
“Wear it today and see how much of a sentimental fool I am” he said.
They went to the Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Flower. Rochelle was very eager to climb to the top of the dome and look out across Florence.
“Did you know there are four hundred and sixty-three steps to the top?” she asked as they stood outside, in the square of the Piazza del Duomo.
No answer.
She turned to Xavier. He was looking across the Piazza, scrutinising their surroundings.
“Xavier!” she called. He looked down at her, startled.
“What’s the matter?”
“You’re not listening”.
“Sorry” he said.
“If this is boring you, you can go back to the hotel; I don’t
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