Crave - Teresa Mummert Page 0,21

my hands down his body.

“I want you,” he groaned.

“In your dreams,” I shot back with a giggle.

“This isn’t my dream, Eva. It’s yours.

Chapter seven

Preparation

I awoke and shot up into a sitting position as fear washed over me. I glanced around, catching the alarm clock that read 8:43 am. I was in my bed, alone. It was just a nightmare.

I shoved the covers down, my body, overheated from being under the heavy fabric. I was wearing a silk nightgown that I had bought several years ago and never worn. I slid my hand down the slippery material. “How?” I mumbled to myself. A sound from the kitchen startled me and I gasp. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I tiptoed to the doorway, holding my breath. It squeaked as I slowly pulled it open and was assaulted by the bright light that poured in. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

“We need to talk,” Grayson called from the kitchen. I flung the door open the rest of the way and peeked out. Grayson sat at my table eating a bowl of cereal as if it were just another ordinary day.

“H-hey,” I stammered. I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and a spoon out of the dishwasher. I sat in the seat across from him and poured a bowl for myself, glancing up to see his expression, but trying to avoid eye contact.

“Glad to see you’re alone this morning,” he said coldly as he glanced up and looked me in the eye. “You are alone, aren’t you?” His face read of disgust and I rolled my eyes.

“Grayson, you have no idea the night I had.” I started, but he quickly interrupted.

“Spare me the hangover sob story,” he replied.

I have had about enough. I slammed my spoon into my bowl and crossed my arms.

“Look, Grayson, we aren’t together. I’m getting really sick of these double standards.” I shoved away from the table and got up to put my bowl in the sink. I had lost my appetite. I rinsed it out as I heard his chair slide back and he stomped down the hall and walked out the door. I felt the tears stream down my cheeks and slammed the bowl, watching it crack into shards.

I was breaking down. I sunk to the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked soothingly. My neck throbbed. I summoned the strength to reach my fingers under the collar of my gown, trembling when I felt the slow healing puncture wounds. Flashes of last nights’ brutal attack from Elijah replayed in my mind. How could I not have known? How am I still alive? I was feeling sorry for myself again. I pushed myself up and headed to my bedroom. I shrugged off the nightgown and slid into an old pair of jeans and a tank, and threw my hair up into a messy bun. I grabbed the gun from on top of my dresser and slid it into the waist of my jeans. I suddenly remembered Elijah emptying the bullets. Rifling through my drawers I come up empty handed.

“Shit!” I cursed myself. He took all of them. I walked over to the window and ripped open the heavy curtains. The sun shot through the slits in the blinds. It was a beautiful sunny day. No vampires were out right now. I decided to make an impromptu trip to the gun supply shop out in York to stock up on ammo. Grabbing a cigarette from my pack, I lit it and slid them into my back pocket. I grabbed my purse and headed for my car.

Take Me To Church played as the engine turned over and roared to life. I retreated inside my imagination as I absentmindedly made my way through the curves of the hollow. I pictured the night I walked down the road and first made eye contact with Elijah. My heart involuntarily fluttered at the mere thought of his gaze. Most attacks occurred at random. What Elijah had done was anything but that. He had spent time with me, made me care about him. Why?

I shook myself from the daydream in time to see the car in front of me stopped in the middle of the road with its hazard lights flashing.

I slammed the breaks and they locked up, sliding me to a stop inches from his rear bumper. My heart raced. I shifted into park and put on my four-ways.

Making sure my gun was secure in the back