It didn't make sense.
Rubbing her brow, she picked up her Medieval Lit book and did her best to struggle through the Old English version of Beowulf.
Dr. Mitchell loved embarrassing graduate students who hadn't prepared for his class, so Cassandra wasn't about to show up tomorrow without having read the assignment.
No matter how boring it might prove.
Grendrel, chomp, chomp,
Grendrel, chomp, chomp,
See the Vikings in their boats,
Someone hand me the Cliff's Notes...
Not even her little singsong ditty could revive her interest.
Yet as she read the Old English words, she kept imagining a tall, dark-haired warrior with black eyes and full, warm lips.
A man of incredible speed and agility.
Closing her eyes, she saw him standing out in the cold, wearing a long black leather coat and a look on his face that said...
Decadence.
She tried to make the image clearer, but it evaporated and left her aching for want of him.
"What in the world is wrong with me?"
She widened her eyes and forced herself to read.
Wulf locked his bedroom door and went to bed early- just after four. Chris had been asleep for hours. There was nothing on TV, and he was bored with playing online computer games against the other Dark-Hunters.
He'd already taken out the "pressing" Daimon menace tonight. He sighed at the thought. During the winter months, they tended to take a hiatus south, since Daimons weren't real big on the whole cold thing. They hated to have to "unwrap" their food and found it extremely cumbersome to attack humans wrapped in layers of coats and sweaters. Things would pick up in the spring, after the thaw, but in the meantime, the nights were long and the battles few and far between.
Maybe if he got a good day's sleep, he might feel better tomorrow evening.
It was worth a try.
But as soon as Wulf fell asleep, his dreams started drifting. He saw the club again and felt the lips of the unknown woman against his.
Felt her hands on him as she clutched him...
What would it be like to be remembered by a lover again?
Just once?
A strange, swirling mist engulfed him and the next thing he knew, he was in an unfamiliar bed.
Wulf grimaced at the size of it-It was only a full-sized bed so he had to bend his legs to keep his feet from dangling over the edge of it.
Frowning, he looked around the dark room. The white walls were stark and covered with art posters. Something about it had an institutional quality to it.
There was a desk built into the wall by the window, a boxlike dresser with a TV and stereo, and a lava lamp burning in the corner, casting strange shadows over the walls.
It was then he realized he wasn't alone in the bed.
Someone was lying next to him.