"It's okay."
"You sure?'
"Yeah."
Kat nodded. "Fine then, I'll just head back to my room and finish my book. You want me to bring you something to munch on or drink?"
Cassandra smiled at the offer. "A soda would be great."
Kat vanished only to return a few minutes later with a Sprite. Cassandra thanked her, then went back to work while Kat left her alone.
Cassandra sipped her drink leisurely as she surfed. About an hour later, she was so tired, she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.
Yawning, she checked the time. It was barely five-thirty. Even so, her eyelids were so heavy that she couldn't stay awake no matter how hard she tried.
She shut down her computer, then headed for bed to take a short nap.
She fell asleep the instant her head touched the pillow. Normally, Cassandra didn't dream much whenever she took an afternoon nap.
Today was completely different.
Today her dreams started almost as soon as she closed her eyes.
How strange...
But the oddest part of all was that her fantasy realm bore no resemblance to anything she'd ever dreamt before. Instead of her normal dreams of glamour or horror, this one was peaceful. Gentle. And it filled her with warm security.
She was dressed in a soft dark green gown like some medieval lady. Frowning, she ran her hand over the material, which was softer than chamois.
Alone inside a stone cottage where a warm fire blazed in a large hearth, she stood off to the side of an old wooden table. The winds howled outside a window that was covered by a wooden shutter that clattered noisily as it tried to keep the winter winds out.
She heard someone at the door behind her.
Cassandra turned around just in time to see Wulf shoulder it open. Her heart stopped as she caught sight of him dressed in a chain-mail vest of sorts. His massive arms were bare with his torso and mail covered by a leather vest that had Nordic designs burned into it. The designs matched the tattoo on his right shoulder and biceps.
His conical helm covered his head and had more mail attached to it that covered his face, virtually obscuring it. But for those intense, heated eyes, she would never have known it was Wulf under there. He held a small battle-axe in one hand, resting it over his shoulder. He looked primitive and wild. The kind of man who had once owned the world. One who was afraid of nothing.
His dark gaze swept the room, then stopped on her. She watched a slow, seductive smile break across the lower half of his face, showing off his fangs.
"Cassandra, my love," he greeted, his voice warm and enchanting. "What are you doing here?"
"I have no idea," she answered honestly. "I'm not even sure where here is."
He laughed at that, a deep, rumbling sound, then shut the door and bolted it. "You're in my home, villkat. At least what was once my home long ago."
She looked about the spartan place, which was furnished with a table, chairs, and one very large fur-covered bed. "Strange, I would have thought Wulf Tryggvason had a better place than this to call his own."
He set the axe down on the table, then removed his helm and placed it over the axe.
Cassandra was floored by the masculine beauty of the man before her. He oozed a raw, sexual appeal that no one could ever rival.
"Compared to the small farm where I grew up, this is a mansion, my lady."
"Really?"
He nodded as he pulled her up against him. His eyes scorched her and filled her with a deep, aching need. She knew exactly what he wanted, and though she barely knew him at all, she was more than willing to give it to him.
"My father was once a warring raider who took a vow of poverty years before I was born," Wulf said huskily.