Apparently the answers to those questions rested within the antique trunk. With great trepidation, she stuck the skeleton key in the lock. It clicked loudly as the tumblers spun. She lifted the heavy lid and gazed down at the contents.
There were yellowing photos and official-looking papers on the top. Layer by layer, she dug through his mementos. Cora uncovered military commendations and medals from Vietnam and World War II. Immigration paperwork from Ellis Island in 1893 showed him as a Norwegian male aged thirty-four under the name of Stigandr Wyvern. There were photos and daguerreotypes of Stig throughout various eras. He looked so strange in fashions of the Edwardian and Victorian ages. Farther down, Cora uncovered painted portraits and pamphlets from the Regency era.
Cora stopped when she found bits and pieces from the sixteenth century. The more she dug, the more bewildered she grew. Her brain screamed that all of this was impossible. There was no way a person could live for six or seven centuries and yet the proof was there in black and white.
Surrounded by Stig’s history, Cora tried to reconcile all this evidence with the reality she’d lived in her entire life. It wasn’t possible for a human being to live for hundreds of years. Cora had always been a big fan of paranormal romances and urban fantasy novels. The heroines of those stories always seemed to deal with the discovery of their lover’s supernatural existence with such grace. But she felt like running out to her car and racing away from the house as fast as the car would go. She’d stepped into some bizarre reality where suddenly things that were fantastic and fictional were a possibility.
So what did that make Stig? Vampire? Werewolf? Some other kind of creature she’d never heard of in her entire life? And what about the dream last night? Was that Stig’s doing? Was he the shadowed man?
Cora rubbed her face in both hands. This was all so complicated. Had Hector known about Stig’s secret? Would he have told her? She didn’t know. The bond they’d forged at war had seemed unbreakable. Perhaps these kinds of secrets fell within the purview of that bond.
What did she do now? Cora took a good look at the trunk and its contents. Everything had changed between them. It wasn’t as if they could just pretend none of this had ever happened. She would never forget what she’d seen. Where did they go from here?
She sensed the ball was in her court. If she packed up her things and left right now, Cora felt certain Stig would understand.
But she didn’t want to leave.
The realization that she really didn’t care
Cora carefully returned the antique items to the trunk and locked it. She gripped the keychain tightly and left his room.
Out in the hall she wavered uncertainly. It was too early to sleep but she wasn’t sure if she’d feel comfortable watching television in the living room while Stig was locked up in a holding cell beneath her. But if they were going to make this work—and she had to believe Stig wouldn’t have told her about his immortality if he didn’t want her in his life—she needed to learn to deal with these “phases,” as he put it.
Her mind settled, Cora traipsed downstairs, got a drink of water, and found a cushy spot on the couch. She switched on the television and found an amusing reality show following a train-wreck celebrity as she navigated the dating waters. Although Cora tried to relax, it proved impossible. She kept listening for strange sounds and imagining all kinds of frightening scenarios.
Since Stig hadn’t fully explained what exactly these phases did to him, she imagined the very worst. Was this a Jekyll and Hyde kind of thing or something else entirely? She honestly didn’t know and that made it all the more difficult. Was the hell he endured down in that holding cell the price he paid for immortal life? Was it worth it?
Her mind swam. She couldn’t think straight. A headache started along the back of her head. She supposed her tight jaw didn’t help matters any. Maybe television wasn’t such a good idea tonight.
Cora switched off the flat screen and turned off all the lights downstairs. She trudged up to the guest room and changed into pajamas before heading across the hall to the bathroom for her nightly routine. Back in her room, she slipped into bed and hugged a pillow. She tried in vain to shut down her racing thoughts for the better part of an hour before exhaustion finally set in and dragged her into the depths of sleep.
Just as the night before, Cora experienced brilliantly vivid dreams. She swam in water so blue and so warm. She ran barefoot through the greenest, softest grass. She fell back onto a plush lavender-scented bed. The silken sheets were so smooth against her naked skin.
Warm hands grasped her ankles. Lips pressed kisses along her calves and traveled along the inner curve of her legs. She shivered as the mouth of her phantom lover inched closer to her sex. Hands grasped her inner thighs and shoved them wide. The tip of a pointed tongue probed her folds. She gasped at the delicious invasion.
Cora tried to reach down and touch her mystery lover’s head only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of silken bonds capturing her wrists and pinning them overhead. Excitement rippled along her spine. This was new and forbidden. The forced position of her arms thrust her breasts forward. Her nipples pulled tight and pebbled.
Warmth spread across her skin. Arousal coiled low and tight in her core. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the talented tongue flicking over her clitoris. The slow swirls sent tingling frissons through her belly. Her mystery lover sucked the swollen bud between his lips. Moaning, Cora arched her back and pulled against the silken bonds.
He released her clit and slid his tongue between her folds. It dipped into her opening and teased the sensitive skin there. One finger and then two followed his tongue. With the gentlest of thrusts, he worked Cora into a frenzy. His mouth settled over her clitoris again, that wonderful tongue giving her quite a lashing. Cora’s fingers curled into a tight fist as she pumped her hips and surrendered to the double stimulation of her nocturnal lover.
She hovered on the brink of explosion. Her limbs trembled. She inhaled in short gasps. The fingers thrusting in and out of her wet sheath moved faster. The tongue gliding over her inflamed clitoris did so with a little more pressure but the pace never wavered. Each stroke of the slippery tongue was just right.
Oh yes. Right there. Just a little more.
“Unnnhhhh!” Cora cried out as she shattered in climax. She undulated atop the plush bed, her movements jerky and restricted by the silk ties. Her phantom lover took her to the heights of orgasm again with that fabulous tongue and only let up when she begged for mercy. His tongue licked gently at her hot pussy as she panted for air and slowly returned to earth. Her mind fuzzy from the intense orgasms, Cora tried to touch her lover’s head and succeeded.
Her head shot off the pillow as she realized her arms were free. Just as quickly as the bonds had appeared, they’d vanished—and so had her mystery man.
Annoyed, Cora frowned and touched the still warm sheets. Any second now she would wake from the delicious dream.
“Come to me.”
Her heart stuttered at the unexpected man’s voice. It sounded like Stig but more raspy and oscillating, almost dreamlike. She clutched at her throat with a nervous hand and felt her thudding pulse beneath her fingertips. “Stig?”
“Come to me, Cora.”
She considered the request. Stig’s warning raced to the forefront of her mind. “But you said—”
“I need you.” There was no mistaking the pain and need in his voice. “Come, Cora. Please.”
And then he was gone.
Cora woke with a start and sucked in a shaky breath. She ran a hand through her hair and tried to reconcile her dream with reality. After Stig’s shocking revelations, she couldn’t immediately discount the possibility this was all real.
Stig needed her. Deep down inside, Cora knew it to be true. Ignoring the inner voice shrieking for caution, she slipped from the bed, left her room, and descended the stairs. Not bothering to turn on the lights, she wound her way through the living room and across the kitchen. Enough moonlight spilled through the windows to guide
