Book 1 of The Courts of Daemonium.
Alexander 'Xander' Duran, the world's first Lamia, has been in charge of the Courts of Daemonium for decades. After being turned into a shadow-wielding, blood-thirsty Daemon in 1649 by Lilith, his only purpose in h...
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Adriana stretched against the soft sheets, smiling at the smell of freshly cut grass wafting in through an open window, the breeze carrying its wonderful scent. She could hear the birds singing outside along with the sound of soft ripples of calm water, and the sunlight warmed her bare arms. She savoured the relaxing feeling for a few more moments, not wanting to open her eyes just yet and face the day.
As she rolled onto her side she noticed the pillow she had clung to in the night had such a familiar smell, one that calmed and yet set her body ablaze all at once. She inhaled the musky scent, it reminded her of long walks in the forest and nights spent cuddling under the stars. It was the smell of Xander's skin, his hair, his breath.
She had tried for so long to remove him from her memory, but his unmistakable scent called to her. She remembered the way Xander used to hold her in his arms, the way he kissed her, all the ways he made love to her. And then she remembered the way he broke her bones, the way he bit into her skin, the way he killed her.
Adriana's eyes flew open as she woke up fully, staring at the pillow in her hands. This wasn't her bed, this wasn't her room.
"I used to love watching you dream," a deep voice softly spoke.
She slowly turned her head to see Xander sitting in a large wicker chair in the corner of the room, his hands clasped in front of him as he rested his arms on his knees. He stared intently at her, his eyes swimming with emotions while his face remained tense. The only sign that he was nervous was his right leg shaking slightly.
"I always loved watching whatever passed through your mind as you slept," he continued. "I'd sometimes join you in your thoughts, so I could experience the dreams with you. And now I plague your nightmares."
Adriana sat up in the bed, pulling the covers over herself. She was still in the same clothes as she had been when she and Cass had gone to the train station, minus the jacket and boots. But she hated that her arms were exposed, especially to him.
She watched him warily, noticing his dishevelled appearance. His dark brown hair that was almost black was a mess, as though he'd been running his hands through and tugging on it like she knew he did when he was stressed. His dark shirt was still tucked into his black trousers, but the sleeves had been rolled up uncaringly and the top buttons were undone. His stubble was longer than usual, his complexion seemed paler, and his eyes were sunken.
He looked tired, as if he had been awake for hours, maybe days. She realised she had no idea how long she had been asleep for, how long she had been gone for, or if Cass was okay.
"You've been out for a couple of days," he answered her racing thoughts. "Cassandra is with my brothers at the Court headquarters in London, she's safe.
"Get out of my head," she quietly said through gritted teeth as she threw up the barriers to her mind, cursing herself for letting them down around him.
