SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (226 page)

“Yes, actually.”

“Okay, and what were you and the old man doing?”

Suzanne pinched the top of her nose, then pressed on the inner corners of her eyes. Her head had started to throb a little from one too many margaritas from the night before. The celebration had been a total act of coercion. She’d tried her best to argue the festivities were premature, but her esteemed fellow faculty had successfully ignored her. She’d finally given in to the happy hour soiree, figuring her colleagues needed an excuse for a party, and her enviable job offer certainly fit the bill. After a couple of drinks, she managed to at least temporarily bury her dislike of public jubilation, especially one that made her the center of attention.

They had toasted her good fortune and praised her eminent worth through countless pitchers of margaritas, until the manager of the Cantina Diego finally shooed them all home. And during the evening, each had confessed their professional jealousy but also how they believed no one deserved the opportunity more than she did.

When they’d challenged her hesitation about immediately accepting the job, they’d shaken their heads, bewildered. Each one of them claimed they’d do almost anything for the chance to start an Ethnobotany department anywhere—but especially at the small private college in northern California recruiting her. None would ever understand that part of her would give almost anything not to have to move a thousand miles away, even if it was for the perfect job, the job she’d dreamed of all her life.

“Suz?”

“I’m here. Let me think—I don’t remember the old man talking to me...just him showing me the paintings. Then—oh, and he kept touching my hair. Does any of this make sense?

“Keep talking. I’m taking notes.”

“Then we go back through the tunnel and out the other side. I remember seeing a full moon, and a rabbit drinking from a pond. And then the old guy stops and pushes me forward...and the young guy’s standing by the water. I’m older now...pretty much the age I am right now, I think. And the young guy seems about the same age as me, maybe a little older.”

Suzanne looked at the pad of paper. Below the pictograph symbols she’d drawn a simple landscape; a pond surrounded by fan palms, and a full moon in a shaded sky.

It looked like something a child would draw. A feeling of déjà vu brought chills to her skin, and she had the distinct feeling she
had
drawn it as a child.

“Suz?”

“Sorry—got side-tracked for a minute. So, he’s standing there. I still can’t see his face—I can’t really see him clearly at all...I just have sort of a sense of him. Tall, good build...”

“But, the
same
guy from your other dreams, right?”

“Yes, I’m sure of that part. I just wish I remembered more about what he looked like. Every time I’ve been to the Barona reservation I feel like there’s a chance I might run into him, you know?”

“Anything else?”

“Well, I remember something flying just above our heads, and when I turn to look, it’s an owl. When I turn back, both the young guy and the old man are gone. And then I woke up and called you.”

“Okay, I’ve got my laptop right here—give me a minute to pull up a Web site I want to check.”

As Suzanne listened to the clicking sound of her friend’s fingers on keys, she realized it was the most she’d ever remembered about a dream fully awake. Through the years she’d found if she kept perfectly still after she woke, it was like she was still there—with everything crystal clear, her senses still filled with every sight, sound, and smell. But the minute she moved or opened her eyes, her precious dream world rapidly faded.

“Almost there,” Robin said.

Cradling the phone against her shoulder, Suzanne pinned the drawing to the bulletin board, just above the offer letter from the University of Spring Lake. She ran her fingertips over the gold-embossed image at the top of the letterhead—several peak-roofed buildings surrounded by tall pine trees. A forest surrounded the elite private college, and it was about as far from San Diego as she could get and still be in the state of California.

She should take the job. It offered her both the challenge and the opportunity of a lifetime, and it was a logical next step for her career. And her career
was
her life. As a student she had discovered the blessed sanctuary of university life, and she’d stayed in the environment through graduate school, then landed a teaching job there.

Her life was completely on track.

And she loved it there. Her existence within the education milieu was logical, dependable, and predictable. And it perfectly suited her every need. She’d worked hard to have something tangible to hold onto that belonged only to her, and deep down, she knew exactly what she should do. And she’d have to give them an answer, and soon.

“Okay, Suz, I’m ready.”  I wanted to check on a site that also has Native American symbols so we could compare your dream symbols to them.”

“Okay, dream guru, tell me what you think.”

“The first pictograph—the sunburst—could be a supernatural sign, like something a shaman might paint. Handprints are also considered magical—symbols of strength, and for keeping evil spirits away.”

“And the stick people?”

“It’s the colors that seem the most important. The one that’s the combination of colors indicates someone of high status—a chief or a healer, maybe. I think the red one with the white hair might be you. Red is a sacred color, usually female—and I think the white hair is important. In your dream you said the old man kept touching your hair, right?”

“Yeah.”  Suzanne tried to run her fingers through her long, wavy hair, a tangled mass of blonde curls because she hadn’t bothered to braid it before she fell into bed after the party.

“In dreams hair symbolizes physical and spiritual strength, and can also refer to knowledge and reasoning. I think in your case, it symbolizes you to him.”

Seemed logical. “And...”

“And the whole idea of you walking through a door
into
the cave is very interesting. Doors are passageways, sometimes from one plane to another, or from one state of consciousness to another...”

“Don’t go woowoo on me—”

“Hush,” Robin interrupted, “and so, when you go through the door into the cave—which I interpret as a place of refuge or sanctuary for you—when you go through, you are passing into this symbol of safety and maybe to a new life. Then the old man takes you outside to the pond, right?

“Correct.”

“The only symbolism I could find for the rabbit was personal lack of awareness. And the full moon is there to make you feel secure. The moon is also feminine energy...and sometimes means romance and passion. So tell me, girlfriend, has there been any romance between you two in other dreams?  Have you been holding out on me?”

Suzanne stared into space. She considered if she was ready to share the intimacy that had escalated in her dreams as she and the boy had grown older. No. Too private. Too intimate. “Another day, Robin.”

“Hmmm....okay.”

Suzanne listened to the sound of more keystrokes.

Robin continued. “Ah...the owl is considered the eagle of the night—change is on the way.”

“Well,
that
makes sense.” As usual, her friend’s interpretation seemed to always contain a grain of truth. Robin was the only one she’d ever confided in about her vivid dreams. For years she’d kept them hidden, dismissed any hidden meaning that might be in them and simply enjoyed them for what they seemed to be, her only real creative outlet...and her sanctuary. The first time she’d mentioned her recurring dreams, Robin had listened with serious concentration, but had used the word obsessed instead of enjoyed. It was kind of embarrassing, she’d confessed to her that day, to have a part of her prefer her dream world to her reality. But Robin had been fascinated and made her promise from that moment on to tell her details of her dreams when she remembered them.

WELCOME HOME, VAMPIRE

by Theresa Meyers

Table of Contents for WELCOME HOME, VAMPIRE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Dear Reader

About the Author: Theresa Meyers

Books by Theresa Meyers

In His Touch – Preview Chapter

Welcome Home, Vampire: Chapter One

Most guys came home from serving Afghanistan with a lot of shit on their plate. Cole Wagner came back with more than his fair share. He literally wasn’t the same man he’d been. Hell, he wasn’t even human any more.

The night air, fragrant with the scent of roses, hummed with the ebb and flow of crickets calling to attract a mate. It was all he could do to drag his feet along the cracked, concrete walkway to the small military bungalow ahead of him. The path was swept clean, the grass cut with a military precision. Flower pots bracketed the cement steps held bright red geraniums. All that was Kayla’s touch. Kayla.

What the hell was he going to tell Kayla?
Hi, good to see you again. Sorry your husband is dead. God, I love you.
The grief after Jack Pierce’s death two years—two lifetimes—ago had been more deadly than the IED that had taken his friend. Guilt and sorrow had eaten him alive, making him not give a shit if he lived or died.

All his life it had been him and Jack. When he’d been young, Jack’s family had taken him in whenever his mom was on a bender and gone for days at a time. The Pierce family had made him one of their own. They’d fed him, clothed him, given him a place to sleep at night and kept him in school. He and Jack were more like twins than best friends. They’d played the same sports, liked the same girls, done the same stupid pranks in school, graduated together and gone into the service as a team. Then, in an earth-shattering second, Cole had been alone and lost.

He knew that was precisely the reason he’d been selected for Vector Force. A flash of memory, the agony as they tested him, transformed him into a monster, stopped him in his tracks.

Flick.

His fangs extended, and the need for blood started up the saliva, thick and slick in the back of his mouth. Bone deep hunger gnawed at him.

For a moment he swayed. He should have taken a few blood bags with him from the base to staunch the need to feed, just in case, but he’d thought himself under control. The porch light flicked on. Intense in the night to his amped up vampire senses, it pierced the back of his brain and brought him back to the here and now. The unmistakable mold and must tinge of sorrow scented the air about the place, as did the baby-powder scent of loneliness. He shook his head—willed his fangs to retract in gum tissue just above his even, normal teeth.

The door opened and there stood the most perfect woman in the world – Kayla Montgomery. No. Not Montgomery any longer. Pierce. Mrs. Pierce.
Widow Pierce.

Her hair, a gold, sleep-snarled halo around her head, made her seem angelic while the curves and points of her naked breasts, perfectly outlined by the cling of the white tank top she wore, spoke of a body created for far more earthly pleasures. Almost every inch of her long, tan legs was bared by the pink, blue and white striped sleep shorts hugging her hips.

“Cole? Cole, is that you?” The screen door creaked open as she stepped out onto the top step. “It is you!” He couldn’t stop staring. Her lush, pale pink lips widened into a smile.

Inside his chest, his heart fractured. Any words he’d thought he could scrape together dried to dust on his tongue. Kayla. . .Oh, God. She’d been radiant in white the last time he’d seen her. Elegant. Untouchable. She’d stood in front of the altar on one side of Jack, and he’d stood on the opposite side of him as their best man.

She launched off the stoop, the screen door slapping shut behind her and ran straight at him. Her arms wrapped around his waist in a death lock and she laid her cheek against his chest. Delicate hints of citrus, flowers and warm woman drifted up from her, filling his lungs as he inhaled sharply at her touch. He breathed in again, as deeply as he could, letting the scent of her fill him to the brim. The ache that stole over him was born of heartsick wanting. Kayla had been his first girlfriend at sixteen. And despite years of finding some small comfort in the arms of other more than willing women, no one else could touch his heart. That still belonged to Kayla alone.

He gently wrapped his arms around her in return, being extra careful to keep the contact loose and relaxed. Even after two years in Vector Force, he still didn’t know the extent of all his new vampire powers. The last thing he wanted to do was break any of her delicate bones in a power hug.

“It’s been awhile.” The words cracked as he said them. The silky strands of her hair tickled his nose, as he breathed in the unique scent of her. Sweet and clean. Every night he’d dreamed of holding her, just like this, again. He woke in the morning hating himself for dreaming about his best friend’s wife. Even now he knew thinking about how the soft curves of her breasts, bare beneath the thin tank top pressed against his chest, was somehow wrong. She wasn’t his. He shouldn’t want her the way he did.