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Kaitlin stared at Lucien, who was stirring his coffee with his spoon. It was clear that he was reluctant about telling her about his dream.
“You don’t need to know about it,” he said.
“Yes, I do. You’ve been keeping this bottled up for some time. We are going to deal with this together. Now tell me about your dreams.”
Lucien was silent for a moment before he nodded, knowing it was unfair to keep it from her any longer. “It’s always the same dream—that is, until tonight,” he mumbled. “I find myself in a dark and misty place when suddenly the clouds disappear.”
“What happens after that?”
Lucien told her, giving her every detail from beginning to end, including the part about the bearded vampire. Once he was done, Kaitlin sadly shook her head. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this before?”
“I didn’t want to upset you about it.”
Kaitlin studied him. “When it comes to this, whatever involves you involves me. You know that.”
“That shouldn’t be the case where this is concerned.”
“That’s complete rubbish, and you know it.” Kaitlin hesitated. “At least we know now that Jane’s theory must be right; that fellow did mistake you for . . . for . . .”
“My evil twin?” Lucien finished for her. “You may go ahead and say it; I have no idea what else to call him. As far as I’m concerned, that describes him just perfectly.”
Kaitlin rested her hand on his for a moment, thinking about what to say next. “You told me that he was after you for vengeance, and that you destroyed a loved one. Who do you think he might be talking about?”
Lucien was silent for a long moment before he said, “I don’t know. I don’t even know who HE is.”
“When do you start work?”
“About 9. Why?”
“Perhaps we can look through some artifacts and such. At least, I can while you’re working. Once you’re on your break, we can discuss what I’ve discovered.”
Lucien slowly nodded, hoping she was right.
***
He was here with her, in the night, as he always was. Charlotte didn’t know how that was possible because Philippe told her that his kind couldn’t be invited.
In spite of her fear of him, she couldn’t deny her attraction to him: his greenish-blue eyes which had a strange, red tinge to them, his features were chiseled and rugged, even though his skin was pale. Even more, his body . . . it was so powerful and athletic-looking she almost found herself yearning to touch his chest.
Yet she knew there was something about him that wasn’t right. In spite of his magnetic appearance, her heart pounded with horror.
He began to say something to her, but no sound came from his lips. Then he moved closer to her as he opened his mouth to reveal . . .
Charlotte then awoke, gasping in shock before she calmed down, realizing she was no longer dreaming.
Good, she silently told herself. Good.
She lay back against the pillows, staring out the windows and frowned. How did they get opened? She was sure she locked them before going to bed earlier.
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