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“We’ll figure this out, Eden,” he says, lifting a hand to gently cup my cheek. “We’ll figure it out, together.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, and his mouth turns up into a gentle smile.
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s my privilege to be by your side, always. No matter how weird things get, I’ll be here, holding your hand and watching your back. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I breathe, leaning in to him.
“And if we are dealing with the ghosts of your parents, we’ll find a way to fully open the lines of communication. Even if we have to light candles and hold a séance or use a spirit board.”
That last bit makes me laugh, and Jesse releases my hand to curl his arm around me. I feel safe and protected. Powerful, like our love will see us through anything thrown our way.
Even being haunted by the ghosts of my dead parents.
41
WORTH THE REWARD
Ispent the rest of the night trying––and failing––to go back to sleep. If the dream I had really was a ghostly message from my dead parents, I want to know what they were trying to tell me.
I need to know.
But as the sun slowly brightens the edges of the curtains over the window, I give up and slide out of bed. Jesse left a while ago with a kiss and a promise to check in on me after he concluded some kingly business, so I’m alone. Shuffling into the bathroom, I take a shower and get dressed before making my way downstairs, where I find Steph in the dining room, eating pancakes and bacon with a serene smile on her lips.
“You’re up early,” I mumble as I slide into the chair next to her.
Her smile turns devilish. “I had an early-morning wake-up call from a sexy Viking.”
I smile in response, but she must see something in my expression, because her humor vanishes. Setting her fork beside her plate, she turns in her chair to face me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I had a dream last night.”
“Okay,” she says slowly, drawing out the word like a question.
“Vampires don’t dream,” I say.
She listens raptly while I give her the details, her blank face not even hinting at her thoughts. At the end, I tilt my head and shoot her a pained expression.
“Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No. Of course not,” she says without pause, giving me a look that tells me it was a stupid question. “And while I don’t really believe in ghosts, I don’t think it was anything as simple as a dream.”
“You don’t?”
She shakes her head. “It’s too specific. Too crisp in your mind. Dreams tend to fade after we wake, and even if you remembered most of the details, there would be holes in the scene. Wispy moments you can’t quite recall.”
“That’s true for humans,” I say, my mind spinning as I utter the words, “but maybe it’s different for vampires.”
“You just said vampires don’t dream,” she reminds me.
“But I’m a witch, too. There’s no one like me to set a precedent.”
“Do you really think it was a dream, or are you trying to rationalize it into something you’re more comfortable with?” she asks, arching a single brow.
“No, I don’t think it was a dream,” I say, breathing deep just so I can heave a sigh. “If anything, I’m playing devil’s advocate.”
“Then what is your gut telling you? That it really is the ghosts of your parents trying to reach out to you?”
