Purpose Read online

  As comfortable as the bed looked, I knew the threat of nightmares—more replays of that video—wouldn’t allow me to sleep. So I sat down to write for the first time in days, pounding on the keyboard for hours, and eventually fell asleep at the desk. The nightmare came and I awoke with a start, his scream still echoing in my head. No! I won’t believe it! I longed for the memory-dream, or even the slideshow, terrified that even my subconscious had completely lost him, except for his agonizing cry. I wished I had gone straight to the beach house now. I needed to feel him, to remember him, to keep hold of that thread. Then I thought of his bag, with his few pieces of clothes still in there—his things I could touch and feel and hold close. I started to stand up.

  Daemoni! Evil! Run!

  “Do not move, Alexis.” The deep, gravelly voice of the vampire again. My heart jumped against my chest. “Settle yourself down. You don’t want to excite me.”

  I took some deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, but not because the detestable voice told me to. I needed to be able to focus and figure this one out. Because I was pretty sure I was awake, sitting at the desk, thinking about my husband. But maybe not. Maybe one nightmare had slipped into another.

  “Good girl. Nice and slow.”

  Yeah, whatever. I found it difficult to control my heart and my breathing because now I just wanted to scream and wake myself up. But I couldn’t bring myself to do either.

  “You did not listen to me, Alexis. You are still writing.”

  I swallowed, not answering. Real fear crept in, poking black fingers into the edge of my mind.

  The vampire stood only five feet away, his red, glowing eyes glaring fiercely at me. His arms were crossed against his chest, his marble-white skin contrasting starkly with the black silk shirt, tucked into tailored, black slacks. This was the first time he’d appeared in the light and he looked very similar to the descriptions in my books. Except…not exactly. His lips were wrong. I had always pictured my worst villain with full, dark-red lips, as if permanently stained with blood. This creature had white, hard lips that looked chiseled into a stone face. And he appeared much thinner, lankier, even weaker-looking than the image in my head. Finally, he wasn’t exactly good looking. Most authors of vampire lore, including myself, always described the extreme attractiveness of the vampire’s face as part of their lure. This creature could possibly be appealing, if he weren’t so downright frightening.

  “I am not here to attract you as my prey,” he said, as if reading my mind. His lips pulled back from his razor-sharp teeth and fangs. “You apparently are not taking me seriously enough, so my goal is to scare you. Am I doing a good job?”

  Yes, very much so. I stared at him wide-eyed, frozen in place. The Daemoni alarms still rang in my head.

  “Are y-you D-Daemoni?” I finally managed to ask.

  He smiled—it looked stunning and wretched at the same time. “Ah, so you are not so stupid after all. If I answer yes, will you take me more seriously?”

  I ignored his question, needing an answer to my own. Even if this was just a dream. “Do you have my husband? Is he still alive? Do you know where he is?”

  He glowered at me, the red eyes burning brightly, and then hissed. “You have no husband! Your baby’s father left you!”

  I cringed at the words although they weren’t new. He’d given the public’s story. Anyone could have said that.

  “You’re not real. You’re just a dream,” I muttered.

  “Stupid, STUPID WOMAN!” he growled, suddenly right in front of me, leaning over me. His eyes changed with the burst of anger, to the deepest, darkest black of death. Just the edges of the iris still glowed red.

  I could see my horrified expression in those deep-black eyes. This nightmare felt even more real than my memory-dreams. I could hear his ragged breathing, feel it on my face, smell the unexpectedly pleasant, sweet scent: strawberries covered in sugar and cream. Is this really a dream? My heart raced even faster. I thought my ribs would break from the pressure and my heart would just fly out, right into his hands.

  “Stop it!” he hissed, stiffening, and with a blur of movement too fast to even see, he stood on the other side of the room. “Down to business, Alexis. You are almost done with your book, and I need to stop you from finishing. You have exposed enough of our truths.”

  How would he know…? “Y-y-you have to be a dream. Only a few people know how this last book is going and that it’s almost done.”

  “Think about it, foolish one. There are some of us who can fool humans, immerse ourselves into their world. You have met a few. So even you can see we could have someone working at a certain publishing company?”

  I stared at him, shaking my head, trying to make it all go away. This was nonsense, Swirly screwing even with my dreams now. Wake up!

  “This is my last warning, Alexis. Our last warning. Not one more word. Do you understand?”

  I shook my head slightly. I didn’t really mean to contradict him. The movement was more about denying this whole…situation.

  “You’re not real,” I whispered. Again, not to challenge him. I was trying to convince myself. With barely a sound, I added, “Go away.”

  Of course, he didn’t obey. Instead, he let out a dreadful, harsh bark, a humorless laugh.

  “Go away? Yes, you would want that. I would, too, you know. I would much rather be spending my time on something I could have. But, for now, anyway, I can only play. You must know there are many ways my friends and I can torture you…ways to hurt you without ever providing the relief of death. You are, after all, telling the entire human race about us.”

  “But I’m off limits,” I blurted nonsensically, my dream-self confusing vampires with the real monsters of my life. Daemoni were prohibited from killing Amadis royalty unless Provoked, as in official Provocation.

  “Hmm. And you are supposed to be so intelligent.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at me in silence for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low and his words came slowly and deliberately, as if I were too stupid to understand basic concepts. “It is simple, Alexis. Exposing us makes anything justifiable. One more page, one more paragraph, one more word in that damn book of yours and play time will be over. Do you understand now?”

  I couldn’t answer. Again, I wanted to scream to wake myself up. But this nightmare had become one of those where you can’t move, speak or even breathe. I wondered if a lack of air would finally force my body awake.

  “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” He stood right in front of me again, the cold breath raging against my face, blowing my hair back. I still couldn’t move, not even for a breath. His voice lowered with the next question, nearly a whisper, but more frightening to me than anything else. “You really do not want us coming after your family, now do you, Alexis?”

  Then he stiffened and his head twitched. His narrow nostrils flared. He turned his head to his left, his eyes shifting over his shoulder toward the door. He let out a soft growl from deep in his chest.

  And then he was gone.

  I didn’t know how long I sat there, how much time had passed since I’d taken a breath. It felt like hours. I didn’t know where he disappeared to and I didn’t know if he would come back. I still hadn’t woken up, so the nightmare wasn’t over.

  But I’d surely wake up and not let myself suffocate. Right? WAKE UP!

  I decided to take a short, shallow breath, trying not to move too much, in case even the slightest movement brought him back. The brief flow of air felt like new life to my burning lungs. I couldn’t help but take another, longer draw. It was ragged, but satisfying. I focused on counting my breaths, trying to keep them slow and steady.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  I nearly fell out of my chair. My breath caught again and my heart returned to its flurried pace. Someone was at the door. Is it real or part of the dream? It was one of those sounds where you’re just not sure. If it was real, it didn’t wake me up.
My subconscious incorporated the noise.

  The vampire had sensed something. He knew someone was coming. Was it my knight-in-shining-armor? If my hero banged on the door, there was only one person I’d want it to be. I was glad I hadn’t woken up yet.

  The door flew open and hit the wall with another bang.

  “Alexis!” Such a beautiful voice. “Alexis! Are you all right?”

  Chapter 5

  As the voice came into the room, I realized it wasn’t the one I wanted to hear. It sounded familiar. Nice. But it didn’t belong to who I wanted.

  Is this some kind of cruel joke? Is my subconscious trying to replace him? Tears welled in my eyes. I’m not ready to replace him. This is my dream. Why can’t it be the way I want it?

  Instead, Owen’s voice rang into the room. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head, biting my lower lip to keep it from trembling. I couldn’t feel the pain from the bite, though. I wished I could—it would wake me up.

  I sensed Owen kneel down in front of me, trying to get a good look at my face. I squeezed my eyes tightly. Stupid dream. Why can’t I just wake up?

  “Alexis, are you okay?” he asked again. “I sensed Daemoni.”

  “I-I’m fine,” I finally answered, my voice tiny.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “It was just…” Oh, what does it matter? This stupid dream wasn’t going anywhere now because the wrong hero came. “It was nothing.”

  “Well, if you’re okay in here, I’ll go check everything out.” I felt him move away, heard his steps as he crossed the room.

  Is he really coming back? Can he just turn into the one I really want? That happens in dreams. People change into other people. Please? I didn’t know who I begged. I guessed my deranged subconscious, which liked to torture me and knew exactly how to do it.

  Bizarrely, like a dream within a dream, I heard my mother’s voice from many years ago, as we drove from some city to another. She’d just broken up with yet another man. “Don’t ever let them know your buttons. If they know your buttons, they’ll push them every time.”

  My subconscious seemed to know exactly which buttons to push. Of course, it’s not like I could hide my buttons from myself. I just had to deal with the torture.

  “Everything looks fine,” Owen said, returning to me. Yep, still had to deal with it. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”

  I nodded and said quietly, “I’m so tired. I just want real sleep.”

  I lay my head on the desk. Would I simply continue sleeping here? Couldn’t I wake up long enough to get to the bed? Or was I already in bed? I tried to stand up. I nearly fell back down, my legs wobbly and weak.

  “Whoa,” Owen said, catching me.

  I refused to look at him as he picked me up. His arms were hard and strong. I kept my eyes closed and tried to pretend he was the one I wanted. It’s just a dream anyway, so it should be easy, right? The illusion came easier than I’d expected. A slight electrical current prickled where his arms touched my shoulders and the backs of my knees. As he carried me into the bedroom, I could even imagine the scent of mangos and papayas, lime and sage and a hint of man. I wanted to bury my face into his chest. But I worried my subconscious would turn everything around and I’d end up dreaming I fell into bed with… Nope. Not going there.

  “I’ll stay here for a while, make sure you’re okay,” Owen said. He leaned over and I felt the soft bed under me.

  “No, you don’t—”

  “It wasn’t a question. I’ll keep watch. You just get some rest.” I felt his lips press briefly against the top of my head. I kept my eyes tightly shut, afraid my subconscious might see that button—the bright one that flashed between “Possibility” and “Nearly as Good.” But I felt the movement as he stood back up and then heard his soft steps on the thick carpet as he headed toward the door. Part of me didn’t want him to leave. But I was afraid of what might happen…of the possibilities. Not replacing him!

  Then the memory-dream finally returned, my real hero as the star, feeling so close to me.

  I lay in bed at 5:15 the next morning, holding onto those memories, onto Tristan’s face. The image had finally been clear enough for me to see him. And now that I was awake, back in my own miserable world, I had to face reality that he wasn’t with me.

  As soon as the sky lightened enough to run, I dashed out the door, grateful I’d decided to pack my new running gear. I ran along the unfamiliar streets, heading south, where I knew I would eventually hit water. When I did, I paused to gaze over it. The only sounds filling the air were the waves hitting against the concrete seawall below and seagulls cawing at each other overhead. The scene might have been peaceful if my body wasn’t screaming to move. As I turned to head back down the street, someone caught my eye.

  He was still too far away and too hidden in shadows to see his face. Somehow, though, I knew he was the stranger. The same stranger who’d been in my yard and at the park all the way back in Atlanta. And I knew now he was a hallucination. I’d been imagining him all along. He took several steps toward me this time. The gait was painfully familiar. He’s not real. Not real! Panicked by the realization, I ran the other way, as fast and as hard as I could, not paying attention to where.

  I wanted to get away from that delusion because it meant I really had lost my mind. I’d been trying so hard to see him, my imagination created false images, like someone lost in the desert searching for water for days and stumbling toward an oasis that’s really just a mirage. I slowed, tears blurring my vision.

  And I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw another runner following my path. He gained on me quickly. I sped up, but he ran much faster.

  Daemoni! Evil! Run! Go! Faster!

  Shit! Shit, shit, shit! He wasn’t following me…he chased me. I cranked my legs as fast as they could go, digging into the ground and springing forward. A beastlike growl rumbled behind me, way too close. My heart pounded and my breathing came hard, the first time I’d had any difficulty running. But exertion didn’t tax my energy. This was all-out fear. This is real. Just a few more seconds….

  At least I’ll be with my love.

  I impulsively stopped at the thought and waited. Waited to be caught and captured and possibly killed.

  Just take me!

  But the footsteps fell silent. I whirled around. The runner was gone. No trace he’d even been there.

  I stared down the street in bewilderment and turned in circles. No sign of anyone. Another delusion? I swore he was real…but maybe not. And if not, then I really was falling over the edge, into complete madness. In fact, that was the only explanation because I’d just been willing to give myself up, leaving my son as an orphan. How could I? An evil snicker sounded in the back of my head.

  I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my heart and clear my head at the same time. And an invisible, yet crushing weight fell on top of me.

  Mangos and papayas, lime and sage.

  “What are you doing here?! Get to a safe place!”

  My heart and my breathing both stopped. That scent…that voice. That lovely, smooth, silky voice. Tristan’s voice. And not twisted in pain, screaming my name. I’d never allowed myself to hear his voice in my mind, knowing it would be too painful. I couldn’t control scents—they wafted in on their own from innocent sources. But his voice…I would purposely have to recall it. My subconscious did it for me in my dreams—just to hear his last five words I clung to so desperately. But I wouldn’t allow my conscious mind to do it. I could hardly believe it still could.

  The smell and the sound overwhelmed my sharp senses and crushed my fragile soul. I broke down in the middle of the street, crying, turning round and round to try to find a source. The street was residential, with big houses, old trees and fences surrounding the yards. Nobody around. Holy hell, I’m going out of my freakin’ mind!

  As I continued turning in slow circles, something caught my eye. It was so obvious. A mango tree stood not too far
away, baby fruit hanging from its branches over the fence it stood behind. I took a deep, ragged breath and exhaled slowly. At least there’s a partial explanation.

  Calming myself with that thought, I began walking down the street slowly, trying to get my bearings so I could head back to the hotel. I focused on the street sign thirty yards away and almost didn’t notice the runner coming from the cross-street. My heart stuttered when I saw him, thinking he was the Daemoni runner again. And then I realized who he was.

  He turned down the street I walked on, running away from me. He wore black running pants and a black t-shirt and his brown hair hung down past his shoulders in a ponytail. It’s not who I want. Why would I see him so different than my memory? But I couldn’t help it. Even knowing he wasn’t real, knowing he wasn’t my love, I impulsively chased after him, running as hard as I could. Though I’d gained some speed over the last couple days, I couldn’t catch up to him.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “Please! Wait!”

  He disappeared down the street. I kept running, tears flowing, not able to see where I ran. So it was easy to get knocked off my feet. Someone grabbed me from behind.

  “Are you crazy?” Owen seethed, his mouth close to my ear.

  “Ugh!” I moaned. He held me tightly and I let loose on him. “Yes, I am! Actually, I’m beyond crazy. I’ve totally lost my fucking mind, Owen! I’m a basket case. Call the white coats. Tell them to bring the straightjacket and lock me up in a padded cell. That’s where I belong!”

  He kept his arms around me as I threw my temper-tantrum. When I calmed down, he set me back on my feet and stepped around so he could look at me. “Are you done?”