I was covered in a cold sweat and awoke when I heard someone screaming. As I sat up in the bed, I realized the sound was coming from me. My dream was a terror—Menelaus stood amid the corpses of my sisters, their heads severed, and their souls sent to Hades. He’d made me watch, trapped and bound for him to torture as he pleased. Those eyes, unfathomable and dark, had promised retribution for me daring to run from him again.

Before I had a chance to rise from the bed, Paris burst through the door. He glared around, looking for intruders. When he found no one, he sat next to me. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” He felt along my body, gauging for any harm.

“N-no.” I drew the sheet up. I wore a lace teddy, something Daphne had picked out as pajamas, though I felt it was missing a good bit of fabric. “It was just a dream.”

Paris relaxed only slightly, still searching my face.

“It was Menelaus. He had me again. Had m-my sisters.” My voice trembled, the terror of the dream still lingering in my mind. Menelaus’s soulless eyes still seemed to glow at me in the dark. This sort of fear was new. Nothing had ever shaken me like this, and it was the odd déjà vu that made it all the more terrifying.

Paris reached up and stroked my hair. “Never again.”

“And my sisters? Are they safe?” The image of my strong warriors lying in a pile of death cut me so deeply that tears sprang to my eyes.

“He has no reason to invite Artemis’s wrath now that you are out of his reach. He does not hunt them, does not want them. Just you.”

His words, though they should have chilled me, put me at ease. I could not bear it if my actions resulted in my sisters’ destruction.

“And are you certain he can’t find me here, even with the mark?”

“The portal in Pyli is closed. The next nearest portal is in the Bloodkeep, over five-hundred miles away, and he would never dare try to cross there. The vampires and the demons are still at war.” His hand was in my hair, soothing me. He raised the other to catch a tear that rolled down my cheek.

I shook myself inwardly. I was a warrior maiden, chief of Artemis’s soldiers, not some sniveling girl in thrall to a vampire. Besides, it was only a dream. Still, I couldn’t escape the feeling of dread. The image of my sisters murdered and lying in a heap was seared into my thoughts. It stoked my hatred of the demon who thought he could possess me. I would end him. My mind began whirring, trying to think of ways to get to him without him knowing I was near. How many troops did he command? Where were they stationed? What sort of weaponry would they use? What was the quickest way through the Desert of Thorns and into the demon palace Daphne had spoken of?

“Hey, hey, Elena, look at me.” Paris lightly tipped my chin up. “Rest now. Your sisters are safe. You are safe.”

Slowly, the concern in Paris’s eyes made me relax, let go of the fear and the need to strike back at the demon who haunted my dreams. My thoughts eased, no longer coming in a torrent. I took a deep breath and let it out, calming my heartbeat.

I couldn’t simply fall back asleep, not now. I wasn’t used to sleeping alone, having always bedded down with my sisters. This room, with the huge bed and glass walls, was overwhelming after the terror of the dream. I felt weak and foolish to ask but knew I would not get a moment’s rest unless… “Would you, um, would you stay with me?”

Paris stilled. He looked at me with that same heat that made me melt for him earlier. This was a mistake.

“No, that’s a bad idea. I’m—”

“Of course.” He hesitated only for a second before pulling back the covers, getting in, and propping himself on his elbow next to me. His bare chest was like a golden wall, blocking my view of the door behind him. I caught his scent, masculine and woodsy. Calming. Familiar.

“Sleep now. Nothing will harm you, in dreams or otherwise, while I’m here.”

He sounded so certain, so intent on protecting me. Just the resolve in his manner was a balm on my troubled spirit. I relaxed back into the bed, staring at the flickering, swirling trail of stars overhead. Paris sank down next to me and rested his palms on his chest. A faint heat radiated from him as if he’d soaked up warmth from his bed and brought it to mine as a gift.

Instinct urged me to curl up against him, to seek his shelter, but I remained still. I couldn’t start down that path, because with the way he looked at me, I wasn’t sure I would be able to stop. He was only a whisper away, but as far as I was concerned, it was a vast distance, one I would not cross. At least, not again.

I steadied my breaths, longing for a sleep of oblivion. My eyelids became heavy. Paris’s presence seemed to wick away the horror of the dream. After settling my mind, my heart, I let myself go into the warm dark.

I awoke in a comfortable fog. My lashes fluttered open to find a dusting of golden curls and the hard chest of Paris beneath me. I was snugged into the crook of his arm. My hand lay on his muscled stomach and my knee was slung over him, resting atop his rock-hard shaft. My breasts were pressed to his side, and my hair fanned out around me. I was mortified and aroused all at once.

I didn’t move, wondering if I could somehow extricate myself without him noticing. I was afraid to look up at his face, lest the movement wake him. Biting my lip with indecision, I decided to first slowly remove my traitorous leg. Gently, I began lifting my knee, but a deep rumble from Paris’s chest stopped me.

“Don’t.” He pulled me even closer so that I was almost completely on top of him.

Heat shot through me, hardening my nipples and wetting my core. My body acted of its own accord, as if it had been longing for this, needing Paris’s touch so desperately. I remembered all Paris told me of our supposed previous life together. I wanted to doubt it, to deny it ever existed. But the way my instincts sought him, the way the very heart of me wanted to feel him inside me…the doubt was shredding away. Could what my instincts had been telling me all along be true? Were we fated?

I hitched in a breath as he pulled me directly on top of him, my legs straddling him. He let out a hiss as my sex rested on his shaft, only the thin fabric of my lace and his boxers separating them.

He drew my face up to his. Those eyes watched me so intently. “I’ve dreamed of this, of you, for so many years.” His voice broke with emotion and longing, pain flashing across his eyes like a cloud across the sun.

Before I even knew what I’d done, I brushed his lips with mine. A gentle nudge to bring him back to the present. To take away the pain. But it was so much more than that. It was a bridge, one linking us across an ocean of time, though I couldn’t even begin to tell the depths of that vast sea. When he took my mouth with more passion than I had ever experienced, I knew I was in trouble.