If he meets her, she will die. Twenty year old sorcerer and college student Scott Tabors knew he’d found his heart mate the moment he saw seventeen year old Olivia Whitehead outside of a coffee shop. He longs for her, he wants her, and he knows she will be his. But due to a curse on his family, he can’t meet her. Not yet. So for now, he visits her in her dreams, where he can tell her everything but his name.
Olivia Whitehead and her best friend Juniper are enjoying their junior year and are as close as sisters. But Olivia can’t tell anyone about the strange changes she’s experiencing, beginning with steamy dreams featuring a mysterious dark haired young man. But what will happen when the school heartthrob starts showing interest? Will she wait around for her dream man, or will she move on?
Then, when Olivia’s life is put in danger by a new threat, Scott must find a way to save her – without condemning her to an early death.
My nails dug deep into the flesh on his back, and my lips found his soft, yet rough neck as my mouth filled with the salty taste of him. He growled and fisted my hair in his hands as he pulled my face to his mouth. I gently bit and kissed those magnificent lips, the tender skin plush under my teeth. A low rumble escaped his throat, echoing through my mind, as he pulled me closer. Soft lips kissed me harder and strong arms lifted me off the floor. My legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed me against the wall.
My gosh, he was a good kisser!
Gazing into those deep brown eyes, I lost myself in his soul. He was truly a beautiful boy, one I would never see myself being with in the waking world. I enjoyed our dreams together, as often as they were, and cherished each kiss, each touch, each look. He stirred a part of me I never knew existed, arousing me to want and need more out of my life.
Running my hands through his hair, I reached for him and pulled his lips back to mine.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! I jumped out of the bed, catching my foot on the edge of the large yellow shag rug on my way to the dresser holding the alarm clock I hated so. Slamming the off button, I caught sight of my appearance in the mirror just long enough to wince and turn away quickly. My hair was wild, sticking out all over the place in tangled knots, while my tired face resembled a ghost or some other horrific supernatural being. Grabbing my brush, I hurried to the bed, not able to consider how crazy I looked in my just-waking state. The fierceness of my night was reflected in my hair, apparently.
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
|
Spanish
|
Already translated.
Translated by Lissethe Herrera
|
