Free The Demoness of Waking Dreams by Stephanie Chong Page A

her.
    The woman had coglioni.
    * * *
     
    Luciana stared out the tall windows of the shabby little hotel room, into the darkness. It was so late that it was early, the revelry of the party finally died down now. Nothing could be heard but the quiet sound of the canal waters lapping against the rotting brick of this crumbling pensione.
    Failure.
    Somewhere out in the darkness in front of the Redentore Church, the devil’s ferryman waited, floating in his black funerary gondola, watching for her to arrive with the sacrifice she had promised.
    The sacrifice she had now failed to deliver.
    The tall, dangerous warrior of an angel who now lay beside her. Who looked more demon than angel. Who seemed to act out of pure animal instinct more than reason. Whoever had sent him had known exactly where to hit her, and how.
    Inside her, rage and exhaustion swirled. Not only from having aborted a failed hunt, but prior to that, from months of striving to attain revenge that she had not reached. This thug among angels made an unlikely nurse. His hands, so big yet so gentle on her back, were a contradiction unto themselves. The moment he touched her, the pain dissipated. She felt strangely at peace.
    The feeling was so odd to her.
    Peace.
    Is this what Julian Ascher felt with Serena? she wondered.
    For now, she was utterly and completely at his mercy. But it was only a matter of waiting. She would find a way to escape, even now when her strength was at its lowest.
    “I will think of some way to get out of this intolerable situation,” she snarled in the darkness. “I always do. And when I do, I will have my revenge on you all.”
    Sooner or later, the devil would come calling for the sacrifice she owed him.
    And when he did…? Oh, what a sacrifice it would be.
    * * *
     
    Better to stay up all night than to fall asleep for even an instant in this woman’s presence.
    Brandon had endured countless nights of sleeplessness. But tonight, after all that he had gone through, his physical body reeled from the effects of exhaustion. From the moment he lay down, even on the hard and uncomfortable floor, he fought sleep.
    Sleep was a tyrant. Sleep was his enemy.
    If he fell asleep, he risked falling back into the dream. Or worse yet, falling into another dream of her.
    Sometimes being too close to his humanity was a very bad thing.
    The urges of his body raged as he lay mere feet from her, silent and still.
    In the darkness, he could sense her seething, her anger and frustration almost tangible. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Could almost feel her plotting her escape.
    Tired of staring at the luminescent reflections from the water dancing on the ceiling, he closed his eyes for an instant. Only a second, to rest his tired eyelids.
    And lapsed into sleep.
    Only for an instant, then jolted awake again.
    When he opened his eyes, he saw the full moon through the French doors of the hotel room. How strange, he thought, since the moon had appeared as a mere sliver earlier in the evening.
    Was he dreaming? No.
    He was not in his nightly dreamspace. No smell of urine and garbage. No narrow alleyway. Just the same dingy hotel floor where he’d lain down a moment ago.
    He breathed a sigh of relief. Coached himself to inhale. Exhale.
    But when he turned his head to look at the demoness, she was no longer attached to the bed.
    Somehow, Luciana had freed herself from the bonds of the handcuffs. Had done so silently, in that single blink of unconsciousness. Now, she stood by the side of the bed, looking down at him, a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. Slowly, she knelt beside him. Levered one of her long, slim legs over his prone body to straddle his hips.
    He lay still, flat on the floor. Not daring to move. Not daring to even breathe.
    She took his hand, guided it to her breast.
    He started to pull his hand away, then stopped. Let her . Fascinated, he watched his big hand as it covered the large, firm globe of her breast over the thin layer