Page 9 of Lucien

Jamie shrugged. “No idea.”

“Okay…” Monique let out a slow breath, clearly using all her stores of patience to deal with him in his current state of euphoria. “What’s his deal, then?”

Jamie shook his head. “Couldn’t tell ya.”

They had a stare-off then, Jamie trying but completely unable to keep the stupid grin off his face. Monique blinked first, eventually shrugging and giving him a wry smile. “Is this one of those things I’m just gonna have to chalk up to Jamie being Jamie?”

“Jamie being Jamie” was how they danced around the issues of some of Jamie’s…particular weirdness.

“Sure is,” he answered cheerfully.

“Okay, well, congrats on meeting ‘the One.’” She used air quotes around the words, just to be a bitch. Jamie didn’t mind.

“You’re gonna have to ask Alice to help you out tomorrow,” he warned her. “I’ve got a date.”

That finally seemed to get to her. “Man,really? You’re just gonna bail on me like that?”

Jamie shrugged. “Sorry, darling. It’s an emergency. And I’m not officially your employee. Plus, this way, you get to flirt with sweet Alice all night long.”

Monique paused thoughtfully at that. “Solid point. I think she’s pretty close to going on a date with me.” She waved a dismissive hand at him. “Fine. Do as you will.”

Excellent. Everything was working out perfectly. Jamie resisted the urge to throw his head back and laugh like some evil mastermind. He cleared his throat. “Mind if I have a beer while you wipe up? I’ll get the chairs for you after.”

Monique shrugged. “Suit yourself. But drink it silently. I’m not talking to you while you’re this…giddy. It’s freaking me out.”

Jamie waved off her hesitance. “Whatever. I’m always in a good mood. This is nothing new.”

“Yes, youarealways in a good mood, weirdo. But not usually this”—she gestured vaguely at him—“this.”

He tossed a coaster at her, which she dodged with ease, ducking under the counter and setting a can of beer on the bar for him. He nodded his thanks, miming zipping his lips.

He didn’t mind if she wanted silence. That suited him better anyway. He had things to think about. Plans to make.

A monster to make his.

The visions had started when he was a teenager.

Well, no, the visions had been going on for as long as Jamie could remember. But the visions of his dream guy had started somewhere around his eighteenth birthday. Like a gift from the heavens, if Jamie believed in stuff like that.

Which he sure as shit did not.

But still. A gift. Because he’d known—he’d immediatelyknown—that this was the man for him. His person. His motherfuckingsoulmate.

It hadn’t been anything special. A handsome man adjusting the cuffs on a sleek leather jacket. But Jamie had felt an indescribablepullto that man.So that’s my type, he’d thought.That’s exactly it. No one else will do.

The visions of him had come regularly after that first night. At least weekly, sometimes more. Jamie’s favorite weeks were those where he got more than one. They…fed him. Fed his soul. He had a person out there, just for him. And he knew it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed in the real world, beyond the bounds of Jamie’s head.

And would you look at that? He’d been right.

He’d never heard a name—never seen anyone address the stranger by one—so Jamie had taken to calling him Dream Guy. As in, the man of his dreams. That was, until he’d seen Dream Guy rip out someone’s jugular anddrink from it. With his fuckingfangs.

And then Jamie had realized the man of his dreams was more like themonsterof his dreams.

As to whatkindof monster his visionary boo was, what with the blood drinking and the pointy chompers, vampire was what Jamie had come up with. But who the fuck really knew? Jamie had never met anyone other than human before.

Unless you counted himself.

Jamie didn’t count himself.

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