The Sleeping Beauty's Tale (2011) - Plot & Excerpts
Maeve mumbled. Devlin said nothing. She felt his hum, basso profundo, in the acoustic curve of her neck. It reverberated all the way to her feet. She kicked at the cloud of comforter surrounding them. “Tickle.” Devlin exhaled audibly. “That, too!” Maeve cocked her shoulders toward her ears for protection. The flat of his hand crept around her ribs. He pulled her against his body, skin-to-skin, ten degrees warmer and the rock-solid opposite of the pillows, mattress and covers cocooning them against the winter morning. Not exactly what she’d call spooning, though. Dev was too angular. The man was more of a fork. Or knife. “One more hour, Dev.” She slit one eye open to confirm her suspicions. “Not even morning, you madman.” He didn’t reply. Didn’t move. Didn’t soothe or sigh. He just held on. That’s what roused her. Nightmare. He got them now and then. Vivid, bloody awful things. Unconscious musings on worst-case scenarios portrayed across his mind’s eye in full sensory detail.
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