It was well after midnight when the air in my tiny bedroom shifted, gliding soft as a feather over my skin. 

With the light breeze shivering across me, Constantine Darke watched from the shadows, his golden eyes glowing like embers. The room filled up with his fiery, smoldering presence, his greedy gaze roaming over my body, like he was trying to decide where to start.

But I wanted more than his gaze.

I craved the bite of his hands on my wrists. Of his weight on my body. His lips on my mouth.

Rings glinted on his strong hands, a gold cuff on one wrist, exposed by rolled back shirtsleeves. The muscles of his forearms shifted beneath golden skin, and even though most of him was masked in shadows, I remembered every inch of those huge shoulders.

Why do I feel like I know you? 

Because you and I? He glided forward, as if carried on the wind. We have a complicated history.

Impossible. Yet somehow, his words didn’t feel like a lie. If that’s true, why don’t I remember you? His answering smile was hungry as a wolf’s, with a touch of menace.

You remember, Logan, you just don’t know it yet. The closer he got, the more Darke became the very essence of sex, his body layered with muscle, his hands strong, and his scent…dense and dusky and delicious. I breathed him in so deeply, I tasted him.

Let me remind you of all you’ve forgotten.

He prowled closer, his eyes burning brighter. 

I would remember someone like you, and I don’t. Everything about this place…isn’t what it seems, is it? 

No. It’s not. He dropped to the bed, straddling me, wrapping strong fingers around my wrists, pinning my hands high over my head. I didn’t resist.

No, I shuddered with yearning, as if we’d done this a hundred times, and I still wanted more. 

You have to leave in the morning. Take the money and go anywhere you want, but you can’t stay here.

My gaze gobbled him up, from his too-long hair, to his tattooed chest peeking out beneath his shirt. Maybe I want to stay.

That wasn’t your plan, Logan. You meant to keep moving.

Even with his hands on me, a chill shivered up my spine. How could you possibly know that?

I know everything about you. I know about the déjà vu. I know how unhappiness follows you, no matter where you go. As one elegant hand caged my wrists, the other drifted over my waist, circling, the whisper of his fingers moving steadily downwards. I went limp, spreading my legs in anticipation of those fingers traveling lower still. 

This is how it’s always been between us… 

He slanted his mouth over mine, his tongue plunging in. I opened for him, and when those clever fingers slipped underneath the edge of my panties, slid deeper and deeper, plunged inside…

I burst out of the dream, a quivering, sodden mess. 

I was soaked; I’d climaxed—hard and fast—from an imaginary kiss. 

From a goddamn dream about possibly the second biggest asshole I’d ever met. What in the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t want a man. Surely not one as arrogant as Darke and not when I’d be leaving in a matter of days. 

I flopped back onto the damp bed, squeezing my legs together.

But the rest of my dreams were no better, all of them featuring a set of burning gold eyes, watching from the shadows.