Silver Bullet: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (State of Grace Book 2) by Colette Rhodes

Author:Colette Rhodes [Rhodes, Colette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2021-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

Fortunately, after staying up most of the night, an orgasm was enough to tip me into the dreamscape pretty easily. I was pulled into a few visions I didn’t care about at first, but that was fine since Grace seemed to be taking longer to fall asleep.

Hopefully because she was so mind blown by our afternoon activities and eager for a repeat. That would be nice.

Eventually, I was able to tug on the thread that connected us, feeling it wrap around us both as I pulled her through the dreamscape, seeking out Wild’s head.

The more I visited someone, the more instinctive it was to jump into their head. After my first meeting with Wild and the kiss that I tried to pretend never happened, I had deliberately steered clear of his mind. I’d never been shown any visions of his future either, which I thought was a mercy from the goddesses, but I now realized it was probably because Grace’s soul bonds were hidden from me. There had been blanks in what I’d seen of Riot’s future too, before he met Grace.

We landed in Wild’s dream—which was always risky business because people had weird thoughts in general—but this was the opposite of weird. It was boring. Grim, even.

“Where are we?” Grace whispered, as if worried we’d disturb the lone figure in the center of the room. We were in some kind of drab, industrial gym. Wild was facing away from us, the dark skin of his muscular back soaked with sweat, muscles rippling as he whaled on a punching bag.

Grace sucked in a breath and I grinned at her, not that she noticed. Wild was a big guy and stacked with muscle, like most Keres were. He’d been a semi famous boxer in London before he’d mysteriously quit and moved to Milton.

She was staring at him like she was memorizing him—his dark brown skin, buzzed black hair, red athletic shorts, muscular legs. Wild was a specimen of masculinity, that was for sure. That kiss years ago had been a mistake, but I wasn’t blind.

“Wild?” Grace breathed, unable to take her eyes off him. I nodded, eyeing his movements. He made each hit look so fluid and easy, but I had no doubt that even at half strength he could knock me clean across the room with one hit.

“Wild,” I confirmed. “He can't see us yet. I can't believe he dreams about training. This might be the most depressing dreamscape I've ever visited.”

And I had seen some shit in my life.

“It’s very lonely,” Grace agreed softly, her gentle voice the only noise in the place except for the rhythmic thwack of Wild's wrapped fists against the bag. “He has no tattoos,” she added suddenly, cocking her head to the side.

“Are you stereotyping us daimons?” I teased, bumping her with my shoulder. “Wild is a notorious loner, getting a tattoo might require too much social interaction for him. He’s amassed this small empire in Milton, and his influence seems to extend beyond that, but I don’t really understand how.

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