Eternal Hotel (The Sullivan Vampires, Book 1) by Essex Bridget

Author:Essex, Bridget [Essex, Bridget]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Published: 2013-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

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Somehow, impossibly, I found the way back to my rooms and my bathrobe and the boxed food in the freezer that went into the microwave and then my stomach. I don’t remember what I ate or how I made it or how I found the utensils to eat it with. I was in a haze. I wanted to talk to Gwen, needed to talk to her, but she wasn’t in her rooms.

I fell asleep with my feet on the little antique ottoman, and my body curled up on the bright blue chair, the handkerchief she’d given me clutched in one hand.

And I dreamed.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Kane, which is how I explained the dream, afterward. She was the last thought that I’d had before falling asleep, so of course she would be the thing I dreamed of. Of course. But that calm explanation didn’t exactly reach me in that moment as I realized I was dreaming, as I opened my dreaming eyes, and she was standing in front of me.

Kane Sullivan.

Her white-blonde hair almost glowed beneath the moonlight, luminous and bright. We were out standing on a broken sidewalk, bits of concrete pressing through the thin bottom of my flats against the skin of my feet as I shifted, leaning toward her. Maybe we were in my old town, maybe we were in Eternal Cove, though it was hard for me to say, since I’d not seen Eternal Cove hardly at all, just that first time that Gwen drove me through it on the way to the Sullivan Hotel.

Either way, no matter where we were exactly, we now stood on a sidewalk in front of an old, gothic church. The steeple loomed overhead, long and thin and sharp, like a needle. I was wearing my favorite red jacket, the one with the soft pockets and the satin lining. She was wearing her mens’ suit, a single white rose at a hole in the lapel, its petals soft and almost glowing, too, in the darkness of the night. The wind was soft and cool as it played with her hair, moving it this way and that as she stood in front of me, her hands deep in her suit jacket pockets. Her eyes were that same violent blue, the blue so dark and deep and bright, all at the same time, that when she stared into me, it seemed—as cheesy as it sounds—that she was seeing to the depth of my soul and back.

Something stirred in my belly as our gazes locked, as we stood about a foot apart, the coolness of her skin washing over mine, even though there were those twelve short inches between us, and she was not, in fact, actually touching me. Everything about her was a gravity, I realized, as she held her hand out to me. I couldn’t not place my fingers within her palm, I couldn’t not step forward as she pulled me gently, tugging my arm so that I glided forward effortlessly,

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