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“Good, good,” he murmured, and glanced to the fridge, considering having some of the chicken and salad he’d packed in their picnic. But he wasn’t really hungry at the moment, which was unusual. Justin was always hungry.

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” Gia asked suddenly, drawing his gaze back to her to see that she was staring at his head with a concentration that told him she was reading his thoughts. After a moment, she arched an eyebrow. “Dream sex?”

Justin sagged and then pulled out the chair across from hers and sat down before blurting, “I haven’t had any dream sex with Holly. That’s something that happens with life mates, but it hasn’t happened with us. Maybe she’s not my life mate. Maybe this has all been a terrible mistake. Maybe I turned the wrong woman. We—­”

“Justin,” Gia interrupted. When he paused and peered at her uncertainly, she said, “I do not think you have even slept at the same time yet. How can you have shared dream sex if only one of you is sleeping?

He blinked, and then quickly ran back through the time they’d spent together since that night at the funeral home. “I did sleep while she was in the turn. Not much, mostly nodding off now and then in a chair beside the bed, but—­”

“I hardly think it likely that she would have any kind of dreams while going through the turn,” Gia said dryly. “Nightmares perhaps, thanks to the pain, but not dreams, sexual or otherwise.”

“You’re probably right,” Justin said with a grimace.

Gia nodded. “Anders mentioned that you watched over her the night she returned home. Did you both sleep then?”

“No. I sat on the roof outside her window and watched her sleep,” he admitted quietly and when her eyebrows rose, he shrugged. “Lucian said watch her, so I watched her. Besides, it was a steep roof. I was afraid I’d fall off if I fell asleep. And I did have to watch for anyone spotting me.”

“I see,” Gia murmured and then pointed out, “Well, I’m quite sure you haven’t slept at the same time as Holly since arriving here.”

Justin shook his head. “I went to bed after the boys carried you two sleeping beauties to your rooms.”

“You didn’t sleep though. Not unless you sleep pace.” When Justin blinked, she said, “I woke up when Dante laid me in my bed, and then I couldn’t get back to sleep so I got up, bathed, painted my toenails . . .” She shrugged. “I heard you pacing through most of the night.”

Justin bowed his head, not denying it. Worried and fretting over how close Holly and her husband must be after actually growing up together, and how difficult that was going to make it for him to woo her, he’d found it impossible to lie down and relax enough for sleep to claim him. He’d spent most of the night, pacing his room like a caged tiger. The rest of it he’d spent lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling, his brain running around in circles until he’d given up and got up. Skipping sleep like that had meant that he’d had to take more blood than usual to get through the day without feeling like yesterday’s lunch, but . . .

“You must be exhausted. You should really go to bed now,” Gia said with a grin. “You will probably have those shared dreams everyone goes on about.”

Justin started to smile in response, but the smile died before fully formed and he didn’t move from his chair. Instead, he dropped his head on his arms on the tabletop and moaned, “I can’t. They might consider dream sex as undue influence.”

“What?” Gia squawked at the suggestion, and shook her head, waving the idea away like a cat batting away a pesky mouse. “Do not be ridiculous. They can hardly punish you for your dreams. You have no control over those.”

“Yes, but I do have control over whether I sleep at the same time as Holly,” he pointed out sadly.

She snorted at the words. “Did Lucian not insist that you are to train Holly yourself?”

“Yes,” he agreed miserably.

“How can you do that if you are sleeping when she is awake and awake only when she is sleeping?” she asked pointedly.

He sat up slowly, hope rising within him.

“You have to sleep, Justin,” she said firmly. “And you cannot be punished for dreams you have no real control over.”

“You’re sure of that?” he asked dubiously. In his experience, Lucian could blame you for whatever he chose.

Gia clucked her tongue and pulled a cell phone out of her pocket. She quickly punched buttons then placed the phone to her ear and waited. It took a ­couple of moments before her call was answered and she said, “Buonasera, Lucian. Did I wake you?”

Justin grimaced. Lucian was a grumpy bastard at the best of times. Tired, he would be completely miserable, he was sure.

Mi scusi. I will make this quick, si?” Gia said. “Tell Justin to sleep, per favore.”

Blinking, Justin raised his head, eyes widening.

Si. He has not slept since you left. He is exhausted and going through more blood than he should to make up for his lack of—­Si. Un momento.” She held the phone out to Justin.

Eyebrows rising, he took the phone and pressed it cautiously to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Go to bed,” Lucian growled. The order was followed by a click as he hung up.

Short and sweet, that was Lucian, Justin thought as he handed the phone back to Gia.

“You heard him, mio caro,” Gia said, a slow smile spreading her lips. Winking at him, she added, “You cannot be punished now if you go to bed and have the shared dreams. You were ordered there.”

“Yeah, but it probably didn’t occur to him about the shared dreams,” Justin pointed out. “Especially if you woke him up and—­”

“That is not our problem,” Gia said, unconcerned. “He ordered you to bed, so go to bed.”

After a hesitation, Justin muttered, “right,” and stood to head for the door.

“Sweet dreams,” Gia called out on a laugh.

He merely nodded in response as he pushed through the door. Justin wasn’t sure Gia was right and he would avoid being blamed for any shared dream sex that might occur once he slept, but Lucian had ordered him to bed. Surely that would at least mitigate any punishment? He didn’t know, but was desperate enough to take the risk. He needed to know for sure that Holly was his life mate, and that he hadn’t given his one turn to a woman who would never be his.

Of course, her being his life mate didn’t guarantee he would ever gain her agreement to be his mate. There was still the problem of her being married. But at least if she was his life mate he might be able to claim her eventually . . . in twenty or thirty years maybe, when her mortal husband died. Maybe even ten or so, if the fact that her husband was aging while she was not became a problem. It at least gave him hope he’d briefly lost when he’d realized they hadn’t experienced the shared dream sex that plagued life mates.

Justin picked up his pace as he started upstairs, his mind now thoroughly entrenched in what might be coming. From what he’d heard, even dream sex with a life mate was better than the real thing with a non life mate. He had no idea if that was true, but had every intention of finding out.

Holly shifted restlessly onto her back and opened her eyes. She had been tired when she’d come up here to her room, but was now finding it impossible to go to sleep. Maybe she should have had some of the chicken and potato salad Bricker had prepared for their picnic after all. Or maybe having the blood before bed had perked her up and washed away the weariness. Whichever the case, she wasn’t sleeping now and that fried chicken and potato salad she’d put into the refrigerator was practically calling out to her like a siren’s song.

Clucking under her tongue, she tossed aside the sheet and blankets covering her and got out of bed, switching on the bedside lamp as she did. Pausing as she took note of the pajamas she’d bought that day and now wore, she briefly considered changing into clothes or grabbing a housecoat, but really, was there any reason to? They were flannel after all, with dancing bears in pink tutus on them. She’d thought they were charming when she’d bought them, and they were cute as could be, but they were hardly skimpy or seductive. No one would accuse of her of trying to seduce anyone if she were caught out in them.