Darkness Calls by Caridad Piñeiro

beneath her feet shifted into dark, gray cobblestones. All around her, the air grew colder. The sun dimmed and the sky took on a gray pall. When she looked up once more, the sun was totally gone, replaced by dismal dusk and the golden spire of a building that looked vaguely familiar. Ryder still stood, his hand outstretched, spurring her onward.
    She hastened her pace and the closer she got, the more she felt…serene and accepted. As she met his hungry gaze, she understood that something existed between them. He would continue to press until she could no longer deny him.
    She stepped up to him and took hold of his hand. It was warm beneath her fingers. He murmured her name with such longing it nearly broke her heart. But it was a dream, she told herself, and in her dreams, she was in charge and free to say whatever she was feeling.
    â€œWhat do you want from me?” She reached up and caressed the side of his face. The bristle of his beard tickled her palm.
    He devoured her with his gaze and she swayed toward him. In response, he grasped her waist. His hand cradled the side of her and her skin heated beneath his touch.
    â€œDo you know who you are?” he asked, his voice soft, caressing.
    It was only a fantasy, she thought again, and in that wonderful state where anything was possible, she smiled and raised herself up on her tiptoes, leaning into him. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
    He smiled and bent his head, bringing his lips close to hers. His shaky exhalation bathed her lips with heat. “This is wrong,” he murmured, even as he brought his lips to hers and she had her first taste of him.
    â€œRyder,” she sighed against his hard, sculpted mouth.
    Suddenly he wrenched away and glanced down at their entwined hands. She looked, as well. Blood covered their hands and dripped down onto the cobblestones.
    He said her name, his voice a low growl. He transformed before her eyes. Long, menacing fangs erupted from his mouth. His eyes glowed with an unusual golden light and his skin paled, becoming almost translucent. His change into a demon wrenched her out of the dream.
    She sat upright in bed, breathing heavily. “That was bad, Diana. Really, really bad.” She dragged her hand through her short hair and found it soaked with sweat.
    For too long she had suffered from night terrors. When she was a child, her mother and younger brother had been aficionados of motion pictures dealing with monsters and demons. Not wanting to be left out of their Saturday movie adventure, Diana had braved those visits to the cinema. It had inevitably resulted in nightmares that woke her in the middle of the night.
    As an adult, she had learned to discount those dreams. Her best friend and college roommate, now an attorney at a Manhattan law firm, had been there more than once when Diana awoke from one of her terrors. Her friend had understood, and on her wedding day many years later, she had pressed a piece of the wedding cake into Diana’s hands and told her to stick it under her pillow. With that slice of sweetness and a wish, Diana would dream of her Prince Charming.
    And so, as sensible, scientific and serious as Diana normally was, that one last glass of champagne had lowered her resistance enough that she had gone home and shoved the napkin-wrapped piece of cake under her pillow and made her wish. She’d awakened, breathing heavily and shaking, fear hanging over her. No Prince Charming despite the ritual. As always, she had tried to piece together the vague, unsettling images from her subconscious and logically interpret the visions that usually became nightmares.
    Tonight’s fantasy had started out differently. It was rare for her to dream of anything remotely nice and remember it. Then again, the dream had started out with Ryder in it. That should have given her a clue it wouldn’t end happily.
    Since their meeting a few days ago, he had plagued her waking thoughts, and