I woke during the night, sweat-soaked and tangled in the sheets with a scream trapped in my throat. My heart raced, and my breathing labored.

I rarely dream, or, at least, I do not often remember my dreams. As a child, I had horrible nightmares which made me scream at night, but the dreams were gone the instant I woke—leaving only the feeling of terror in their wake.

They stopped when my dad brought home a little charm bracelet to protect my sleep. The tiny seashell was on a silver chain, and I wore it every day, even though I knew it was only his way of comforting me.

I touched my wrist and frowned—the charm was gone. Sorrow sparked through me at the loss; it was one of my favorite things. My subconscious must have noticed it and manifested the dream to make me aware of my loss, but it had been so vivid, though...

An involuntary shudder ran through me. I could still feel the cold embrace of that hostile sea and how it closed in around me, drowning me as I sank, trapped by the rigging of that old-fashioned boat.

I remembered staring up through the water and seeing the slanting rays of sunlight shining down through the growing darkness as my burning lungs urged me to breathe. The despair and the building pressure of those deep waters remained.

Mermaids can't drown, and I would never be that helpless under water. I would have used my retractable talons to cut the rope and swim to the surface before ever succumbing to danger.

A human would feel like that when they drown, and even though it was just a dream, it was so realistic, particularly in that last moment when my body gave out on my will. I gasped for air, but my lungs filled with water. It was so painful, and then the final twilight of death folded over my vision and doused the light.

There was something else as well, two repeating phrases. ~My Lucien, I failed!~~ Forgive me, my love.~

My hand seemed to reach toward the surface before becoming still in one last pathos-filled moment.

In the safety of my bed, I almost tore the sheets as I struggled to untangle my legs, coming upright to make my way to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face.

I hoped to get rid of the last lingering dregs of terror. My eyes were wide, their color a stormy violet-blue in the mirror's reflection. My fangs were slightly out, and my teeth sharper than usual. It took willpower to gain control over myself, yet flashes of the dream still played behind my lids.

"Enough!" I yelled at my image in the mirror, staring myself down, and just like that, I was once again in control.

The feelings faded away, all but the remembered coldness of death in that final moment. Its echo remained even as I reached the kitchen and took the milk out of the fridge to make some hot Milo and settle myself to get back to bed.

The chocolatey goodness didn't work its usual magic, and my sleep was restless and fitful, repeating flashes of dream every time I finally settled. My unrest intensified and had me up before dawn, leading me down to the pool.

The best thing about this building was the heated half Olympic size pool and the upstairs gym, which is open to all occupants. At this time of the morning, though, it was blissfully deserted.

The motion of swimming calmed me, although I had to remind myself of the cameras and adjust my pace constantly. Still not entirely calm, I made my way up to the gym.

A few miles on the treadmill helped, but not yet free of my sense of wrongness, I cycled until adrenaline finally chased away the shadows, and tired, I returned to my apartment for a hot shower and was feeling much better.

While drinking my coffee and staring out the window, I checked the time on the wall-mounted clock, and my eye fell on the contract. It had slipped my mind, and it was odd that it lay on my coffee table. Usually, I take important papers to my office.

With a frown tugging at my brows, I took it outside and stared out over the city before studying it thoroughly. It still sounded almost too good to be true but was very legitimate.

I shamelessly used my father's contacts–making a few discreet inquiries that left me disturbed. Walker Calais Enterprises was very real, legit, and respectable, depending on who you talked to, with a bit of a touch of mystery at the edges.

Settling the phone on the table, I stared at the contract lying on my folded legs before glancing up and finding myself enchanted by my excellent view of the city. Already my heart longed for the sea, and I could hear, smell and taste it if I just closed my eyes.

The memories of the night before stirred again, and I ruthlessly pushed them out of my head. Although I procrastinated, I had already made up my mind.

My phone rang, but I didn't recognize the number. The tension in my midsection made me frown. Was the dream making me so jumpy?