It was a long time before Katie could fall asleep again. Her mind was racing with all kinds of things—the young man in the garden, Clarissa, Mom, and Grandma. She tried in vain to distract herself away from those thoughts long enough to fall asleep. In the end, she was only able to drop off because she was so exhausted.

But in her dreams, she was looking down at the backyard, from the window again. The garden was as before—silent, lit only by moonlight. However, once again she sensed something else in the dark, a presence. She leaned closer to the window, scanning the shrubbery with her eyes, looking for something in the darkness, something wrong.

Her breath fogged the glass pane in front of her face, obscuring her vision. Then, beyond the opaque lens of the window, she thought she could see movement below. She reached out to wipe the fog from the glass and her hand inexplicably passed through the window. Yet, she wasn't surprised by this. It seemed to most natural thing in the world that her hand should not be stopped by anything solid. She stretched her hand out even further, until her whole arm was outside the window. Curious, she leaned forward, let her body pass through the glass.

Then, she was in the night air, above the patio. Her hair fluttered about her face and she brushed it back with one hand, so she could see the ground two stories beneath her. The cool autumn breeze churned her nightgown against her legs and the sound of the thin cotton flapping against body created a counter rhythm to the rustle of dried leaves on the ground and the swish of the arborvitae and boxwoods below.

She floated, two stories up, unconcerned about the fact that she was floating, or how she was floating, or even why. Her only interest was in searching the darkness, in locating the source of her anxiety—this presence, this feeling of casual malevolence. She stared down into the shadows cast by the landscaping, shadows on shadows of bushes, trees, sculptures.

The slightest movement in the bushes drew her attention and she fixed her eyes on it, trying to determine the source. She peered deeper into the darkness as her body drifted downward. As she approached the shadowy hedge, she thought she could make out a darker part of the blackness. But could that be right? Or was it simply that her eyes were straining, trying to find something when nothing was there?

She could almost make out a shape, almost see a movement, as she drifted so close to a row of tall bushes that she could nearly touch them. But as she extended her hand in front of her, it passed through the plants, the same as it had passed through the window. And now, confident, she let her head follow to the other side...

...until she was face to face with the man from before. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, then they narrowed and a fiendish grin stretched his lips, exposing two long, sharp incisors. He leaned toward her and wagged his tongue between those fangs in a disgusting, terrifying, and most certainly personal insult. Katie gasped and threw herself back from him.

She awoke with a sudden jerk, heart pounding and breath short, in her own bed. It took several seconds before she could believe she was safe. The dream had been so real, so intense, that even knowing it was only a product of stress and worry, she still feared the man with the teeth.

Katie sighed. There would be no sleep tonight. She knew that she would see that face every time she closed her eyes, even for a second. She threw off the blanket and got up. It would be quite some time before the children were up and ready for lessons. It was hours before sunrise, even. She would have to find some way to occupy her mind, keep her from thinking of that horrible dream.

"Maybe a book in the library." She thought, as she padded down the stairs in her bare feet. She had yet to fully explore all the shelves.

She worried a little that she would get turned around in the darkened big house. It occurred to her when she was halfway down the steps that she didn't exactly know where all the light switches were located. But the motion activated baseboard lights turned on as she approached them, and she didn't need the overhead lighting to find her way. When she reached the bottom of the steps, a look down the hall told her someone had left a light on in the library.

Katie made her way down the hall, past the kitchen, to the library. As she neared, she heard music playing softly from inside. It was soft enough that she couldn't quite determine what kind of music it was, what kind of instruments were playing, or even whether or not there were vocals. She slowed her steps and strained her ears.

It was unusual, that there would be music playing in the middle of the night. Unusual too, that there was music at all. She had never noticed Walter listening to music of any kind since she'd been here. She was not even aware of any devices in the library—no radio, tv, or cd player.

Of course, Walter or Bill could be listening to something on their phone or on one of the laptops. Or, one of the children could have come down here, stealthily violating bedtime. Katie put one hand on the slightly ajar door and pushed.

"Hello?" She entered the room carefully and looked around.

"Well, hello." A man's voice said from behind her. She turned to see Adrian Chesterfield, standing in the doorway.

He was dressed in the same suit he had been wearing when they met, but the tie was undone and hanging loose around his collar. He was standing close enough she could smell his cologne, a woodsy, musky scent that shot straight through her senses and dinged her brain. She breathed him in, deeply and satisfyingly, without even realizing that she was doing it.

Her thoughts rushed, a torrent of senses through her head that both confused and excited her. He was standing close to her, so close. She lifted her eyes to his lips, half smiling and looking as though he were about to speak. She traced the faint line of a five o'clock shadow on his jawline. That—she couldn't even call it stubble—that slight darkening of complexion was not enough to mar his perfect skin or detract from his look in the least. In fact, it gave him a ruggedness that was very, very attractive.

She imagined how it would feel to graze his cheek with her own, feel the tiny frictions of his skin against her skin. She imagined being closer still, close enough to lose herself in that touch, in the masculine scent of his body. It was all she could do to keep her hand from reaching out on its own to caress his face, his hair, his chest. She...

He was looking at her as if he could read her mind and her thoughts made him smile—a not at all polite smile. It was a smile that said he was thinking similar thoughts about her. Or worse.

"I..." She stammered, aware now that she was standing close enough to him that she could feel his body heat through the thin material of her nightgown. Even more shocking, she was aware that she was standing there in only her nightgown and felt no embarrassment or awkwardness. Instead, she was almost excited by that awareness. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Of course you didn't." He drew her into his arms, enveloped her in a sweet, yet sensual embrace. He buried his nose in her hair murmuring something in her ear that she wasn't quite sure she even understood it to be words.

She knew, on some level, that she was acting counter to her personality, her morals, and her best interests. This was dangerous behavior, and it could cost her everything. Yet, she had no way of stopping herself from acting in this manner. Her skin was flushed and sensitive. Every touch of his fingertips, every breath in her ear, shot electricity through veins and made her crave more touches and more breaths. She wrapped her arms around him, sliding her hands up under his jacket.

Adrian said nothing, but his breathing, his subvocalizations were encouragement enough and she clung to him with an ardor that bordered on obsession. Her heart pounded, hard and fast, and she could feel it beat against his chest as he held her. He slid his lips along the slope of her neck, sending lightning bolts of heat throughout her whole body. Katie tilted her head, exposing her throat to him even more. Her hands moved down, tugged his shirt from his pants. Her breath was shallow with excitement.

She could feel Adrian's lips curl into a grin as he moved along her throat to her collarbone, then lower. His hand found its way to her breast and his fingers stroked her nipple through the cotton fabric of her nightgown, making her moan softly. The sound elicited a response from Adrian, a grunt of passion or of satisfaction.

The music, so quiet when she walked into the room, now seemed loud, almost overpowering. If Walter or Bill heard it and came to investigate... She burned with shame and guilt, but those feeling only enhanced her other sensations. She squeezed her fingers into his shoulders, gripping him tightly as she burned. Adrian ran both hands up under her gown, cupping her bottom and lifting her up to him.

"Yes." She whispered in his ear as he carried her to the closest table. Or maybe she hadn't voiced it at all? Maybe she had only thought I want this as her body betrayed every logical thought she had ever had. It was crazy that she should be doing this, that she should want this more than any other thing she had ever wanted. It was crazy that she didn't even care whether she had said it or thought it or shouted it from the rooftop. It was crazy and she desperately wanted this kind of crazy, and right now.

She fastened her lips on his and she could feel his smile against her as she kissed him without reservation. She felt the weight of his chest on hers as he eased her back onto the table, the heat of his body. His tongue found its way into her mouth, brushing her lips and exciting them to eager fullness. Then he was pushing beyond to stroke her pallet, push even deeper. This carnal invasion was experienced and welcomed by her whole body, and she could feel him hard and hot, pressed against her and poised just outsi--

She almost didn't recognize the alarm going off beside the bed, and it was even more difficult to understand what was happening. But then, her eyes opened and she was in bed in her room. Her heart still pounded, her blood still boiled and churned. But she knew that none of that had actually happened. She was as much disappointed as she was relieved.

She sighed, feeling very much ashamed to have had a sexy dream about a man she had met one time for about five minutes, and touched the off button on the alarm. She would have to make it a cold shower this morning.