Beyond the pain rocketing through his body, Ronan tried to slow his rate of speed as he came toward the T-junction wall between two tunnels.

I'm going too fast.

Oh, shit.

The wall came up and he hit full force. Everything went black.

Clarissa's nightmares came alive as she tossed and turned in the hotel bed.

Chills rippled over her skin as she walked in the tunnels beneath the crypt. Freezing cold, without a jacket, she walked fast toward an unknown area. She must locate Ronan right away, though she couldn't understand why.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her limbs tight with exhaustion as she trembled in the biting cold. In her gut she knew something had gone dreadfully wrong.

She dared to speak. "Ronan! Ronan where are you?"

No answer. Fear leaked into her bloodstream as sweat formed on her forehead. Anxiety and worry formed out of nowhere and took her prisoner. She couldn't remember feeling this devastated, as if someone she loved beyond all things had been taken from her.

"Ronan, damn it, where are you?"

Then she saw a form against the wall at the far side of the tunnel and her heart wanted to stop. "Ronan?"

She ran toward the figure and when she reached it, she saw him lying unconscious in a crumpled heap on his back, his face bloodied, a gash in his side and blood soaking his sweater. "Ronan!"

She started to reach out for him and his eyes snapped open.

She inhaled sharply. "ThankGod."

His right hand went out to her but she couldn't move. Tears of worry and fear stung her eyes. She tried to form words, but no sounds came from her throat.

His eyes widened, his lips parting as he struggled to convey something to her. She heard him strain to say, "Clarissa."

A horrible sense of dread crept over her and she swung around.

A gargoyle head, red eyes flashing with hatred, glared at Ronan and then laughed. She shivered with repulsion. Spikes of cold, unholy fear invaded her.

"No!"

Clarissa snapped out of her dream with a jolt as she sat upright in bed. Quivering, she reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Frantic, she slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe. She put it on and fastened the ties around her waist with shaky fingers. She grabbed her slippers by the bed and jammed them on her feet. Then she stopped.

"What am I doing?" Sinking down on the edge of the bed, she crossed her arms and waited for some of the shaking to subside.

As in her dream, she obeyed reflex action. Rubbing her temples, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She must calm down and think.

"It was just a dream."

Wasn't it?

Ronan said he'd retrieve her camera, but why would she dream about him being injured unless...unless this ancient one had harmed him? Determined to forget her reaction to the weird dream, she took off her robe and slippers. When she saw Ronan tomorrow she'd tell him about the weird dream and he'd laugh.

Terror lingered and with it the contrasting memories of Ronan's extraordinary lovemaking. How did a woman stand being around Ronan Kieran without liquefying into a writhing mass of sexuality on a regular basis?

She glanced at the bedside clock and it read four o'clock in the morning. Today would be a long day. No doubt Ronan would try to monopolize all her time. She supposed she couldn't avoid him; he'd managed to evade answering many of her questions and they hadn't discussed how to defeat the ancient one and how she fit into the picture, other than prophetic dreams.

With a sigh of exhaustion, she closed her eyes and hoped for sleep.

Clarissa waited in her room until nine in the morning but Ronan didn't show. With the residual disturbance of last night's dream continuing to haunt her, she paced the room, dressed in her warmest turtleneck and sweater and her flannel-lined jeans. The weather channel on the television said conditions would hover around the freezing mark for the rest of the week.

Damn Ronan. Didn't he understand she needed her camera to do her work? Then she sighed in self-recrimination. The man offered to get her camera to keep her safe and here she was complaining about it?Guilt stopped her mental carping.

A few moments later, Clarissa dialed Erin's home and Lachlan answered. She asked if they'd seen Ronan.

"No," Lachlan said. "We didn't see him after he left with you. "Why?"

"When he left me last night, he said he'd return this morning with my camera. I figured he'd be here by now."

"I wouldn't worry about him. He's one tough son-of-a-bitch. If he hasn't turned up this morning it's for a good reason."

"I wasn't worried about him. I was concerned about my camera."

Lachlan laughed. "Okay. If I see him I'll be sure to tell him. By the way, if you want company, Erin is working at the library this morning. We could swing by and pick you up. You'll be safe there."

"What I really need is an escort to take me around to get more photographs."

"Clarissa," Lachlan's voice sounded a little perturbed, "don't you think staying safe and figuring out how to finish off the ancient one is more important?"

For a moment she'd forgotten that everything wasn't normal. "Yes. But I can't help any of you figure out what needs to be done while I'm stuck in this hotel room."

"Good point."

They made plans to meet in the lobby in thirty minutes. She left a note on her bed stand and at the front desk for Ronan telling him where she'd gone.

As she stood in the lobby, she half wished Ronan would come striding into the hotel.

Ronan's absence felt wrong, and she wished she understood why. By the time Erin walked into the lobby with Lachlan's arm around her, Clarissa's nerves felt a little frayed.

She envied the easy love she felt flowing between the big Scot and the petite woman.

Erin managed to look happy despite the events surrounding them. Lachlan's initial expression, stern and watchful, changed to relaxed.

Erin and Lachlan greeted her with smiles and hugs, but Clarissa saw the worried expressions on their faces. They walked out to Erin's Subaru Forester, piled inside, and Lachlan headed toward the library.

Erin turned to look at Clarissa in the backseat. Her brows were pinched together a little.

"Now tell me why you're frowning so hard."

Shrugging, Clarissa tried pushing away her fears. "I wish I could tell you. It's just a niggling feeling I've had since I woke up this morning. A dream."

"A prophetic dream?" Lachlan asked.

"I'm not sure." Clarissa thought about it a little more. "Not all of my dreams are prophetic. This one was frightening and weird."