Before I Wake (10 page)

I didn’t.

“Nervous, Doc?”

Ever try not to shiver? It’s damned hard, but that’s exactly what I was trying not to do when Noah spoke in that bedroom voice of his.

I met his gaze and lifted my chin with more bravado than I felt. “Should I be?”

A slow smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Maybe a little.”

Oh God. I swallowed. “How did you sleep this weekend?”

“Alone. You?”

He’d never been deliberately sexual with me before. I guess me walking into his dream had certainly grabbed his attention. But then, he’d been getting flirty before that, too.

“Like a baby,” I replied, my voice annoyingly hoarse. “Did you take anything?”

“Yeah.” Noah bent his arm more, bringing his body even closer to mine. Mere inches separated us now. I could feel his breath on my cheek. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

His eyes sparkled. I could see my reflection in them. “Did you sleep alone?”

I was ashamed to admit it, even though he made it sound sexy. “That’s none of your business.” I needed to be away from him.

Now. I moved to the left.

And his other arm came up, palm slapping the door, cutting me off. I gasped, and my chest brushed his. I felt the tingle all the way down to my toes.

“I close my eyes and see you,” he murmured, tension seeping into his voice. “And then you come into my dream. I need to know, Doc, when I’m alone in my bed thinking of you, are you thinking of me?”

My eyes widened. “You mean am I making you think of me?”

He chuckled. “No, but now that you mention it, are you?”

“No!” I glared at him. “Time to get over yourself.”

He wasn’t the least bit offended. In fact, he was grinning at me. “You do think of me.”

My blush was all the answer he needed. He leaned in, chest to mine, stubble brushing my jaw as he put his lips close to my ear.

“Who are you? What are you?”

It was the “what” that kept my knees from buckling, that gave me a surge of power I never knew I had. Some other part of me took over as I lifted my hand to cup the back of his head. His hair was like raw silk between my fingers as I pressed myself against him, feeling the lean, hardness beneath his clothes. I put my mouth against the downy curve of his ear.

“Nothing you’ve ever seen before,” I whispered. And then I planted both hands on his chest and shoved. Hard.

Off guard, Noah stumbled backward, giving me enough room to flee to the safety of my desk. When I faced him again, he looked amused—and still very interested. How many times had I fantasized about him looking at me this way? And now that he was…wow. It scared me a little. Excited me, too.

And I wanted to jump him and damn the consequences.

“I want to know what’s going on,” he said softly.

That made two of us. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

He tilted his head. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

“Not here,” I replied. “I don’t have time. I don’t have all the answers.”

“But you have some.”

“Yes.”

He moved toward the desk, and I braced myself, swallowing hard. If he came after me again—if he touched me—I was a goner.

I think he knew that as well as I did, damn him.

He handed me a card. On it was the address of a gallery in Chelsea. “I’m having a show tomorrow night. Come.”

Notice that he didn’t ask if I would like to come, or that I would want to come. I wasn’t sure of the significance of this, but there had to be one, right? If I were a Freudian, I could no doubt think of several.

“A show? You mean of your own work?” The idea of seeing Noah’s creations was strangely exciting.

“No, Doc. Someone else’s work.” He softened the sarcasm with a smile. “Yes, mine.”

It was amazing to me just how much a smile changed his face—how young it made him look.

It was also amazing just how freaking sexy laugh lines were. I’d take those tiny little grooves that curved up toward his brow and down toward his cheeks over rock-hard abs any day.

Fortunately, Noah had both.

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll be there.”

His smile grew and changed into something slightly predatory. Now, if I weren’t interested, it might have bothered me, but having Noah look at me like he was the wolf and I was Little Red Riding Hood didn’t scare me at all—at least not in a bad way.

I wondered what his reaction would be if I kissed him. I wasn’t going to do it, of course, because he was my client, and we were in my office. But oh God, was I tempted!

I was saved from doing something totally unprofessional, not to mention potentially humiliating, by Bonnie of all people. She buzzed to tell me that Dr. Canning wanted to see me.

The tension between us eased. I actually found I could breathe easier, and Noah lost some of the intensity that surrounded him.

“I’d better go,” he said.

I could tell him to stay, that Dr. Canning only wanted the research I’d been working on for him. But I didn’t. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

At the door, he turned and regarded me for a moment. “Tomorrow night, I find out all your secrets.”

I smiled coyly. “A girl never reveals all her secrets, Noah.”

He returned the smile with one of his own. “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine, Doc.” And then he was gone, out the door leaving only the lingering scent of vanilla and cloves and the trembling in my thighs as proof that he had been there.

I sank into my chair and pressed my hands to my mouth to suppress nervous laughter. When he closed his eyes, Noah Clarke thought of me.

What was he going to think once I opened them?

That night I went to bed determined to contact Morpheus.

My bedroom was decorated like something out of the Mediterranean. The walls had been painted with a mottled effect in a muted, rich orange. Thick drapes in gold and blue hung in the window, matching the satiny bedspread that draped across my queen-size bed. I didn’t have any art on the walls except for the headboard, which was an amazing, scrolling structure of towering wrought iron. I had a black dresser, armoire, and vanity, and a huge black candleholder that stood about four feet off the ground and held about nine candles. Multicolored rugs decorated the floor, and bright cushions covered the bed.

It might seem kind of obnoxious to some, but it worked for me. It was my sanctuary, my little oasis of calm in a city that didn’t—well, rarely—sleep.

Dressed in a man’s undershirt and boxers, I slipped between the purple jersey sheets and sighed. It felt good.

It’s funny, but sometimes I have trouble going to sleep. Unless I specifically plan to go into the Dream Realm, sleep just doesn’t come for me like it does some people. But, if I want to dream—boom—I’m asleep. Tonight was a “boom” night; I was in the land of dreams seconds after my eyes closed.

I was within the walls I had built, but it was easier for me to get out this time—I knew the way. I thought of the place as my own castle, and it appeared as such—a huge English manor house that looked as though it could be home to all manner of Darcys, Rochesters, and yes, even Heathcliffs. It was familiar and comforting and leaving it was harder than I wanted to admit, but I opened the door to my “house” and stepped outside.

Actually, it was ridiculously easy after all the struggling I had done before to find my way out.

It’s difficult to explain what the Dream Realm really looks like. Any humans who enter it see it as their own design, which is true, but it’s a design based on the rules and construct of The Dreaming.

Think of it as your own personal Matrix without Keanu Reeves. It may seem like it’s all in your mind, but it’s real. Very real.

It was nighttime here, as it usually is. Daylight only lasts a few hours unless a dreamer brings it with them. As a creature of this world I saw The Dreaming exactly as it was: a large kingdom shrouded in mist. The great city sat on the edge of a cliff, domes and spires bright and silver in the moonlight. And even more mist. I remembered what lurked in that mist and started walking. Fast.

Had I been better at this I might have been able to put myself on the front step of Morpheus’s castle, or perhaps even inside, but it had been too long, and I was lucky to have found my way here at all on my own. As it was, I had managed to enter the world at the gates of the kingdom. I stood before the horn and ivory—much like those gates that guarded entry to the world itself—and waited for them to recognize me. The light of the full moon lit my face, made the horn and ivory glow, and filled me with a sense of strength.

A man bumped into me. I looked up to say something and found myself staring into familiar black-edged blue eyes. It was the Night Terror, but he didn’t “feel” like he should. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but he reeked of falseness.

“Little Light. How delightful to see you again.”

My heart felt like it was in my throat, choking me with every frantic beat. “Karatos.”

A smile of pure pleasure curved his lips. “You took the time to discover my name, how sweet.”

Sweet, my ass. “Are you stalking me?”

He folded well-muscled arms across an equally impressive chest. He was so perfect and beautiful to look at, and yet there was an awful twistedness to him—a mockery of beauty. “‘Stalking’ sounds so dirty. I thought we had something better than that. I like to think of it as ‘visiting.’”

I stared at him. My heart was back in my chest, but still pounding as though it might burst at any second. I wasn’t concerned about him hurting me. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t here to do that—he just wanted to scare me. “Why are you ‘visiting’? What am I to you?”

He grinned, perfect white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Oh, it’s not just me, Dawnie. It’s what you are to all of us. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Figured it out? All of us? I opened my mouth to ask another question just as the gates of horn and ivory creaked open beside us.

“That’s my cue,” Karatos said with a sigh of regret. Then he—It—grabbed me and kissed me before disappearing into the swirling mist.

The mist that was closing in around me. It was the guard dog of the Realm. I swear at that moment the damn stuff was whispering.

I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was not friendly.

I whirled around and ran through the gates, into the heart of my father’s Realm. I was safe from Karatos and the creepy mist here.

The horn and ivory, symbolizing the real and the false, closed behind me, cutting off any thoughts I had of turning and running. I didn’t want to do this, but it wasn’t as though I had a choice. Karatos had killed people. It had hurt Noah. And It had, for all intents and purposes, raped me and made me like it. It was going to pay for that, even if I had to swallow my pride and grovel at Morpheus’s feet to make it happen.

And now It was making comments about what I meant to “us.” What the hell was that about?

I walked up the cobblestone path, breathing in the night-blooming jasmine and fresh air. My heart gave a funny twist. Jasmine was my mother’s favorite.

Just ahead, looming high above all else, was the circular stone castle of Morpheus. It stood daunting and pale, its domes and pinnacles reaching for the starry sky. Looking at it, in all its shades of purple, blue, and silver, I wondered what colors Noah would choose to paint it.

Lights glowed from the many windows, giving this intimidating structure a welcoming cast. Music drifted on the breeze, along with the smell of something warm and delicious. I tilted my head back, lifting my nose to breathe in that heavenly scent. Was that funnel cake?

They knew I was coming. The funnel cake—one of my favorite things as a child—was proof of that. Some of my unease evaporated then. Neither my mother nor Morpheus would have conjured up funnel cake for my arrival were I not welcome.

The guards at the door to the castle—tall, onyx-skinned, manlike creatures with huge velvety bat-wings—bowed as I climbed the steps. The heavy wooden door, just like the gates below, opened for me without a word or a touch. I took a deep breath and walked inside.

If the outside of Morpheus’s home was impressive, the inside was breathtaking. The floor of the main hall was golden marble, the walls alabaster, with delicate arches that rose to the ceiling—a good forty feet above my head. Classical sculptures lined the walls, and the glass in the windows shimmered like fine crystal.

In the middle of this grandeur stood a man and a woman. She was average height, slim and brunette, with a smile that belonged in a toothpaste commercial. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse, jeans, and mules. He was tall and well built in boots, jeans, and a gray cashmere sweater. He was rugged-looking, with thick dark hair touched with auburn, and aqua blue eyes. My eyes.

“Uh…” I cleared my throat. “Hi.”

“My baby!” My mother’s dark eyes filled with tears, and she launched herself at me. I staggered back from the force of her exuberance. I didn’t want to hug her, but she was clinging to me so tightly, and there was this burning in the back of my eyes…

Morpheus stayed where he was. Maybe he and I were more alike than I thought because he seemed to know that I wasn’t ready for the big homecoming. My mother, on the other hand, probably knew this as well but just didn’t care. She was just happy to see me.

I wish I wasn’t so happy to see her. I mean, it was good, but all I could think about was how there were people back home in Toronto who had given up on living just to watch this woman sleep. Thinking of them, brought the anger back, and I dropped my arms, standing stiffly until she released me.

She eyed me sadly. I was unmoved. I was, damn it. “I suppose I deserve that,” she said.

I met her gaze. “I suppose you do.”

“You’re a little bit old to come home just because you want something,” Morpheus announced, his voice as low and cool as a shadow. “Aren’t you, Dawn?”

He was obviously the one from whom I got my pride—and my bitter streak. I looked at him, saw myself in the strange blue of his eyes, the bit of red in his hair. “I wouldn’t be here at all if you were doing your job.”

My mother gasped and my…Morpheus’s jaw tightened. I guess people didn’t take my father to task very often.