Before I Wake (19 page)

“Tall guy all in black by the bar. He’s drinking a Corona.”

She made a face. “That’s Noah?”

What the hell was that? “Yeah. What?”

She came down off her toes but didn’t look at me. She was still looking at him. “He’s not what I expected.”

“And that was?” Seriously, I was getting a little ticked. She didn’t have to agree that Noah was possibly one of the sexiest men on the planet, but she didn’t have to talk like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe either.

Julie frowned as we made our way back to our table. “Dude’s a little intense-looking.”

Yes, she actually called him a “dude.” That wasn’t surprising—she called me “dude” all the time. What was surprising was her thinking Noah was intense. I glanced across the bar again. I suppose he could be.

“It’s just his eyes,” I told her. He could control everything, close down everything but his eyes. It was all about retaining control with Noah. No wonder he had freaked out when I walked into the dream that he had to control on his own.

If he had come here looking for me, it was a big step for him, and the least I could do was meet him halfway.

“I’ll be right back,” I told my friend, as she sat down; and then I turned to make my way through the crowd.

I kept my gaze fastened on Noah as I weaved through the wall of bodies separating us. He looked to the right, then slowly brought his head back…bang. Our gazes met. Surprise flickered briefly in his eyes as he straightened, then he moved forward, also braving the throng to meet me.

The crowd seemed to disappear. I know how hokey that sounds, but at that moment, when Noah was walking toward me, there was no one else in the world but he and I.

Neither of us spoke until we were standing inches apart—there was no point when the music was so loud.

“Hi,” I shouted.

A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Your roommate told me where to find you.”

Ahh, Lola. She was either a genius or a busybody, I hadn’t quite decided. I leaned toward him, feeling the heat of him through his clothes and mine. God he smelled good. “Well, you found me.”

A warm hand on my back stopped me from pulling back. We were so close we might as well be slow dancing. “I need to talk to you,” he said loudly near my ear.

I met his gaze for a second, feeling suddenly more confident than I ever had before with him. “I need to talk to you, too.”

“Can we go somewhere?”

Yeah, we could. We could go to my place, or we could go to a restaurant, but all of those were safe for Noah because they didn’t require letting me into his world. They didn’t require trust. I trusted Noah with the secret of who I was. It was time for Noah to trust me.

I locked my gaze with his. “Let’s go to your place.”

“My place?” Noah’s mouth was so close to my ear when he spoke that I felt the moist heat of his breath on my skin, shivered under the low timbre of his voice.

Shaking off the goose bumps he’d just given me, I smiled in what I hoped was a confident manner. “Yes. Your place.”

“You sure?” I knew what he was asking. He wanted to make certain I’d be okay with whatever happened once we were at his place. I couldn’t say, but we needed to talk, and he’d feel more in control on his own turf.

And okay, maybe part of me was hoping he’d make a move. I wasn’t sure I was ready for sex, but I was ready for something.

I nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

My heart was pounding at this point. What the hell was I doing, going off to Noah’s place? I didn’t know where he lived—should have memorized it from his file. What if he turned out to be the psycho? Couldn’t imagine it, but I suspect that’s what a number of assaulted or dead women would say about their attacker.

I got my stuff from our table and told Julie where I was going. She immediately turned to Noah. “What’s your address?”

To my surprise, he rhymed it off. He lived in the Village. No real big surprise there. Julie asked his last name as well and wrote the info down on a napkin that she stuffed in her purse. She smiled at Noah. “No offense, but I don’t know you.”

His head bobbed in another of those sharp nods of his. “None taken. I’m glad Doc has someone looking after her.”

I almost rolled my eyes at the sentiment, as sweet as it was. Julie, however, shot me an amused glance. No doubt she’d tease me about “Doc” next time I spoke to her.

“Call me tomorrow,” she ordered, as I slipped my purse over my arm.

“I will,” I promised, and gave her a quick hug. “You going to be okay here?”

She waved away my concern. “I’ll call Joe. He’ll come meet me.”

I felt better knowing she wouldn’t be walking home alone, and turned to Noah. “Let’s go.”

We got our coats from the check counter. I was still buttoning mine when we walked out into the surprisingly balmy night air.

Noah hailed a cab—smart boy knew better than to drink and drive—and we were in the back and in motion before Noah even gave the address.

We didn’t speak during the drive. I sat on my side and stared at the city passing by. Noah sat on his side and did the same. But on the seat between us, his fingers found mine and entwined.

Finally, the cab stopped, and I slid out behind Noah after he paid the driver, my hand still in his. As the taxi pulled away, I straightened my coat and took a moment to look around.

The street was narrow, punctuated with large, dense trees that had lost most of their leaves, leaving the sidewalk and small lawns covered in a blanket of orange. Most of the buildings looked residential, but one had a restaurant in the basement.

Noah’s building was a big redbrick block with huge windows on the second floor and smaller, barred ones on the bottom. The bars had been painted black and had the look of old wrought iron.

“Rent or own?” I asked, as he slid the key to the lock on a very heavy wooden door.

“Own,” he replied. “Warren and I bought it. He teaches aikido downstairs.”

“Aikido.” I arched a brow. “Neat.” Not to mention, it could be useful.

Noah didn’t reply, he just looked at me as though he was trying to figure me out. I wished him luck. Then he pushed open the door, stepped inside, pushed a few buttons on a keypad, and gestured for me to come in. “After you.”

I walked into the closet-sized foyer. There was just enough room for Noah and me to stand there at the foot of a wide staircase.

The lighting was soft, casting Noah in a glow that made him more golden. I fought the urge to stare and started up the stairs. I heard the door close and lock behind me, then Noah’s footsteps followed.

At the top of the stairs was a set of French doors with thick glass panes. They were locked, so I waited for Noah to come up behind me with the key. His chest brushed my shoulder as he leaned forward. I wanted to turn around and wrap myself around him.

But I didn’t.

The doors opened, and I walked in, my mouth dropping at the sight that met me. I knew Noah had money, and I was willing to bet he had done most of the work himself, but the floor was gleaming hardwood slabs. That same slick wood formed huge door arches and wide window frames. The windows had to be eight feet tall and four wide. The ceilings were easily twenty feet. There were thin strips of that same wood where the ceiling met the cream-colored walls, thicker strips at the floor where a hip-high length of the wall was painted a reddish chocolate color. This carried through the wide, massive space that was the main area of the apartment. From where I stood I could see living room—decorated in chocolate and beige—dining area, and kitchen. Farther down the length of the building there was a door to the right—the bathroom probably—then another set of doors passed that—to what looked like a studio. A set of stairs off the living area led to a loft area, which I assumed was Noah’s bedroom.

What did his bed look like, I wondered? And would I ever find out?

“I’ll never think my apartment is nice again.” I was only half-joking.

He shrugged out of his jacket. “I like your apartment. It’s warm.”

I didn’t pursue it. When he held out his hand for my coat, I took it off and handed it to him. He stared at me.

“What?” Had I spilled something? Was my zipper open? Oh God, not the zipper.

He gave his head a shake. “Sorry. I’ve never seen you in jeans before.”

I glanced down. Just boot-cut jeans, nothing special. I liked them because they had spandex in them, so I could wear them a little snug without developing muffin meat above the waist.

“Nice blouse,” he commented, and pivoted on his heel to hang our coats on the iron stand by the door.

I smiled. I understood now, thick as I was. The blouse I was wearing was a dark wine cotton peasant blouse, gathered at the waist so it accented my figure. It also was a little low cut. I’m not lacking in the boob department, and the girls were standing high and firm in the bra I’d chosen. I have nice cleavage, if I do say so myself, and apparently Noah thought so, too.

“There’s something I have to do before I can talk to you,” he said as he walked back to me. I opened my mouth to ask what, but never had the chance to say a word. The something he had to do was kiss me—and very well I might add. His lips were soft and warm, not demanding or insistent. Still, my heart sped up at the taste of him. He took his time tasting me. It was a hot, lazy kiss that said, “We have all night to do whatever we want.”

When he finally pulled away, he planted a small kiss on the tip of my nose. “Had to do that.” He grinned. I grinned back.

He offered me a Corona, and I took it, then we went into his living room. I took my boots off despite his assurance that I didn’t have to. I had been raised to believe that it was rude to traipse through someone’s home with my shoes on.

We sat on his sofa—a chocolate brown, overstuffed, microfiber monstrosity that snuggled against every nook and cranny of my body. Bliss. He was on one end, and I was on the other, turned toward each other. Our knees touched, both of us having hiked our legs onto the cushions.

“You have a great place,” I told him.

“Thanks.” He looked down at the beer in his hand, before setting it aside. “Listen, about the other night…”

“Me too,” I blurted, interrupting what I was sure was going to be an apology.

He looked at me for a moment before nodding. “You came into my dream for a reason. What was it?”

It was like a black cloud settling over my head, the memory of the police at the clinic, telling me that Nancy Leiberman was gone.

“I wanted to tell you that I got the present Karatos sent. He killed one of my patients.”

Noah looked astounded. Or horrified—maybe both. “Shit.”

“That pretty much sums it up, yeah.”

He reached for his beer, sitting on a stone coaster on the coffee table. After a deep swallow from the bottle, Noah held the Corona in his lap and turned to me. “Why is this thing after us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a lucid dreamer. He would draw energy from you. I’m not sure what he wants from me—revenge against my father maybe.”

“How do we stop it?”

“I’m not sure.” But I would find out. I would.

“Great.” Slapping his thigh, he rose to his feet. He strode to one of the huge windows and looked out at the night and all its twinkling lights.

“Hey,” I began lamely. “At least you’re still alive.” That was more than Nancy Leiberman could say.

He shot me a scowl. “Oh thanks, Doc. I feel so much better.” His head shook. “I’m tired of being this thing’s cat toy.”

“I’m tired, too.” And I was. I was supposed to be able to destroy this thing, or at least give it a good ass-kicking, and I had no idea what to do. I just wanted my life back.

“What’s he done to you?” He was on the offensive now.

“It raped me.” I couldn’t stop the truth from pouring out, and I couldn’t call Karatos “he” like Noah could. I just couldn’t.

Noah went as still and quiet as an animal in headlights. “What?”

I had come this far, I might as well keep going. “In a dream. I couldn’t stop it.” I wasn’t going to admit how the thing had made my body like it. That was too personal and something I would rather forget.

There was anguish on Noah’s face as he came back to the couch. He set his beer on the table and sat closer to me this time. I didn’t try to stop him when he reached for me, instead I allowed him to pull me against his chest and wrap those deliciously strong arms around me.

“Oh God, Dawn.” I closed my eyes at the sound of my name on his lips. I hadn’t cried over what Karatos had done to me. In fact, other than anger, I was pretty numb about it, but Noah’s concern tightened my throat. And the little kisses he planted on my forehead made my eyes sting.

“You okay?” he murmured against my hair.

I nodded, my cheek rubbing against his shirt. This felt good. So very good. “Yeah.”

“I’d kill the bastard if I knew how.”

He was serious, and I was strangely touched. But I didn’t want to be treated like a victim, so I pulled free of his embrace. I sat up, but I didn’t move away. “Thanks.”

Noah didn’t seem bothered by my actions. He simply reached over and put his hand on my thigh. It was a comforting gesture rather than a sexual one. “How can he…It be doing this without your father knowing?”

“I don’t know.”

He eyed me for a moment. “Is there anybody other than your father who might know how to kill this thing?”

Antwoine. Why hadn’t I thought of him before this? “There’s an old man I can talk to. I’ll look for him tomorrow.”

He looked dubious—which for Noah was little more than a lift of a brow. “An old man can do what the God of Dreams can’t?”

I managed a half-assed smile. “I don’t imagine, but he seems to know a lot about The Dreaming, and he’s tricked my father himself. He might know how Karatos is managing to hide himself.”

“Good.”

Silence stretched between us for but a few seconds, until I asked the question I should have asked a long time ago—had I thought of it. “Noah, you pulled me into your dream at the center. How?”

“I don’t know. The Terror-thing was kicking my ass, and I remember thinking I didn’t want to die in front of you. The next thing I knew you were there.”