Silvia Day (17 page)

His smile was sweet, but his eyes were sad. “I have no idea. But we can dream.”

Picking her up, he carried her to the couch. JB caught a
clue, for once, and leaped from the sofa arm to pad off to a quieter venue. Aidan laid her down carefully, sinking to his knees beside her, his beautiful eyes dark with lust and love. His large hand slid up her inner thigh.

“I can’t conceive, Aidan. I take medicine to prevent it.”

“In my dreams, you don’t.” He kissed her knee and then came over her, spreading her thighs, lavishing the attentions of his tongue across her clit until she writhed, before moving higher.

She leaned up on her elbows, watching, shrugging out of her white terry cloth robe one arm at a time. Eager to feel his warm skin next to hers.

“In my dream, this is our home,” he said softly, his gaze moving across her like a tactile caress. “We wake up early every morning so we have time to make love. Slowly. My body covering yours, pushing deep inside yours, as if we have all the time in the world. We part reluctantly, kissing each other good-bye before leaving for work. We think about each other all day, and wait impatiently to be together again at night.”

He licked across first one nipple and then the other, his hands shoving down his waistband. “We take vacations to private beaches where I watch you play in the surf, laughing, your skin a golden tan. I strip you there on a blanket. Push your suit aside and sink my cock into you. Ride you until you can’t take any more. Then I carry you inside and take you again. We share meals together, trials together, life together.”

Lyssa’s head fell back into the soft cushions as his fingers went to her pussy and slipped inside her. “Aidan…” She closed her eyes to fight the tears, but they escaped
anyway, sliding down her temples and wetting her hair.

“Every day you say my name just like that. Soft and breathless with desire. And every time I hear it, I love you more. I think of how lucky I am to have you. How well you take care of me, always fussing after me. I soak up every moment of it, because I need you.” His voice lowered and grew husky. “So much.”

“Yes.” Her fingers slipped through his hair as he levered his body over hers, his pendant dangling and glowing between them, his lean hips sinking between her spread legs. The wide, flared head of his cock teased the slick opening to her cunt, making her arch to take more of him. “I need you, too.”

“And one day, we decide it’s time to have a baby.” His hands cupped her shoulders, holding her in place as he eased his cock into her, filling her full with the heated, throbbing length of him.

“Oh god,” she breathed, her head thrashing as he didn’t move, merely kept her pinned to the couch with every inch of his body. He’d left his pajama bottoms on the floor when he joined her, and the coarse hair on his calves and thighs tickled her delicate skin. She felt the weight of his heavy balls resting against her buttocks, and the tears fell faster.

“I take you like this.” He withdrew, the broad head massaging her. He pushed back inside, forcing his way into her greedy, clenching depths. “I fuck you as often as I can. I meet you for lunch and take you in your office. I keep you drenched, soaked with my cum, ready for the moment when you’re fertile.”

She whimpered as she tightened helplessly around his pumping cock.

“That’s it,” he purred, his accent thick and sexy as hell. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“I love it,” she gasped, writhing under a perfect deep stroke. Beneath her calves, she felt his buttocks clench and release as he fucked her slow and easy, swiveling his hips, rocking into her.

Drugged by the pleasure, Lyssa gave herself up to his expertise, her head falling to the side, her hands stroking his back in time with his leisurely, unhurried rhythm. She set her heels on the couch and pushed up, opening herself further so he could drive deeper. Shafting her pussy in long, heavy drives.

The sun continued its steady ascent, the rays of light slanting through the window and warming her skin. She breathed in a shuddering breath, willing to give up everything she had for endless mornings just like this one. He took her as if they had all the time in the world, as if they could do this forever.

Arching his back, Aidan pressed his cock into her deepest point. She came with a silent cry, her cunt rippling along his throbbing flesh, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

“Sweet Lyssa,” he breathed, moving his cock in gentle nudges, making her climax roll through her in waves. “Just like this. This is how we make our child.” He thrust hard and groaned as he joined her.

She felt the warm release of his cum as it flowed deep into her, the hard jerking of his cock making her moan with pleasure. And heartache.

Aching with the force of his orgasm, Aidan pressed his lips to Lyssa’s, his mouth hard and his teeth clenched tight
as he surrendered to his need for her. He gasped when it was over, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his embrace almost crushing. She sobbed quietly beneath him. He turned his head and pressed his damp cheek to hers, wondering how he would live the rest of his immortal life without her. She would grow old and die, as all mortals did. How would he bear it?

He wanted that dream he’d shared; he longed for it with every fiber of his being. His heart grieved for the loss of the future he wanted but could never have.

But what he’d deciphered in the ancient text that morning left him no choice.

He was going to have to return to the Twilight.

And this was the last time he would ever make love to Lyssa.

Aidan rolled to his side, taking Lyssa with him. On the narrow space of the couch, they were locked tightly together to keep from tumbling to the floor. His cock still throbbed inside her. Her pussy still milked him gently. He took a deep breath and tucked her closer, struggling to find the strength to leave her.

“Aidan.” Lyssa’s exhale gusted warmly over his sweat-dampened skin. It shifted through him, moving from his heart to his toes in a tingling ripple of pleasure.

“Mmm?” he murmured, caressing the soft skin of her back. He would never get enough of touching her, holding her, making love to her. The knowledge killed something inside him, that warm spot of hope and peace she’d given him.

“There has to be a way for you to stay.”

The lump in his throat was painful to swallow past. He didn’t know what to do with this surfeit of emotion. He’d been numb with loneliness for so long, nearly dead inside,
caring only for the men under his command. He had respected every woman he’d taken to bed, but the name they spoke was not his. He was “Cross” or “Captain,” and the distance between them was vast, even if their bodies were as close as they could be.

“I want to take care of you,” Lyssa whispered, her fingers moving through his hair. “I want to make you laugh, make you happy.”

“You do.” His voice was rough, scratchy like sandpaper.

“I don’t want to stop doing those things. You need someone to take care of you.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What a pair we are. You need looking after, too, Hot Stuff. You and I spend so much time taking care of everyone else, we neglect ourselves. You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted just for me. Selfishly.”

What he wouldn’t give to spend his life with her, grow old with her, die beside her. Far better for life to be short and sweet, than eternal and empty. But the most he could do for her was ensure her the longest life possible. So she could marry. Have children and grandchildren.
Another man’s
children and grandchildren.

The images in his mind were like a knife thrust deep in his heart. Turning, gouging, killing him slowly and without mercy. He crushed her to him, but she didn’t complain.

“Can we stay here like this forever?” she asked with a mournful sigh.

He took a moment to control his voice and then spoke as lightly as he could manage. “I think the bed would be more comfortable.”

She gave a quiet laugh. It wasn’t the full-bodied merri
ment he loved, but it was much better for his sanity than her grieved tone.

“How about a shower?” he suggested.

“Together?”

“I would love to, but I should clean up the dining room and get breakfast started.”

She leaned back enough to look up at him with those big, dark eyes, and he cupped her shoulder blades to keep her from falling. The silent trust she had that he would support her made his smile genuine. Yes, she’d had her doubts about him, but despite them, she had always gone with her instincts, and they’d always ruled in his favor.

“What are you planning to make up for breakfast?”

She’d laughed until she cried when he came upstairs at three
A.M
. bearing a plate of Chips Ahoy! cookies with gobs of peanut butter smeared on the tops. “What?” he’d asked, grinning. “Peanut butter has protein.”

That reply had her falling over with mirth, her lithe body rolling amid the tangled blue sheets. He’d set the plate down on the nightstand and joined her, eventually sitting back against the headboard and pulling her into his lap. She had straddled his thighs while facing him, his cock hard and throbbing inside her. They’d smeared peanut butter on each other’s lips and licked it off, making love with cookies and laughter.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll figure out something.”

“Okay. I trust you.” Her low, fervent tone touched him as few things ever had. With all that he’d told her yesterday, her belief in him said so much.

They separated reluctantly and rose from the sofa. Once
they were standing, Aidan pulled his pendant over his head, tugged her closer, and slipped it around her neck. It settled between her breasts and glowed with an inner fire, an anomaly he’d assumed was attributed to either the journey here or a reaction to this world. It had never crossed his mind that the stone might be reacting to Lyssa.

He pressed his palm over both it and her heart.

“I can’t take this,” she breathed, setting her hand over his. “It’s precious to you.”

He shook his head. “
You
are precious to me. Promise me you’ll always wear it. I’ve never removed it. I shower with it, bathe with it. There’s no reason for you to take it off. It can’t be damaged, and it won’t tarnish like Earth metals do. I need to know that this will never lose contact with your skin.”

“Aidan?” Her dark eyes were wary and capped with a frown.

“Just promise me. For my peace of mind.”

“Of course.” She lifted the stone to her lips and kissed it, then rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I will treasure it always. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” He held her tightly to him, his lips pressed hard to her forehead. Inhaling deeply, he tried to imprint the smell and feel of her into his memory so that he would never forget it.

“We’ll find a way to be together, Aidan.” Her small hands stroked down his back. “I refuse to think that it can’t be done.”

Aidan knew she felt that way. She survived because she refused to give up hope. That was why he couldn’t tell her anything until after he was gone. She would try to stop
him from going if she knew he wasn’t coming back.

“Get ready to eat,” he said, stepping back and releasing her, keeping the careless smile on his face by sheer will-power alone.

Their fingers stayed laced together until the last possible moment, then she took the stairs, and he went to the dining room. Aidan arranged the books in such a way that his purpose and motivations were clear. He couldn’t let her think he’d left or was taken. He needed her to know why he was leaving, so that she could live with it. Accept it. Move past it.

She wouldn’t notice anything amiss at first, but later, when she looked closely, she would understand.

He saved the note for last, pulling out a chair and taking a deep breath before writing his good-bye.

He couldn’t do it face to face. It would be far too painful. Folding the paper, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it, then set it above the open pages of the book he’d stolen from Sheron.

The second book, the jeweled one with the references to Stonehenge and star alignment, seemed to have little or no relationship to the one the Elders kept hidden. If there were answers to be found in that, he couldn’t find them. It appeared to present more problems than solutions, like a puzzle that became more complicated the further into it he got.

Without conscious thought, his fingertips drifted over the text he’d translated.

“Beware of the Key that turns the Lock and reveals the Truth.”

The words struck him hard, each one an individual blow.
He sat unmoving, his breath whistling in and out between clenched teeth.

The Key wasn’t going to open the Gateway to the Nightmares. The Key was going to reveal something the Elders didn’t want revealed. That was why they were hunting for it. That was why they wanted it destroyed.

But why the Key was a Dreamer and why the traits attributed to it were so important, he didn’t know. And the pendant…

His eyes closed on a shudder. There, in the ancient text, he’d found a drawing of the pendant Sheron had given him so long ago. A relic of the old world. A part of the prophecy the Elders had never shared with anyone. The stone would protect her, the glowing reaction it had to her proximity enhancing her abilities in the Twilight. She’d been able to create the door without it. With it, he imagined she would be able to keep Guardians and Nightmares away from the portal altogether. She would finally be safe in dreams.

When he’d first translated that section of the text, he’d been confused as to why something so dangerous would be given to him, a man who was sent out nightly to interact with Dreamers who might be the Key. Why wouldn’t it be locked away?

Then he’d read further.

The Key. The Lock. The Guardian.

Lyssa was the Key, as evidenced by the reaction of the stone, which was the Lock. He could only assume that he was the Guardian. And the result of the combination of the three?

“The end of the Universe as we now know it.”

Further translation was sketchy. Many of the words used
were unfamiliar to him. But some things were clear. Rupture. Annihilation. To say it didn’t sound good would be a huge understatement.

He had to return to the Twilight for answers, and he had to stay away from Lyssa.

Fissure creation wasn’t the direction he needed to be looking. He needed to know what it was about Lyssa’s ability to see into the Twilight and control dreams that made the Elders so fearful. Why wouldn’t a curious Guardian, like him, be an equal threat? And the stone. What was it? What was its purpose? Why had it been given to him?

And what did this all mean? Were the Elders malevolent or benevolent? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t help thinking that if their cause was just, they would have shared it freely with the Guardians. They’d lied about so much. They said the trip to this world was one-way, but parts of his translation led him to believe otherwise. Why would they hide the ability to travel freely between the conduit and this plane? It was only one of countless unanswered questions.

But, if he was wrong about the round-trip travel, it was possible he could wake again in this world. Aidan’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t allow that to happen if his presence here jeopardized Lyssa. He would have to prevent it. By whatever means necessary.

The water in the shower upstairs turned off, galvanizing him into action. Aidan washed quickly in the downstairs bathroom, then moved to the kitchen, steeling himself inwardly for the parting that was rapidly approaching.

Hearing the low, warbling birdcall that said it was safe to proceed, Connor set his jaw grimly and entered the Temple of the Elders. Using comms wasn’t possible in a situation like this, where their transmissions would be picked up and used against them later. By necessity, this was a stripped-down mission. His favorite kind.

Philip had taken out the guard at the entryway with a blow dart dipped in tranquilizer. Then he’d retrieved it from the unfortunate man’s neck so that no evidence was left behind. The guard would awaken with only the vague sensation of having dozed, perhaps in boredom. Connor would do the same to the lone sentinel in the control room. They hoped their careful planning would prevent them from being both seen and remembered. If they could manage to get some answers and then retreat without being detected, he would consider the engagement a resounding success.

Keeping this objective in mind, Connor moved within the shadows, his senses alert, his steps deliberately planned and timed to avoid being recorded. He entered the middle hallway that led away from the
haiden
. The hall to the left branched off toward the living quarters of the Elders. The hall to the right led to a secluded, open-air meditation courtyard.

So far, so good.

As he walked, a vibration beneath his feet drew Connor’s attention to the floor. The stone shimmered and became translucent, frightening him for a moment into thinking the ground had completely disappeared and he was about to fall into the endless blanket of stars revealed. He groped for the wall in an instinctive gambit to save himself, then
the view of space melted into a swirling kaleidoscope of colors.

“Fuck me,” he breathed.

Arrested by the display, Connor stared agape, wondering if what he was watching was real or a projection of some sort.

Then, knowing time was short, he forced himself to ignore the vertigo caused by the floor and continued on. With each step, ripples of writhing colors spread outward, as if he were walking in a body of shallow rainbow water. Up ahead, he spied an arched entryway and stealthily pressed his back to the wall directly next to it. He glanced inside and saw one Elder bent over a lighted console.

Connor withdrew the dagger at his thigh and held it away from him, angling the shiny blade to catch the reflection of his industriously working target. He would have one shot at this. If he missed, he would give away his position and intent, and set himself up for severe disciplinary action.

So he pulled out his blowgun with his other hand and waited patiently, ignoring the drops of sweat that slid down his temple. When the Elder finally turned away to remove a book from the wall of volumes behind him, Connor filled the doorway, taking the space of a heartbeat to aim before sending the tiny dart flying across the not inconsiderable distance between himself and the Elder.

He then returned to his spot, his gaze on the wildly swirling floor, waiting until he heard the thud of the unconscious Elder falling.

Before he entered the room, Connor whistled, telling Philip that he’d succeeded and to start the clock ticking. The tranquilizer would not hold for long.

“Tell me all your secrets,” he murmured, setting his blade next to him on the control panel. Before him lay a semicircular panel of lighted buttons. Above that, embedded in a raised lip, were a dozen small vid screens, each one displaying a view of various Guardians engaged in their assignments. He stared at the display, his mind faltering at the realization of what exactly he was looking at.

All this time, the Guardians had assumed their moments spent in a Dreamer’s stream of unconsciousness were private. They were not.

Which means they would have known of the captain’s suspicions about the Dreamer. They would have seen the growing attachment between the two. Perhaps they had even fostered it by sending him back to her. They had allowed the relationship to progress because they were aware, not because they were ignorant.

Intrigued and horrified by the thought, Connor set to work, running through the archives with nimble keystrokes, trying to prove or disprove his guess. A quick glance toward the doorway showed him that the hallway floor had resumed its appearance of marble now that he no longer stood upon it. Too many oddities in a world he once thought he understood completely.