The Dream Crafter (22 page)

Here she broke, her eyes now leaving his, breaking the chains of energy that looped them even when the physical touch had disappeared. Her hands were nervous little birds, fluttering in her lap as the words jumbled themselves on her tongue.

He tangled her fingers with his, stilling them and getting her attention. His voice was teasing when he answered, “You mean stay with you both? I don’t know…you haven’t cooked for me yet. Isn’t that the real test for staying with someone, if they can cook?

She giggled at that, bringing her hand up in front of her mouth as she was want to do, and that crushed his heart inside him, made it hard to breathe. The laughing slowed, and her smile gentled. “How about we save the philosophical questions, and you kiss me good morning.”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward to wrap around her neck and bring her onto the bed with him. “That I can do.”

Her lips were cool, and he nibbled the top one to warm it up, bringing it in between his teeth for a gentle going over. She had the most delicious little mouth, a point of sweetness he could spend hours indulging himself in, and now, for this brief time between worries, he did.

Merc grabbed her by the waist and sat her on his lap, pulling her tight to him, so his arms enveloped her, so she was as close to him as their skin would allow. He wanted everything. He wanted her weight against him, he wanted the curves of her body to create matching hollows within his own.

And they did, because they fit, and whether it was because of magic or luck or destiny, it was as it had been the first night, where something in him recognized her, didn’t want to let her go, never wanted to be apart from her.

It was an awakening.
I know you!
it whispered.
I’ve been waiting. What took you so long?

He pushed his tongue out, pressing against the seam of her lips and asking entrance, an invitation she extended, opening and meeting his tongue with her own, wrapping around with gentle strokes as she brought him deeper, allowed him to explore her.

Her stomach grumbled, breaking them apart. She drew back, her eyes wide and horrified outside of what the situation warranted, and bubbles of laughter escaped him, even as he fought them back with no luck, until she was joining.

“Okay,” Merc said, pushing her to the bathroom. “I’ll deal with breakfast. You go get cleaned up.”

‡

T
he smell of
garlic and onions wafted through the cabin, and Amana’s stomach grumbled in response. She stepped out of the bathroom, running the towel over her still damp hair. “It smells delicious,” she called down, and Merc looked up at her words, a smile coming over his face.

“It’s only a hash and scrambled eggs, nothing fancy.”

“Doesn’t change that it smells delicious.” She tossed the towel in the hamper and came downstairs to Merc plating the food, setting two plates across from each other at the small counter. The first bite was worth a moan of contentment, and before she took the second, she said, “I’d never have thought this of you.”

“What?” he asked, taking his own bite of food. His eyebrows furrowed for half a second before he gave a small nod and continued eating.

“Cooking your own meals. If you asked me, I would have assumed you lived on takeout.”

“I was responsible for making my own meals while I was training, and it stuck with me. Beyond that–” and he seemed to reconsider what he was going to say, sticking a bite of food in his mouth instead of continuing.

Like she was going to let him off that easy. “Beyond that?” she prodded.

He gave her a look, but rolled his eyes and after he swallowed, said, “Beyond that, I have plenty of people who’d like to get rid of me. Cooking my own food reduces the chance of poisoning.”

Well, that wasn’t a depressing statement, but with it, a pleased curl of emotion rounded her center, because this made his earlier teasing of her cooking for him so much more than a mere play on women cooking. It was instead a statement of how much was changing. “Why are you a mercenary? You said your teacher didn’t force you into anything.”

“No, he didn’t, and in some ways that was the worst thing he could have chosen to do to me.” He stabbed at the food, picking up a mixture of eggs and sautéed vegetables. “With the tattoos, I’m marked in ways that can’t be hidden.”

“I noticed.”

That got a small smile out of him. “I wasn’t suited for an ordinary life, but I had no one I was trained to serve. I had to find my own way in the world. I fell in with a gang for awhile, but–” He paused, grabbing another bite of food.

He looked contemplative. Not quite ashamed, not quite comfortable, some mix of the two, plus an indefinable third emotion mixed in. “I can’t imagine you in a gang.”

“It wasn’t a good fit. It was only Shisen and I growing up, and he left me alone so much, I became used to keeping my own company. And outside Shisen, no one ever told me what to do.”

“So why didn’t you run the gang?” Amana could see it so easily, others jumping to do Merc’s bidding. He had such an aura of strength about him, it would be impossible for her to doubt anyone would follow wherever he led.

“Because I didn’t want the responsibility of leading either. It seemed best to be on my own. And after I decided that, Shisen sent someone who needed help to me. It wasn’t a conscious decision to become a mercenary, but I needed money and they needed my help, and it went from there.”

“Why did you take the job with the Spellbook? It doesn’t seem like your usual job.”

“No, it’s not.” He paused, shook his head. “I got impatient with a few things, plus the Guild ticked me off.”

“They do that a lot.”

“You can’t even imagine. I was thinking, maybe,” and here he became uncomfortable, squirming slightly. “Maybe Shisen can help you with your powers, if you wanted to try the whole mysterious master routine.”

As if she were back in the dream, the waves of power that radiated from the man poured over her, bathing her in an unfamiliar feeling of both wanting to get away from the man, and wanting to go nearer to him, to let him help her. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“Yeah?” Merc’s eyes lit up for a split second, before he tamped down the excitement, taking a sip of water. “Well, if you do decide to meet him, I’ll make it happen. I can’t guarantee anything, but I do believe he would be very interested in meeting you.”

Joy bubbled in Amana at his desire to connect them even further. Their story hadn’t been an easy one so far and wouldn’t be for a while longer, but maybe this meant they
would
have a story, that they could weather together the upcoming trials and stand together through them all.

Until time proved otherwise, she’d hold that hope to her.

‡

M
erc was right
, the whole
mysterious master
routine got old fast.

Sadly, in that one area, the Seven Houses surpassed even the Guild. They made keeping their underlings guessing and waiting into an art form. Right now, Nemesis waited in a long hallway of pure white walls and a thirty-foot ceiling. In front of her, guarded by two giants, were black floor-to-ceiling double doors, which at that moment were beginning to open.

The guards moved to the side, and Fallon walked out, clothed in her usual black, with Tenro’s hilt a beacon from atop her right shoulder. As their eyes met, Fallon broke out into a smile. “Didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“I’m popular.” Fallon seemed too happy for someone summoned in front of the council, which meant Nemesis’ upcoming meeting would be anything but.

“They know they have a good thing with you.” Fallon walked until she stood only a few inches away, driving out all the oxygen before her and making it hard to breathe. “The Guild could be good to you to, should you ever want a change of scenery.”

The offer was made as it always was, with a half-smile that said Fallon didn’t believe she would accept, but a sharp look that said Fallon would grab her up and transport her away in a moment if she did.

Nemesis pushed her hands into her pants pocket, feigning easy confidence. “I think you keep asking because you want me to be your lackey.”

“We’re all Kyo’s lackeys in the end. No other chain-of-command order really matters.” Fallon stood war-ready, a fierce and terrible foe even here in the halls of an ally, and it seemed impossible Merc had gotten over her enough that he’d been able to get away with the girl.

Let the day never come that the Seven Houses break with the Guild…

Shunting the thought to the side, Nemesis brought out her best smile, the one used to calm skittish prisoners and the unsure and involuntary guests she sometimes collected in her duties. “I think I’ll stick with what I know for now. If the mind changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Offers always open. To you and Merc.”

And now, the denouement. The underlying reason Fallon approached her at all. “Merc isn’t a fan of the Guild. Betrayal tends to have that effect on people.”

Fallon shrugged, Tenro’s hilt lifting with the movement. “He’s entitled to his feelings, but I never took much stock in people who complain about the rules of the game, after they’ve been playing and winning for so long.”

“That’s fair.” Nemesis nodded, all easy graciousness and acceptance. “Which also means you can’t be upset with them, when they turn the game on you. Winning is all that matters, is it not?”

That
something
that lived behind Fallon’s eyes flashed, flickered, had Nemesis’s training kicking in to reach for her weapon, but before the action completed, the look was gone, and Fallon’s good-humor kicked back in, a too-pretty smile for a warrior splashing across her face. “You gonna tell me where he is?”

“Not a chance, darlin’. I don’t know, let me be clear on that, but even should I find out, it won’t happen.”

“Didn’t think it would.” Fallon moved around her, tossing over her shoulder, “Next Friday, Laire’s hosting cards at her place. She told me to tell you to come, and I’m telling you I won’t let her turn it into a strip poker match.”

Then Fallon was gone, and blessed air returned to the area. Nemesis brought in a few lungfuls before the guard’s urging had her walking through those double doors on her own.

The room she entered was lit to about four feet in, with the rest embanked in darkness. At the edge of the lit area was a half-circle railing, and it was to here that Nemesis came, putting her hands on the railing as she waited.

She didn’t wait long. Seven squares of light – similar to television screens – appeared in front of her, in each one a shadowed profile, some of which were more human looking than others.

From the middle one the shadow cleared way to reveal a human woman. She appeared to be only in her forties though her hair was a natural, gorgeous silvery-gray, short and spiky and framing a pixie-ish face. She had clear blue eyes and a mouth that always verged on smiling, even when those blue eyes were not. Today was a day those eyes were not.

Though Nemesis didn’t know her name, this was the only member of the Houses she’d ever seen. Good authority had told her Kyo was another member, though she could not verify that, and all other members were unknown to her, though it was her job to follow their edicts.

Yep, the mysterious thing had definite drawbacks.

“Reign’s followers are causing problems,” the woman began without any form of small talk or introductory remarks.

Nemesis leaned against the railing, all ease and innocence. Just because she knew where this was leading didn’t mean she was going to make it easy. “Reign would be the first to tell you he doesn’t have followers, and whatever people might do because he said something is none of his concern.”

The woman gave a small snort, amusement lighting those eyes as well as that mouth now. “No doubt, but this situation is now beyond a Guild matter. The chaos it’s leaving in its wake needs to be contained.”

“Fallon may have been helping in that area.” Not that drawing attention to Fallon’s sins ever stopped anything from happening after the woman instigated it, but it seemed right to remind everyone just the same.