Fifteen

After Stephanie’s departure, Quinn didn’t return. Zaire waited all of five minutes before hunting her down, and only when he found her outside, sitting so small and alone on the swing hanging from a giant oak tree, did the rising storm inside him calm.

He joined her on the double swing, the chains creaking a protest. Their uneven weight unbalanced the swing and sent her sliding tight to his side, where she belonged, if his world was a different one. But he didn’t move, and neither did she.

“I apologize for causing any strife between you and your friend, Quinn.” He wasn’t sorry for distrusting Stephanie, for protecting Quinn in whatever manner he saw fit, only that it distressed his dreamcaster.

“Like I didn’t see that one coming.” She snorted, and her breath misted in the cold air. “But that’s not what I was thinking about at all. I was pondering the fact that there’s actually a name for what I am; like I’m my own sort of species, and maybe that might freak some people out, but I’ve been waiting my whole life to fit into a particular niche.” She grimaced and stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. “You can say it. I know I’m weird.”

“That word has never crossed my mind with you.”

She didn’t smile, and that made his guts twist uncomfortably. “The bad part is,” she continued, gazing up at the night sky, “it’s not helpful. At all. I thought knowing what I am would be enlightening, that I’d finally figure out what I’m supposed to do, who I’m supposed to be, where I belong. Instead, I’m just…here. In the same useless boat.”

Seeing her so alone, battling her anguish, he wanted to tell her. That she belonged with him. How he’d waited and waited for only her. That, once, they were each the cure to the other’s disease. How he’d pay anything, anything to belong to her, too.

A lead ball dropped in Zaire’s stomach, heavy and inescapable as the truth. He was nothing but poison, and she was in no need of a remedy. Staying with her, being together, would only end in tragedy. His doom was sealed, and he’d die before allowing her to meet the same fate.

As he breathed in her apple scent, something deep within him curled in on itself, wilting. She deserved to live a long life discovering the purpose she sought and sharing it with the world. He had only one gift to give her: teach her how to survive once he was gone.

He fought to keep his voice even, free of the loss he felt pounding in his bones. “You were kind to me when you had no cause to be, and in return, I brought danger to your doorstep.”

She shook her head. “Zaire—”

He put his hand over her mouth before she said something that would derail his plans, as she was wont to do. “Since it was me who disrupted your life and forced you to face who and what you are, I must prepare you as much as possible for the dangers you’ll encounter.”

Her eyes smiled up at him, and she peeled his hand away from her mouth and twined her small fingers with his, a trap he had no desire to escape. “I wish you could meet Isaac’s girlfriend, Molly.”

“For what purpose?” The subject change ignited all his suspicions.

“So you’d witness firsthand the damage a determined woman can do when it comes to the man she wants.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, so easily, so trustingly, and an unwanted tenderness unfurled in his soul. He bore the torment in silence. “It would save us both a lot of time and effort. One glance at Molly, and you’d give up leaving me behind.”

His black heart ached. “If I was anyone else,” he murmured, “no man, no spirit, no force on Earth could persuade me to leave you. Never doubt that.”

“If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t want you to stay.” Her voice was just as soft. “And once we get Braden, you won’t have that excuse.”

Damnation. He should have held his silence. She seemed to read the truth in his words, even when he tried to hide it.

“No need to scowl. We can work it out later.” Quinn twisted and faced him in the swing. “And I’m definitely interested in learning everything and anything you can teach me. How do you know so much about dreamcasters?”

“It’s all illicitly gained information, I assure you.”

Her dark eyes glittered. “Ooh, all the better.”

His humor faded. He hated dumping her heritage on her and then leaving her to her own devices. Then again, she had survived remarkably well without him so far. Dealing with years of nightmares alone was enough to drive most people crazy. On a whim, he brushed his thumb beneath her eye, tracing the dark half-moon that had been there since he met her, had probably been there all her life. Other than that small sign of disturbance, she was the happiest person he’d ever met. No matter what she said, she’d be fine without him.

Quinn leaned into his hand, and that ache sank deep into his gut, a permanent wound.

“It would be easier to teach you in the dream.” He ignored the huskiness in his voice.

Her eyebrows shot up, and she bit her lip, which did nothing to hide her smirk. “Are you sure about that? Last time, I stabbed you.”

He rubbed his chest at the phantom pain where her cross had impaled him. “Perhaps you’re right. Teaching you anything more might make the world a deadlier place.”

“No reneging now.” She leaped from the swing, sending him swaying gently. “Hurry up,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ve got things to kill and skills to learn.”

He smiled at her back. How could he not? She made everything seem exciting and new, even when it was dark and would end in sorrow. He grabbed his crutch and limped after her, his entire leg tingling, a sign that the end was near. But until then, he’d enjoy the stolen hours with the dreamcaster he could never have.

***

Quinn opened her eyes to white sand beneath a black light moon, and a thrill rolled through her. She smiled up at the velvet sky set with its crystal stars, silver bits that hadn’t been there until Zaire. Of all her nightmares, this location was by far her favorite. She’d only dreamed it since meeting Zaire, and when he showed up last time, it was impossible not to connect the two. As usual, she wore her leather pants, the fabric soft and supple enough to move fast and kick high. The corset kept things tucked tighter than a sports bra, and her boots would make any door-busting cop jealous.

The cross with its chain around her wrist, however, wasn’t the same. The one Zaire had brought back into reality, the one she used for years, was silver-toned. Iron. The one with her now was the deepest black, and it gleamed like obsidian in the moonlight.

Like Zaire’s eyes.

“Dreamcaster.” Zaire’s musical voice curled down her back in a warm glide, and she forgot all about her new weapon.

Slowly, she faced him, and her mouth went dry as everything else dampened. He was male perfection, even with the nightmare eyes. He wore the shimmering, scaly pants and shirt like before, and had black knives strapped to every appendage, across his chest, on each powerful forearm, thigh, and calf. But the daggers had nothing on the wicked sword anchored at his hip. Even his boots beat hers, so dark and dull they seemed to gather the shadows.

“Come here often?” She lazily twirled her cross chain.

He stepped closer, looming over her. “Not often enough.”

She craned her neck to hold his gaze. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but you’re not even a little bit scary.”

“That’s your misinterpretation, not mine.”

“Arrogant much?”

“Truth isn’t the same as arrogance.” His lips curled into a sinful smile.

She couldn’t rip her gaze from his mouth, and breathing became a chore. “Why don’t you do that more often?”

The smile faded. “Do what?”

“That.” She pushed both corners of his mouth up with her fingers, which only made him look demented. Laughing, she dropped her hands, leaving him free to make his own expressions. “It looks better when you do it.”

His mouth tightened, not in an unhappy way, but like he wanted to smile and resisted. “We have limited time to teach you everything I know. Don’t waste it, Quinn.”

“Laughing and smiling are never a waste.” She mock-sighed. “But since you insist on being grouchy and you’re doing this for me free of charge, I’ll limit the rainbows and butterflies.”

“Excellent choice,” he said dryly.

Shadows circled his ankles like happy cats, and she pointed at them. “How do you get them to do that?”

He looked down, and his expression blanked. “My V’alkara affinity includes darkness.” He lifted his hand, and the tendrils curled around his wrist. “Shadows obey me.”

“Get. Out.”

He cocked his head, his eyes swirling like the gloom around his ankles. “You wish for me to leave your dream?”

She covered her mouth to hide a snicker. The last thing she wanted to do was insult him. “It’s just an expression of awe. I’d never ask you to get out of my dream—or anyplace else.”

The darkness in his eyes deepened, and for a moment, he stared at her like she was the only creature in the universe and he wanted her all to himself.

Tingles swarmed her. A girl could dream.

“It’s clear you’ve had much practice controlling the environment of your dreams,” he said at last, his voice a little rough. “What you must learn to control is what enters your nightmares.”

“I control them just fine.” She twirled the chain and her cross on one finger, hip cocked. “Death by jewelry. And when that fails, creativity.”

“Very well, you can hold your own against demons.” Zaire twirled his sword in a mocking imitation of her cross. “What about a V’alkara?”

“That’s not fair. You guys can jump into my brain, which I have zero defense against.”

A strange, almost winsome expression swept over his face and then vanished like lightning. “I’m not speaking of the physical world, but here, in your nightmare. It’s all about controlling your fear under any circumstance. Control that, and you can turn that influence on a V’alkara.”

She almost told him that he was the only V’alkara she had ever dreamed about and he was always welcome in her nightmares or reality, but they’d trotted over that bridge, and he’d set it on fire once already today. Her rejection quota was thoroughly filled.

“Actually, as I recall, I had zero problems banishing you, either.” She gave him a sweet smile. “You had your sword then, too—”

Quinn ducked a moment before his wicked blade sliced the air where her head had just been. She spun and gaped at him. “Was that really necessary?”

“If another V’alkara manages to slip through your adder stone defenses as I can,” he said, jabbing at her heart and grasping for her hair—and missing, barely—as she tucked and rolled, “he will do everything in his power to enslave you. Once he rules your dreams, he rules you.”

Quinn jumped to her feet and flung her cross at his heart. This time, it missed its mark by an inch.

The cruel, ancient smile made Zaire’s harsh face even more sinister. “I learn from my mistakes.”

“And the only person who rules my dream is me.” With a flick of her wrist, the sand beneath Zaire’s boots dropped out from under him. He disappeared beneath the surface without a sound.

As the emptiness and silence stretched, she crouched and scooped up a handful of sand. She’d staked him in the heart before and he’d survived fine. Maybe she shouldn’t have drowned him in sand, but the only thing she ever had any control over was her dreams. Letting him take that wasn’t happening.

She spread her fingers, and the sand slid free, silken. It had taken her years of fighting and learning, conquering her fear and dying to get to this point, and she’d done it alone because Zaire had left her no choice. Unexpected tears burned her eyes. Why couldn’t he see that together they could face any war—and win? She was so tired of battling on her own.

Strong arms suddenly grabbed her from behind, wrapping her in an unbreakable hold and pulling her tightly against a wall of muscle and steel. The intoxicating scent of snow and storm surrounded her. Zaire’s breath brushed her ear. “Never drop your guard.”

Quinn relaxed into him with a smile. “I believe you’re mistaken, sunshine. I never let down my guard, and if you’re going to be grabbing me, don’t expect me to try to escape.”

He made a frustrated noise. “How am I to teach you if you don’t wish to learn?”

“I’ve fought a horde of demons all at once, and I’m not telling you that to brag.” She shifted in his arms, and he loosened his hold a bit, allowing her to face him. “Things in the dreams, as dark as they are, aren’t what bothers me. If a V’alkara is dumb enough to challenge me here, then he’s the one who needs to worry.”

His black eyebrows tented and he released her.

“It’s the daytime that causes me trouble.” She huffed, stirring some curls near her mouth. “I have episodes.” The lump in her throat made it hard to talk. Only Isaac and Stephanie knew about her delusions, and when she mentioned it casually before, Zaire had dismissed it. If he realized she was broken, he’d use it as another excuse to ditch her.

“Episodes?” he prodded, keeping his considerable focus on her. Withholding the information from him was useless.

“No one in my family has ever mentioned that my nightmares leak while I sleep.” She dug her toe into the sand, avoiding his burning gaze. “They show up in the day, and only I can see them. At first, I could ignore them, but they’re so strong now, I can’t tell them apart from reality anymore. Acting normally when they start isn’t possible.” She dared a look beneath her eyelashes. Zaire still stared at her, his eyes narrowed. “Ever heard of something like that from other dreamcasters?”

He shook his head once and stabbed his sword into the sand, leaning on the pommel. Still staring.

Well, that wasn’t helpful. “So I’m an abnormal anomaly. Great.” She shook off the disappointment and switched subjects. “How many other dreamcaster’s dreams have you invaded?”

All expression bled from his face, leaving it empty. “Be very, very certain you wish to know the answer before inquiring about my past.”

As if that would kill her curiosity. “How many?”

“Four.” He held her gaze, a challenge, a dare. “I destroyed the minds of four dreamcasters, and those were all without my master’s knowledge.”

She sucked in a breath. Destroyed?

“V’alkara are male; dreamcasters female. When the V’alkara capture a dreamcaster,” he said in a soft, soothing voice, which did nothing to calm her chills, “it is for the main purpose of harvesting her nightmares.” He leaned on his sword as though their conversation was idle, not disturbing. “White would only allow us slivers of the dreamcaster’s nightmares, of course. He didn’t want to share too much of the power. So I hunted them on my own and took what I needed.”

Merde. “If you had found me then…” Quinn licked her dry lips, needing to know. He had never hurt her when he was a boy, but abuse and cruelty could change anyone. Most monsters were created by other monsters. “If you had found me then, would you have destroyed me, too?”

“No, Quinn.” Ebony flames danced in his eyes. “I would have made you mine.”