CHAPTER 11

 

 

 

Morgan caught Karsia in his arms and watched as tree trunks returned to nothing among the ruined sidewalk. God, the street was a mess. It would take the city weeks to clean it if he chose not to act. He glanced down at the woman he held and shrugged. She was his problem. Not the city. It was beyond his capabilities and would have to be erased by someone with a different set of magic skills. There were those in the vicinity who would see to it—with a little convincing.

She weighed nothing, light as a feather. How could someone that skinny cause so much trouble?

He took her in, lines carved into her face that had not been there before. Even in sleep, trouble lay heavy on her.

“You’re going to be fine. Trust me,” he told her softly, shifting his shoulders until she rested easier. “It’s time for me to take control. You’ve run amok for too long. Nothing to see here, folks,” he stated for the crowd to hear.

The horrified masses scurried away from them. Not a scratch on most of them, Morgan was pleased to see. However Karsia had managed it, she’d kept the worst of her power centered on the street instead of the people. Kudos for that, at least.

“Absolutely nothing to see. Move along.”

It took him by surprise when a hand grabbed his shoulder. The arm attached to the hand whirled him around until the fellow filled his vision, a tall man with massive shoulders and close-cropped blond hair. Morgan was not upset when Karsia’s foot smacked into the man’s midsection.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Orestes asked, his saccharine voice as sweet as a lie.

“Excuse me?”

“I asked what you’re doing. She’s not going anywhere with you. The little bitch is coming back to the Claddium to pay for what she’s done. She’ll spend the rest of her life in the Vault, thanks to this little display.”

“I would think it obvious what I’m doing, sir.” Morgan shifted to adjust his glasses and quirked a brow. “I’m leaving and I’m taking Karsia with me.”

“You will kindly release the girl to our keeping and come with us for questioning. Sir.” Cold blue eyes stared at Morgan through a face like an immovable mountain. And about as far from trustworthy as a person could look. He shifted his voice until it was the perfect tenor of reason. Like they’d been friends for countless years. “I do not advise leaving. It’s not in your best interest.”

Yeah right, no way in hell would Morgan do anything of the sort. Everything about the stranger rubbed him raw and he’d made it a study to learn from first impressions. Whoever said to look beyond the cover of a book had not been raised with gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus.

“I’m sorry. Who might you be?”

“Who I am is not important. Your little girlfriend here destroyed half a city block and threatened the safety of everyone in a half-mile radius, and you’ve put yourself in a bad position.” Orestes scowled. “It is well within my right as a Claddium representative to exterminate both her and you where you stand. It is only by the grace of my generosity that we are having this conversation.”

“Your generosity could use a little bit of work.” Morgan stopped and stared the man up and down, from the tips of his handmade Italian leather loafers to the permanent scowl etched on his brow. This was a person obviously accustomed to using his power. For what, he could not say.

“And I’ll correct you on one important matter. She’s not my girlfriend, although the idea has crossed my mind.” Standing straight, the two were evenly matched in height, though Morgan may have an extra inch or two if it came down to specifics. If it came down to a brawl, he was certain to win. Especially if he shifted his form fast enough.

Clearing his throat, Morgan continued. “And since you haven’t given me the courtesy of answering my question, I’m not particularly inclined to do a damn thing you say. Death threat or not.”

Orestes’s eyes narrowed to small points. “Let me repeat. It is in your best interest…sir…to do as I say.”

“And it’s in your best interest, you malodorous abomination, to leave me alone.” Morgan had drawn on his deep well of history and literature for an interesting, albeit antiquated, insult that was sure to leave the man reeling. It disappointed him when the words rolled over his adversary with no visible reaction.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go anywhere,” Orestes Voltaire countered. He folded his arms across his chest and drew himself up to full height.

Morgan scoffed. “You know, I’ve only been in Chicago for a grand total of five hours and already I’ve seen that the citizens lack any sense of propriety. You are a regular bunch of scum, let me tell you. Although you especially, you unutterably malignant reprobate, are the cream rising to the top of the scum heap. And what goes on inside your head at night…” Morgan shook his head. “Yes, I remember you. You’ve been dreaming about horrible things since you turned ten. It’s all I can do to stomach a visit to you every once in a while. I’ve mostly written you off as my brother’s problem.”

Now that he’d tuned in to the signature in front of him, Morgan recognized the man belonging to the dreams. Haunting, vicious things hidden beneath a thin veneer of honeyed bliss. It had been too long since the last time he visited Orestes and his unconscious. He hadn’t missed much, it seemed.

“You listen here—”

Orestes never had the opportunity to continue. In the span of an instant, enchantment flooded him and his minions at his back, and they all fell to the ground, eyes closed in an unnatural sleep.

Done.

“I’m surprised your mother never taught you any manners. She sure as hell tried, the poor woman,” Morgan told the prone form of Orestes. He nudged the torso with the tip of his foot and scowled. “Disgusting mortal.”

In another blink of an eye, the rest of the onlookers on the street drooped down in slumber. Morgan jerked his shoulders and sighed as magic flooded him. Yes, he had missed it, normally reserving it for the night. When he had a job to do.

Using it in the daylight felt sinfully good.

“None of you are getting good dreams tonight,” he admonished the Claddium. “I don’t give a hoot if it’s warranted or not.” Morgan turned on his heel and strode off.

A normal man would have trouble carrying a woman in his arms for so long. Morgan was no ordinary man. He’d have to remember to send his father a gift and thank him. It was one of the only times he was grateful to be half a god.

Thank goodness he’d been there for her meltdown. Karsia could have brought down the entire lakeside, not just the street, if someone hadn’t stopped her. Who knew she was capable of such ferocity? Extraordinary circumstances changed people. Brought out the beast. He didn’t blame her in the least for her feelings, but to have someone taint them, use them against her? He had no choice but to intervene.

Morgan found them a quiet place to relax. Rather, he found a back alley with a dumpster next to a grate of hot sewer billowing up in yellow plumes. It was high time he did a bit of digging outside the conventional means. Past time, more like. There was a certain person he needed to speak with and it would take some maneuvering to find her.

Somewhere in the depths of the infinite possibilities, Karsia lurked. The real her, the immortal essence of who she was and ever would be.

“This will have to do. You and I are having a good, long talk. The sooner the better.” Morgan settled them both down with his back against the brick of a neighboring building. He cuddled Karsia close and rested his head, blocking out the cold. “Time to go find you, little girl.”

With that, Morgan closed his eyes and went hunting.

Walking in dreams was nothing like traversing the mortal realm. In dreams, there were infinite possibilities. Not forward or back, left or right, up or down. Planes stretched out in every direction imaginable. The subconscious was the ultimate form of expression. A blank canvas for worries and goals. Hopes and fears.

Thankfully, this land was his playground. He’d moved through it since his conception and been given dominion over it even with his mixed blood. Keeping his form the same, he searched the empty landscape. It would be easier for her to recognize him.

Her subconscious would remain in stasis—the blank canvas—until he took up his brush once more and painted images for her. There was no sound unless he willed it, no color until he decided it.

He’d come to better understand the nature of what possessed her. The creature who walked in darkness, the shadow he’d seen before and the she the Cavaldi sisters spoke about. This shadow spoke through Karsia’s mouth and stared through her eyes. It looked, acted, and thought through her. In some aspects, it was Karsia. A perverse and twisted version. Whatever lurked beneath the surface, whether it be an impossible spirit or ghost or god from the world of ancient magicks, it had pushed the essence of Karsia aside.

He did what any good sleuth would do: He followed the clues.

Morgan clipped along, allowing his footsteps to echo in the empty void. He stopped, hands on his hips. “This isn’t going to work.” He snapped his fingers and plush grass rose from the blankness. Overhead the sky turned blue and wispy white clouds burst to life. “Better.”

So he walked on.

It may have been minutes, perhaps hours, until he spotted a solitary figure standing in a meadow. That was how she should always look, he decided. Delicate, innocent, and surrounded by wildflowers, with the hint of golden sun adding depth to her wild hair. She’d lifted her face to the glow and absorbed it through her skin, a smile playing on her lips.

Morgan couldn’t help his reaction to her. And if he were honest, he didn’t want to help it. He felt a pull below his heart. It drew him forward, toward her, his reaction doubled in this plane of existence. Heightened from what had already begun to grow between them.

He found her attractive, though it went far beyond simply appreciating her beauty. It was a knowing. A recognition greater than words had the ability to express.

Undeniably, they were meant for each other.

Holy. Crap.

The great Morpheus. God of Dreams. Brought to his knees. Heart cleaved in two by a simple earth witch. He’d found his destiny staring at him from behind soulless black eyes.

The gravity of the moment stole his breath. He focused on his joy at finding her and pushed the weightier emotions aside.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a blast of sound. “Karsia!”

She turned swiftly, eyes impossibly large and swimming with tears despite the smile. Here she wore simple jeans and a t-shirt, whatever outfit she found most comfortable.

“Morgan?”

The tenderness, the vulnerability, shattered his already aching heart. “It’s me. Oh, you sweet, wonderful woman, it’s me.” Morgan let out a breath and shook his head.

To his surprise she ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping her hands around his neck.

Breathing her in, Morgan took her in his embrace and lifted her feet off the ground. She felt impossibly good. This was the woman he’d seen only in glimpses. The impossibly cheerful golden girl of the Chicago streets.

“I don’t know how this is possible. But I’m glad you’re here!” She tightened her hold infinitesimally, breathing him into her lungs. “So glad you’re here. You have no idea.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me after everything that’s happened.” He tightened his grip once before releasing her. She slid down the front of his body until his heart quickened and his groin tightened. Inappropriate, he admonished himself, and willed his nether regions to stand down. “Before we say anything else,” he told her, “you have to know that none of this was your fault. Whatever happened and whatever will happen, you are not to blame.”

“I have no magic to heal my mother,” she began, voice cracking. “And those people I hurt—”

“Shh.” He ran a hand down the length of her hair. “Try not to focus on it.”

“How can I not? I’m stuck in this prison of my own making, watching from inside and unable to do anything.” Karsia gestured around vaguely. “I almost destroyed everything. Everyone. Worse, I thought it was a good idea.” She burrowed her face into his neck and Morgan felt the sting of moisture there. “I would have brought a war down on my family’s shoulders if you hadn’t shown up.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Morgan continued. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people. I have to believe, no matter what is going on inside of you, you are still a good person and would not have gone through with it unless under extreme duress.”

“Then you’re blind,” she said, but there was no heat in her tone. Only remorse.

He continued the embrace as he casually changed the setting. Something to put her at ease, he determined, searching for some nugget of information from her mind. Eventually he grasped onto a memory, a sliver of something from her childhood that had brought her absolute joy. Yes, Italy it was, then.

The blank space filled with life, trees and flowers blooming on a hillside gently rolling down to the sea. He brought up the color on the leaves, played with sights and sounds and textures until the landscape flourished and became real.

Inherently, he knew what she would like and what she’d want to see. Morgan built that world for her. He added a light fragrance to the air. The continuous sound of waves on the pebbled beach below filled the silence, coupled with the chirps of birds and a ubiquitous warm breeze.

Morgan set Karsia down and stood back to stare at her. Had he ever seen anyone so beautiful? She was classic, timeless, with impossibly vulnerable eyes and lips like plump ripe cherries.

“You recognize me?”

“Sure I do.” She sniffled.

“How much…do you remember? Do you remember meeting me?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I get bits and pieces sometimes. I know you smiled at me, when you shook my hand.” She held her hand up and wiggled her fingers. “Then…the car. You drove me home. Then finding out about my mom.”

“Anything else?” Morgan pressed.

There was a long pause, then she shook her head. “No. Nothing. Just a blank.”

“Hey, don’t cry. Wipe those tears away,” he said softly, using the pads of his thumbs to do just that. Proprietarily. He told himself not to be surprised when she let him touch her. When she leaned closer.

Karsia placed her palm over his to connect them. “I can’t. I feel like I’ll never stop crying. I’m a monster, Morgan. How can you bear to be here with me? Did I bribe you with something? Is that why you’re helping me?”

“No, you didn’t bribe me. And you’re not a monster. Do you remember what I said about negative thoughts? No, probably not,” he said with a soft chuckle. “You have to try to be positive. I know it’s hard.” He kept a smile on his face to keep her calm, when the gesture felt forced. “Your mother wouldn’t want you to hurt like this.”

“You don’t know my mother.” Karsia used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her nose. “But she would like you. All your handsome sensuality wrapped up in a scholarly package. She would have sat you down at the dinner table and tried to convince you she made the food, when in reality the woman burns everything. At least there you have something in common.”

Beneath them, a soft blanket rolled out over the grass and provided a cushion for them to lounge. It took only a thought and less effort than lifting a finger. He drew her down until they sat together. “She sounds like a nice lady.”

“She is.” Karsia’s face dropped. She glanced around, feeling the heat of the sun and trying to shift her focus to something, anything else. She didn’t bother to sigh. There were too many things to think about and none solved with a single great exhale. “What is this place?”

“Somewhere I thought you would like.” Wildflowers bloomed in a rainbow of colors, as many varieties and subspecies as there were people on the planet. “But it can be anything you want it to be. I thought the sound of the sea would be a balm. It certainly works for me.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. It feels like forever since I’ve seen the sun.” To her it meant he was trying, trying harder than most men would in his position. She hadn’t expected the carefully crafted details in his vision. The individual blades of grass were meticulous. He was a man who cared about others and their feelings, when she did not understand why he found himself personally invested. Still, she applauded him for his intentions.

“This would be the perfect place for a picnic. Can you conjure something? Nothing edible, unless you think it will help.”

He snapped his fingers and two gelato cones appeared in his palm. He handed one to her. Felt her laugh deep inside. “You know I won’t be able to stay for long,” Morgan said, hating to be the one to break the bad news.

Her lips twitched as she stared at the gelato. “Of course. There are more important things for you to do than babysit me.” Karsia shook her head to clear any bad thoughts and, with tears still rolling down her cheeks, held out her free hand. “I don’t believe we’ve ever had a proper introduction. I’m Karsia Cavaldi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Morgan chuckled at the hastily constructed scene. “Morgan Gauthier. And the pleasure is mine, my lady.” He brought her knuckles to his lips and, unwilling to hold back any longer, placed a kiss on each one.

“I should tell you while I have your attention. It was sweet of you to ask me for dinner.” Karsia retained possession of his hand and linked their fingers together. The slight contact eased something within and a lightness came over her. Not nearly enough to banish all the dark corners, but at that moment it would do. “Italian food is my favorite. I don’t care how you knew, or if you did at all, but it meant something to me. The me you see right now. If I were myself I would have enjoyed it. I’m sure the wine was delicious. I can’t get enough of those plates of pasta. Or gelato.” She raised the cone in a sort of salute. “Not to mention you are an attractive man.”

Her face softened, her generous mouth curving and her eyes darkening. The pad of her thumb played over his skin and a quick jolt of pure lust took him over.

Morgan blinked. His mouth had gone dry. “You remember dinner?”

“I remember you asking me. It was sweet.”

“Well, you’re welcome.” Compliments did not sit well with him. He shifted uneasily and stared out over the sea of his own making. Waves bubbled and frothed as they crashed against the stony shore, filling the air with a timeless melody. “You don’t need to butter me up.”

Karsia had never been one for beating around the bush. It simply was not in her nature. It surprised him when she shifted her body to lean against him, bringing his arms around to circle her body. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I know you aren’t an ordinary man. Like I’m not an ordinary woman.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. I can sense magic when it surrounds me, even when I’m stuck in my own mind. And you, sir, are all shades of magic. More than I’ve ever seen in one person in my life. Will you tell me who you really are?

She held their combined hands up to the light and considered how they looked together. There was something about him that made her feel safe and acknowledged. Attraction twisted in her belly. When the feelings came, she went with them, accepting the natural ebb and flow of emotions. Under normal circumstances she would have enjoyed riding the tide with Morgan. Her mouth twisted down and she thought about how little time they had together.

Even when she looked out at the world with Darkness harnessed to her, she saw his intelligence and integrity. His determination and drive to help her. A stranger. After she’d tried to blow the roof off his office.

She appreciated him for his steadfastness. Fate was something she believed in absolutely, and it seemed that even in a tide of blackness there was a silver lining.

Not to mention he was damn sexy for whatever his age and had the awesome power to find her when she couldn’t find herself. Pride welled up until her limbs warmed. This man, this incredible being, had stayed by her side. He still trusted in her goodness and integrity. It was an awesome thing.

“I’ll tell you soon. When we have more time. It’s a long and boring story,” Morgan replied. “And you shouldn’t be concerned with what I can do, only what I’m willing to do for you.”

“What are you willing to do for me?”

“Anything.”

She chuckled once. “Anything entails quite a lot.”

“Sometimes people are worth going to the ends of the earth for.”

“You don’t know me,” she told him again. “Don’t get me wrong, it makes my poor shriveled heart quiver when you say such nice things, because I’m a romantic to the core. It’s not that I don’t think you mean it. I just think you’ll change your mind once you know the whole story.”

“I doubt I will.”

She felt the deep rumble of his voice against her back, enjoying the sensation. “Should I tell you?”

“Please. I admit I’m curious about you. I would love to know what makes you tick. What kind of witch, and what kind of woman you are.”

Karsia would have given anything not to tell him. To be one of those ordinary women who worried more about where to get their hair done than anything else. Still, he deserved to know if he was going to stay anywhere near her.

“You’re aware magic exists in this world. You’ve seen it, touched it, have some dominion over it yourself,” she began. “You know witches and wizards are real. Our magic comes from the world beyond the veil and is accessed through our genetic makeup. Passed down along gender lines.”

Morgan moved into a more comfortable position. With a snap of his fingers, the half-eaten gelato cones disappeared. “I think that’s more of a statement than a question, but yes, Miss Cavaldi, I know magic is real.”

“Then we’ll start with the birth of the veil. The story on your stone tablet.” She drew a breath before launching into things. “The earth is made up of balance.”

“Yes.”

“So is magic. Practitioners have power stemming from one of the four elements: earth, air, fire, water.”

These were things he knew already. Part of his education growing up on Olympus.

“According to our history, magic wasn’t always manageable,” Karsia said, crossing one leg comfortably over the other. Her voice flowed over him with the richness of spring water. Cool and melodic. “At one time, before the veil separated the two worlds, wars were fought. People went mad with the influx of energy they couldn’t handle and couldn’t shut off. It was a dark time. Chaotic and messy and confusing. Two people set out to find a way to stem the flow.”

“The elementals.”

“Yes. My ancestors. They searched, they found your stone, and they got their way. They became the veil. Tamed magic to the point where those with the genetics to utilize it didn’t die from the sheer magnitude of raw power. And our line continued.” Using her free hand, and not sure her own gift would work, Karsia conjured, drawing on a well of magic as ingrained in her being as her spirit. Her legacy, her birthright, a rush of heat and light composing everything she was and would be.

Surprisingly, a perfect white lotus blossom filled her palm. Pink and magenta tinged the petals and melted slowly into buttery yellow bracts. “I got mine from my mother. Earth magic, living things.”

She held the flower out to Morgan, who took it. Immediately the scent hit him, sweet and pungent. He drew it into his lungs and sighed, thinking the flower a beautiful analogy for Karsia herself. A perfect melding of delicacy and strength.

“It’s exquisite.”

“I know this isn’t real. You’re doing it so I don’t feel like such a failure.” Karsia let out a breath and the lotus dissolved in a shimmer of light. “I used to think my power was strong enough. Humble, maternal. I can summon from thin air or enhance what nature has already made. I can draw on the inherent strengths of the trees or use blossoms to send messages. I can heal using the power of plants, any kind of injury unless the soul has left the body. My sister is the same way.”

Morgan missed nothing. “Sister? That sounds singular to me.”

Karsia chuckled, grateful for the opportunity to focus on something other than her grief. “It is, most certainly, singular. Aisanna and I share this same magical gift. But during her Awakening at fifteen, Astix demonstrated our father’s magic. It’s unheard of and unprecedented.”

“Interesting and unique is what I think you mean,” he supplied.

“Absolutely! But this is the world I come from. There are codes of conduct passed down through generations, ways to comport oneself and strict tenets dictating how we live.” She waved her hand in the air.

Morgan chuckled. “That is the understatement of the century. One day I’ll tell you about the hierarchies where I come from and then we can see who has it worse.”

“I can’t imagine anything worse than living with the Claddium looming over your shoulder your whole life. A gathering of witches is one of the pettiest groups of people you will ever meet.”

“And here I thought witches were mostly extinct, after that whole mess with the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Our numbers were on the downhill slope but we rebounded,” she said. “The Claddium was birthed out of those hard times, you know? A way to keep us safe from any and all who wish to do us harm.”

“You are quite knowledgeable about your history.”

She gave a small shrug. “My family comes from one of the longest surviving lines in the magical communities. Some say the Cavaldis sprang into existence with time itself. We are practitioners of the light. Never before has any of our ilk chosen the other option. Until we discovered that one of our ancestors touched the Telos Amyet and essentially became the keeper of chaos in the world. The lunar eclipse on the vernal equinox is a time of great power. The veil keeping our realities separated is fraying, and rogue magic is seeping through at a rapid rate. Without two willing souls to keep the balance and restore the veil, our reality will be lost.” She paused, swallowed. “When you see me, out there, you’re looking at one of them.”

Keepers of the balance. It shook him. He shifted until she faced him, searching her face for any hint of a tall tale. He was rarely at a loss for words. The best he could manage was, “Not possible.”

“I assure you, it is. And it’s true. She told us.”

“Who told you?”

“Darkness, before she became it. Her name was Cecilia Cavaldi and she, along with her husband Vane, found the stone. It was a way for them to save their people. Only they didn’t understand the sacrifice required.”

“It’s just a tall tale. A legend.” Morgan tilted his head so the silky soft strands of her hair played against his cheek.

“It’s real. You found the tablet.”

“People often inscribed their stories on stone. It doesn’t make the tale true.”

She could see how he would have a hard time believing her. Repeating it now, she hardly understood it herself. “Once the Harbinger restores balance at the eclipse, I’ll take my place between existences. It seems I didn’t understand the choice I made, either.”

The scholarly part of him kicked into overdrive. “Tell me everything you know. Start from the beginning and don’t leave a single thing out.”

“What? Are you going to get out your pen and notebook and start making notes for your next research paper?”

Morgan laughed out loud. “Quite possibly.”

“You do realize I’ve been trying to tell you this since we first met, right?”

She turned to look at him, appreciating the lines of his face. It would have been wonderful to get to know him. Maybe a decent meal and a night of dancing or a nice stroll along the lakeshore. None of those things were possible.

“Tell me again.”

She did, every detail she could recall, from the moment her mother called Astix home, to researching the Cyrillic script, to the instant the bolt intended for Aisanna hit her in the chest instead.

“She said she needed a replacement. Aisanna was going to give herself up, because she felt there were no options left,” Karsia stated. “I couldn’t let her sacrifice herself.”

Curiosity needled Morgan and he was irritated with himself for not asking her about this sooner. She would probably not have told him if he had. “What happened then?”

“Then the blast blew a hole in my chest and Astix fashioned gemstones in a protective barrier to keep me alive and the worst of the evil at bay. Which is why you can have a conversation with me out there and not get murdered.”

“I sure do like waking up in the morning without being murdered. It gets my day off on the right foot,” Morgan joked.

“I didn’t realize professors dabbled in comedy! You manage to pull it off quite well.” Karsia met his humor with a dose of her own, and a silent moment passed between them. A moment where they could simply enjoy each other’s company in the relative peace he’d created for them. “Tell me about you,” she demanded softly, taking a careful breath, hoping this would be one of the few demands to which he would actually acquiesce. “You’re a curious sort of man.”

“No more curious than anyone else. My mother was human. But my father was…more.” Careful, he admonished.

“You aren’t a witch?”

“No. I’m not.” Morgan wished for something, anything, he could sip to break up the sudden clog he felt in his throat while recalling his parentage. Elon’s tea seemed ages ago. “What I am is something immortal with the ability to change shape. At least, I’m immortal until someone kills me.”

“You are old,” Karsia teased.

He pinched her playfully in retaliation for the joke. “I’m old enough to know better.”

She felt him watching her; the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. “I want to know something meaty, juicy. Something no one else knows.”

“How about my favorite color? It’s chartreuse.”

“Nice start, but I bet you can do better.” Her fingers walked along his arm.

It pleased him immensely when she snuggled closer yet. “Well,” he began, “I’ve got a lot of siblings. I mean hundreds. We weren’t exactly close growing up but we do well enough now. To some extent. And because of my father, who he is and what he represents, I was given dominion over the dreams of mankind.”

Karsia pushed away and swiveled her torso to stare at him. A thousand questions brewed behind her eyes as she took him in, though only one made it into words. “You’re responsible for every dream? Everything?”

“I am.”

“I thought you were a professor.” The gears in her mind clicked together. A name popped into her head, and she would have said it aloud had Morgan not spoken.

“Can a person not do two things at once?” he asked.

“It seems an awful lot to bear.”

“The burden gets heavy. Usually, I don’t sleep. And I don’t dream.”

Karsia considered the statement. “But everyone dreams.”

“It’s fine,” he told her. “I’m used to it by now. It’s better to be the one who gifts mankind with theirs than to indulge in it myself.”

“Don’t you miss dreaming?”

“You can’t miss something you’ve never had.”

The sadness in his statement echoed her own. Karsia saw herself reflected in the lenses of his glasses, but more than that, a piece of her recognized the same part inside of him.

She trailed her fingers along the solid planes of his face, down to the stubble on his chin. What was between them was completely normal, natural, she told herself, despite the circumstances. Her blood stirred at the thought of him. The way a woman desired a man she found stimulating. How had she forgotten how breathtaking it was? How thrilling?

A change came over him the longer she stared, a slight flush rising to the tips of his ears. She moved into him slowly. She didn’t want to be attracted. She certainly didn’t want the last pieces of her heart to speed up and clang unsteadily against her ribs.

But it was too difficult to control her reaction to a man like Morgan. Especially when he sat there looking as though he were ready to nibble every piece of her and keep going until there was nothing left.

“Kiss me, Morgan.” Too late to go back, she knew. This was another step into the void. She would take the risk without another thought to the consequences. “Kiss me and make me forget.”

His heart warmed. “Gladly.”

This time she took his face in her hands, framing his cheeks, their hearts speeding to beat in unison. He pressed his mouth to hers and moved lightly along those plump lips. Better than any therapy. Better than the tastiest treat. The choicest ambrosia of the gods.

“You taste amazing,” he managed. This was it, he thought numbly. This was what he’d been missing. The softness, the sweetness, the hunger, the fierceness of a hot mouth against his own. She felt amazing beneath his hands. The thrill of having her there snapped through him like a whip.

Whatever he’d felt the first time they kissed was doubled this time around. She was a living flame in his arms, a whirlwind, or a tidal wave. He could only hold on and pray.

“So do you.” Her arms banded around him as she moaned, a rumble of desperate pleasure that erupted out of her throat. Her brain tumbled down to her feet and she forgot everything if only for a minute. “Morgan.”

Karsia linked her fingers around his neck, sliding her body along his until Morgan was forced to lie back. His arms moved around her waist and she planted herself on him.

How delicious to lose herself while she still retained control. Air lifted them off the ground and she felt as though they flew. His scent seduced her and he murmured her name, wrapped himself around her heart and refused to let go. No man had ever taken her over so completely or easily.

Damn. There really was no going back.

Morgan kissed her gently, his tongue tasting as his fingers trailed along the exposed bit of skin near her hips. The two of them there together was anything but lonely. It made her feel like the only woman in the universe.

She changed the angle of their kiss and brought their pleasure to staggering heights. If possible, she would have crawled inside of him then. Her legs sprawled on either side of his abdomen as their tongues tangoed, blood heated, and teeth nibbled.

She lost her breath there, gave it to him and wanted nothing in return. Guilt flashed through her, that she was here in a dream world kissing a handsome man instead of finding a way to fix herself.

Then she felt the slight trembling of his hands. It helped knowing she wasn’t the only one affected.

“I would love to stay here with you,” Morgan began breathlessly, glad they were lying down. “But I can feel the threads of reality pulling me. Our time is up.”

The real world beckoned, though he would give anything to stay, to see her eyes cloud over and see what pleasure he could bring to them both. His skills were a little rusty but surely, with practice, he would come out on top again.

“No, I don’t think so.” She ran her hands along his arms. “Give us more. You can do that, can’t you?”

He hated to move, to break the contact and return to a world where she would rather spit on him than touch him. Still, he felt the two realities merging, his physical body returning to wakefulness.

“Not this time. I’m afraid if I don’t leave now, I never will, and there will be serious repercussions.”

Karsia placed a final kiss on the tip of his nose. “I’m glad we got a chance to know each other. Will you come find me again?” she asked. “While we search for answers?” Then she whispered softly near his ear. “You’re the sweetest dream I’ve ever had.”

That last statement undid him. He pulled away from her, the words of his promise bursting forth. “I will. You can count on it.”