Chapter Two
Later that morning, during his day’s sleep, a dream brought Grant to a half-waking state.
In the dream, he stood upright and looked around. He wore only his pajama bottoms which was exactly what he’d donned before bed.
At first, he couldn’t figure out where he was, except the location felt oddly French. He was in some kind of interior garden, inside what looked like an ancient, stone castle. It also felt familiar, as though he’d seen pictures of it recently, though he couldn’t remember where.
The shape of the garden was rectangular with stone pillars separating the castle structure from the garden. Overhead, the sun shone down on the grass and plants. His alter wolf senses, however, told him he was three hundred feet above sea level yet very close to the ocean. He swore he could smell the salt air.
Another scent rose to greet him as well, something he associated with Natalie, the fae futurist that had helped him rescue Talya from the Graveyard.
His thoughts shifted abruptly to events of the night before, of realizing it was the woman who had fired the weapon and saved his ass.
Natalie.
She’d levitated beside him, knowing he’d been seriously wounded. She could have freaked out, instead, she’d gauged his abilities just right and together they’d saved Talya and he’d gotten the help he needed.
What a woman, even if she was fae.
As dreams often did, the garden shifted slightly. He glanced down at his feet and could see through the grass at least twenty feet below.
There she was.
Natalie.
Asleep on her bed, or at least he supposed it was her bed.
She slept on her side, her mass of curly brown hair spilling over her bare arm. She shifted her head slightly on the pillow then rolled onto her back. She grimaced and lifted her chin. Her lips parted. Somehow, it was the most seductive thing in the world. She even licked her lips.
Odd the way dreams could conjure so much detail.
What was she dreaming about?
For a powerful, lustful moment, he wished it was him.
But as quickly as the thought came, another memory intruded as hard as a slap across the face, of losing his wife because of the chaos of Five Bridges. He’d made a dozen promises to himself to keep his eye fixed on what needed to be done in their world. More than anything, he was committed to sustaining order within the Meldorin Pack and keeping everyone safe from Kryder’s ineffective and brutal leadership.
He drew a deep breath. He had enough self-knowledge to understand that the two thoughts were related: His desire for Natalie and his need to sustain order in his pack. Natalie threatened his goals, even in his dreams.
He lifted his gaze skyward. He was looking up this time and the sun was on his face. He loved it.
Then he recalled exactly where he was: The cloister garden at Le Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy, France.
Kiara’s Revel refuge had a painting of it not far from the emergency bays. He didn’t understand why, except in this painting the tide had come in and had made an island of the ancient monastery.
Five Bridges was that kind of island, cut off from the rest of the world by prison-like walls, guards and thousands of yards of barbed wire curled back and forth through each territory. The five alter species, created by a devastating serum, had been at each other’s throats for thirty years.
His gaze fell once more to Natalie below his feet. She rolled her head on the pillow and moaned softly. In the dream, he drew closer as though collapsing the distance between the grass of the garden and the vision of her on her bed.
Closer and closer until the grass disappeared and he was hovering above her. In her sleep, she lifted her arms and slid them beneath her head. Her eyes were still shut.
He’d noticed how beautiful she was at the hospital. But as he watched her, he saw a faint smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. They almost weren’t there.
She looked very young.
Her lips parted again. He resisted the urge to drag his thumb over her lower lip. She drew in a ragged breath, then spoke his name aloud, “Grant.”
Had she really said his name?
Of course, this was his dream and he wanted her saying his name.
She lowered her arms and pushed the covers away. She wore a silk nightgown. Her movements were sensual, and his body heated up.
A sensation of danger and distrust returned. She was fae. Her kind, with futurist abilities had hurt his kind. He wanted to leave the dream, yet somehow couldn’t. He pictured the cloister garden once more and, voila, found himself there again. Unfortunately, now, he had a raging erection.
What the hell was it with this woman?
~ ~ ~
Natalie slowly awoke. She knew she hadn’t been sleeping all that long. Her alter senses told her it wasn’t even noon.
She sat up in bed and realized she ached between her legs. What on earth had she been dreaming about?
Right.
Grant.
Of course.
She had it bad. She’d just met him, yet he’d somehow invaded her thoughts and her dreams so that all she felt was a constant need for the man.
She slid her hand between her legs and pressed hard trying to force the sensation to abate. It was as though her celibacy of the past several years had ceased suddenly and all she could think about was sex.
She’d been dreaming about France and the island community of . It was the strangest place called a tidal island. At times, when the tide was high it flowed all around the monastery and created a true island. The water could be as deep as fifty feet. But at low tide, the monastery was surrounded by land.
A memory intruded. She and her husband had honeymooned there though it seemed like a million years ago.
She flopped back down on the bed. She thought she’d turned all the lights out in her house, but an eerie light shone from above.
When she looked up, really looked, her breath shuddered.
What the hell?
She could see a man walking in a garden, but her view was from beneath him? The angle made no sense.
Then she understood. She was caught in a dream within a dream.
She relaxed against the pillows and let it come.
The man wore long cotton pajama bottoms and no shirt.
She decided she was too far away and wanted a better look. She closed her eyes and imagined herself closer.
When she opened her eyes, she could only smile because she had conjured Officer Grant.
Of course.
The man of her dreams.
She could even laugh at the thought, but her amusement faded and gave way to serious perplexity. Was he the man of her dreams?
She rubbed her forehead and watched him as he paced across the grass.
The garden was open to the sky, yet it was enclosed between stone walls with elegant arched openings.
Then she realized she was looking at the cloister garden at Le Mont Saint-Michel.
She released a deep sigh.
What a beautiful dream what an extraordinary man.
He was a god. That was the real problem with Grant. He had to be six-five at least, which she really liked since she was just shy of six-foot herself. His shoulders were broad, and he was extremely well-muscled as many of the wolves were who served on the Five Bridges Border Patrol.
His heavy, well-defined shoulders flared to a broad back that angled to a narrow waist.
She watched as he turned and headed back in her direction. He had a taut six-pack. His pj bottoms hung below his naval and her tongue made appearance swiping at suddenly dry lips.
She was having trouble catching her breath and the ache between her legs became a dedicated throb.
It was only a dream. Why not engage with him a little? Why not talk to him? Maybe do other things? What could it hurt?
She remembered his long light brown hair covered in blond highlights. His braid, which many of the wolves wore and often in different configurations, ran down the center of his back almost to his waist. He was frowning heavily.
She felt a sudden and profound compulsion to go to him. She could see he was troubled, and she wanted to help, to ease his distress.
She rose the rest of the way so that now she was in the garden as well and only a few yards away.
He stopped as he caught sight of her. His brows rose. “You’re here. I was trying to send you away.”
Odd words.
“You don’t want me here?” She could only smile. It was her dream and he was telling her he was opposed to being in her dream. She chuckled softly. “You were frowning.”
“Was I? I guess I was.” He appeared to debate something in his mind then finally said. “This is a very real dream.”
“It is. And you’re wearing pajama bottoms.”
His gaze fell to the purple silk nightgown she wore. It had a simple design and hung loosely over her though the bodice revealed the tops of her breasts. His gaze got stuck there.
She moved in his direction. She felt the grass beneath her bare feet. How odd to be feeling each blade. She could smell the roses as well and loved the feel of the cool sea air on her skin.
“My husband and I were here once, on our honeymoon.” The memories rushed back, of being human and in love, long before her alter transformation and his death during the same process.
They had fed seagulls from their balcony. She’d left a container of yogurt on the patio table and one of the seagulls had helped itself. She’d been charmed. Happy.
Safe away from the drugs and alter serums well-contained within the boundaries of the U.S. She’d dreaded returning to Phoenix where there were dozens of reported alter serum changes every week. It was like winning the lottery in reverse.
Now she was here having a lustful dream about an alter wolf.
When she drew close, he met her gaze, his expression still deeply perplexed. “What are you thinking, Grant?” Saying his name aloud felt good.
“That you were more beautiful than I remember and that I’ve never had such a vivid dream before.”
She chuckled again. “We’re both dreaming then.” Her normal reticence in being around wolves had disappeared. She felt bolder than usual.
He was absurdly handsome with his long hair and strong wolf features. He had marked cheekbones like they could cut something. When he’d battled the wolves in the Graveyard, she’d seen a thin line of golden fur along the same cheek structure. His jaw was strong, lips full. Damn kissable. But it was his eyes that got to her, the serious light in pools of gold-green heat.
She could smell him now, even while dreaming, a wonderful scent like fresh-cut lumber. She knew his reputation, that he’d served his pack well. He was a man who built things, who created order where there had been little before. His wife had died in the pack chaos. She knew that much. She remembered now, that Renee had been sent into the Graveyard on a fool’s errand and had been attacked and killed.
He might be a wolf, but she could respect his desire to protect his people against the bad rule of a self-centered alpha. She also valued that he’d risked his own life to rescue a fae woman.
When he lifted a hand to caress her arm and his gaze followed the movements of his fingers, she didn’t stop him. His touch was warm, even comforting.
“This feels so real,” he murmured.
“It does. Almost like this isn’t a dream.”
He met her gaze once more and stepped closer. “I want to kiss you. Would you allow it?”
In a dream, hell yeah. “I want nothing more.”
His lips curved slightly.
She tilted her head. Her eyes fell shut and she gave herself to the experience of his moist lips on hers. He didn’t try to invade her mouth. Instead, he drifted his lips over hers and his voice was suddenly in her mind. You taste the way you smell, like you’ve been sipping lemonade with mint. I love it.
He moved closer so that his hips connected with hers. She wasn’t surprised to feel his erection firmly against the juncture of her thighs. Nothing had felt better to her in years. She missed her husband and she hadn’t dated much in Five Bridges.
This moment, with Grant pulling her more tightly into his arms, showed her exactly what she’d been missing.
She leaned into him, moaning heavily. She didn’t care if he knew what she wanted. This was her dream and she was letting loose.
She ran her hands down his arms, letting her fingers ride the dips and swells of his toned muscles. Her breasts felt pushy as she pressed herself against him.
At last, he deepened the kiss and another moan followed as his tongue penetrated her mouth.
He set a slow, seductive rhythm. In and out. A steady pulse. She could hardly breathe.
The ache between her legs grew stronger, more demanding. Would it be so wrong to be with Grant in a dream? If she let go in this way, would she be embarrassed when she saw him again?
She chuckled because she was being ridiculous.
He drew back. “Why are you laughing?” He searched her eyes in that serious way of his.
“Because I’ve been mentally debating whether I should let this happen, even though it’s just a dream.”
“You’ve been debating this?” His brow grew furrowed once more and just like that he released her completely.
She almost reached for him, to beg him to continue. But as he turned in another circle, she watched his shoulders tighten and he stood up straighter.
“What the hell is this?” He called out then whipped back to her. “Dammit, fae woman, this is a fucking dreamglide. What have you done to me? It’s illegal to invade someone’s dreams and pull them into one of these things. I should have known.”
She blinked at least twice then also turned to glance around. He was right. This had to be a dreamglide. She could see now that the edges of the space were blurred. She looked down at the grass and could see through it to her bedroom below.
What didn’t make sense was why the dreamglide was above her bedroom. But then, she’d never made one before. She’d never come close to having that kind of power. Her gifts ranged toward the future and having access to what was to come. She’d even tried more than once to build a dreamglide, but it had never happened for her.
She’d simply accepted her inability and moved on.
Now she was here.
In a dreamglide.
She began to run along the grass all around what was the perimeter of the famous Cloister Garden. She even smiled. Who would have thought she could do such a thing? It was a miracle and yet something didn’t feel right about it.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Grant shouted. “I could bring you up on charges.”
Her temper rose, and she turned to face. She crossed the grass quickly to stand in front of him. “You would do that? After what we’ve been through?”
“I don’t like being kidnapped.”
“Grant, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I promise you. I don’t know how it did. I’ve never built a dreamglide before. I didn’t think I could and what I really don’t understand is why the dreamglide is above my bed and not above yours?”
“Well, how would I know the answer to that? I’m a wolf and you’ve trespassed.”
“It wasn’t intentional. You have to believe me.”
Maybe it was her sincerity, but her words stopped him. He was still frowning though as he met her gaze. His nostrils flared. “How do I get out of here?”
“I honestly don’t know. Like I said, this was my first time.”
His scowl deepened. “Why don’t you try waving your arm and snapping your fingers.”
His flippant attitude pissed her off.
“Why don’t you try?” she countered.
He narrowed his gaze, his nostrils flaring again. For whatever reason, he took her at her word, lifted his arm and snapped his fingers.
Just like that, he was gone.
She was about to protest when it was as though she was falling from the Cloister Garden through the grass. She screamed as she fell, but she wasn’t really falling. Instead, she opened her eyes and she was lying in her bed safe and sound.
“What the hell?”
Then she understood exactly what had happened, which made the situation all the more astonishing. Seems the shoe was on the other foot, or paw maybe.
~ ~ ~
Grant had no idea what just happened or how he’d suddenly returned with a jolt back to his bed of furs deep inside his burrow.
He lay on top of the soft pelts and clutched at them as though seeking something tangible to ground him. He couldn’t make sense of what had just happened or how, by lifting his arm, he’d done exactly what he’d wanted to do: to leave Natalie’s dreamglide.
He sat up and slid off the edge of the bed. He was in his burrow home, the one he’d carved out of the earth and kept expanding.
He didn’t need a clock to tell him what he already knew. It wasn’t even noon yet. Alter creatures were mostly night-dwelling. Even though he was a wolf, he couldn’t go out in the daytime. The sun hurt him and would kill him if he remained outdoors for any length of time. It was one more loss he’d had to endure after becoming an alter creature. He’d come to think of his first three years as a period so grief-stricken, on so many levels, he wasn’t sure how he’d found the strength to keep going.
Except one thing hadn’t changed when he’d gotten sick with the alter serum. His drive for life had remained unabated. If anything, he loved life even more as wolf.
He slid his head into his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.
He let the recent experience of being with Natalie in the dreamglide replay itself over in his mind. Of course, being a man the images that hit him first were of how he’d felt when he’d kissed her. My God, he hadn’t felt that way since the time when he’d first kissed Renee. Holding Natalie in his arms had felt like home and the kiss that followed had bordered on magical.
He tried to recall what he knew about dreamglides. Alpha Fergus could build them. But Grant had no idea how he did it, especially being a wolf.
But Fergus and his alpha-mate Mary, also a fae, had used the dreamglide more than once to save their fellow pack-mates. Fergus had even helped Alpha Warren out not long ago.
Grant felt as though he’d fallen into a mystery he had no idea how to solve. Mostly, he was sickened that another alter individual had been able to invade his dreams and pull him into a dreamglide. If she’d wanted to hurt him, she could have. More than anything, Grant hated feeling vulnerable and that’s what was bugging the shit out of him.
He stood up abruptly and moved around the side of the bed. An arched opening led to a running track on the same level as his burrow. It was the first thing he’d dug out when he’d made the decision to leave the pack compound and move to his own residence. He wasn’t doing anything unusual. At least half the pack slept in separate domiciles.
But his decision had been made to keep him in a location as far from Kryder as possible. Still, he made sure he showed up each night for first-meal in the compound’s belowground dining hall.
He stepped out of his pjs and as he jogged through the opening and down the hall, he let his wolf come. He needed to be on all fours. He needed the release.
As soon as his paws hit the sand, he felt better.
He ran and ran until his sides were heaving and his tongue lolled from his mouth.
After a half hour of solid running and still in wolf form, he padded slowly to his expansive bathroom and leaped toward the handle. He hit it square then dropped to all fours. The rain-shower beat down on his fur and his mind began to settle.
He knew one thing more clearly than anything else: He had to confront Natalie about what she’d done. If he couldn’t get a straight answer from her, he intended to pursue her through the courts. There were reasons why the Tribunal had laws on the books about not violating other alters in their dreams.
~ ~ ~
That evening, when Natalie had gotten Grant’s call about demanding a meeting, she’d put him off for two hours. She needed time to think and to prepare.
He’d sounded adversarial on the phone and why wouldn’t he since he was under the erroneous belief she’d invaded his dreams. In his boots, Natalie would be pissed off as well.
However, she had no idea how he’d react to the truth.
She’d told him to meet her at her studio. She didn’t know or trust Grant well enough to let him into her home.
The wolves of Savage Territory had proven their characters to her over and over. She’d been an active participant in the Fae-Wolf Wars when her best friend at the time had died at the hands of several out-of-control wolves. But her body had never been found and she was presumed cremated, without being reported, as many were during this time.
Several fae officers had retaliated by making use of her futurist gift, along with at least a dozen other gifted fae women, and had ambushed the same wolves. Two of them had died and the others had escaped.
More wolves had attacked other fae women and men. More had died. Her people exacted revenge each time, but always using future information to single out the next desired victim.
Eventually, she’d persuaded the Tribunal to step in. Meetings were arranged. Financial reparations made on both sides to various victims. Several wolves were arrested and at least three fae Border Patrol officers.
Natalie admitted she’d never quite forgiven Savage Territory for what had happened. Her own involvement had been very limited and had ended the same night she’d provided her one and only vision of the future. When she’d learned of the deaths of several wolves because of her information, instead of feeling proud, she was sickened. She’d ended her involvement then and there.
What she did know was that Grant had participated as well, though to what extent she didn’t know.
Now, somehow, she’d gotten involved with a wolf. It didn’t mean she had to continue seeing Grant and she suspected, after tonight’s meeting, she’d probably never see him again.
Her studio wasn’t far from either her canal-side home or the canal itself. It was one of several stand-alone dwellings, each belonging to fae with futurist abilities and enough high-paying clients to afford the pricy address.
Rolling lawns and an abundance of trees gave the strip of studio-offices the appearance of a park. She’d needed the serenity of the garden atmosphere to get through each grueling night. She rarely talked about it, even with her closest friends, but her futurist work exhausted her. Throughout each night’s work, she experienced muscle cramping and headaches.
Sometimes, her sojourns frightened her half out of her wits. She especially hated those visions that contained violence because she’d have to suffer through a difficult decision-making process. Who should she tell? Would anyone believe her? What if she chose not to act and something horrific happened?
For a long time now, she’d had a strict policy not to avail herself of the future except on behalf of clients seeking very specific information. She preferred hunting for financial details in the future and absolutely refused to accept a client’s request if they featured issues of infidelity or domestic abuse.
She was more than happy to seek out stock-tips. Perhaps for that reason, she’d gained an excellent reputation as a financial advisor. She had numerous clients in the Metro Phoenix area as well as in Five Bridges. A number of warlocks and vampires in particular sought her ought when they were mulling various investment strategies. She had a solid client list and an income that was allowing her to build a new wing onto Kiara’s Revel rescue center.
She’d been happy with the direction her life was headed.
Now there was this serious, furry bump in the road and she had no idea how to handle it.
Of course, once Grant learned the truth about just who had built the dreamglide, the problem might resolve itself simply enough. She doubted he’d want to see her again and she was perfectly amenable to that idea.
She turned to the lit shelving behind the central chair where she had her clients sit. She had designed the arrangement, the lighting, and the different statues and books in such a way to create a calm, serene environment. She had a number of candles she would fire up as well and debated doing so now for her meeting with Grant. She wanted him calm.
In the end, she opted for only one, the tall white candle on the small table in front of the burgundy client chair.
Opposite the chair and table was a club chair she would use when initially discussing her client’s requests. Beyond the smaller chair was a wall of glass shelves she’d filled with a variety of items collected from antique stores like books, old photographs, glassware, small prints, bronze statues, unique lamps. Each was intended to create a warm environment of trust.
When she heard the knock on the door, she took a deep breath. “Come in.”
This would not be an easy meeting.
There was no way Grant would want to hear what she had to say.
~ ~ ~
Grant’s jaw worked as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. He had words sitting at the tip of his tongue ready to lambast Natalie for what she’d done. But the sight of her, or maybe the odd sense he had of her studio, stopped him.
Closing the door behind him, he glanced around. The space spoke of affluence with an antique carpet over a dark hardwood floor. The air smelled of an exotic spice. A candle burned on a small round table in front of a burgundy, wingback chair.
Natalie stood very still, one hand resting on top of the tall chair. She looked beautiful with her long curly hair floating around her shoulders and down her arms. She wore leggings as she had when he’d met her, only they were black this time. Her silk overshirt was white. A silver belt hung loose at her waist.
Shit. He was as drawn to her as much as before, despite how mad he was.
He swept an arm encompassing the candle, table and chair. “What’s with all this? What am I looking at?” His anger erupted. “Do you think you can fix what you’ve done by lighting a candle, fae-woman?”
The little he’d known her, even in the dreamglide, Natalie seemed like a strong woman. She didn’t appear to be angry or even distressed as she met his gaze, despite the fact she’d committed an illegal act.
He was a Border Patrol officer and considered himself good at reading people, but right now she mystified him.
“Are you done showing your temper?” she asked quietly.
“Not exactly and you know damn well I have every right to be mad as hell.”
“Maybe. But not at me. I’ve done nothing wrong here.” Her gaze never left his, another circumstance that made him uneasy. What was she up to?
He addressed the issue head-on. “You built a dreamglide and pulled me into it while I was sleeping. Are you going to deny it?”
She stepped around the chair enough to stand beside the table. “Grant, there’s something you need to know, need to understand, but I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”
When she didn’t continue, he said, “Go on.”
“I didn’t build the dreamglide. You did.”
He snorted. “Like hell I did. I’m a wolf.”
“Alpha Fergus can build them. Why not you?”
“Well for one damn thing, I’m nowhere near his level of ability or power. He’s alpha of the second largest pack in Savage and I’m still beta in one of the middling packs. This makes no sense.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have the dreamgliding gift. God knows I’ve tried, but I can’t do it. When I asked you to give me some time before our meeting, I went to Agnes and had her check me out again. You know Agnes, right? She has a locked-down shelter not far from here.”
“I know Agnes.”
She nodded, then continued. “Of course, I didn’t go into any of the details about what happened earlier today. But she’s a powerful fae that I trust implicitly. She said I haven’t got the gift. Earlier, in Mont St. Michel, I suspected the truth. I mean, everything about the dreamglide and where it was positioned, as in above my bed, spoke to the creator. If I’d been the one to build it, the craft would have hovered above your bed, not mine.”
Grant felt as though a strong gust of wind kept hitting him in the chest. He even slid his right foot back a few inches to steady himself.
He’d built the dreamglide?
Impossible.
Slowly, he crossed the room to the burgundy chair and all but fell into it. He’d been ready to arrest Natalie and haul her to the Tribunal offices in Elegance Territory.
Now this.
Natalie started to pace in front of a bunch of glass shelves but quickly stopped. She planted a hand against her forehead for a moment, then slid it to the nape of her neck and rubbed.
“What’s wrong?” he called to her.
She turned and headed the other direction so that he watched her move in profile. “I don’t know if it’s you, or us, or being in my studio, but a vision keeps wanting to come forward and I’m not having it.”
“Why not? I thought you fae-types loved having this kind of power.” He was having his own problems, but it was clear she was as well.
At that, with eyes pinched as though she was in pain, she paused in her steps and turned to face him. “This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t like knowing the future. I never have. It’s unsettling beyond words and it hurts.”
“What do you mean? A physical kind of pain?”
“Headaches, muscle cramps, sometimes nausea. It’s no picnic for me. I know plenty of fae women who love it, love the visions, love knowing the future, just as you said. They love telling everyone else the future. But for me, it’s a kind of burden I never expected to bear. Sometimes I come close to loathing it and don’t even get me started on the nightmares. Agnes says I have a different kind of gift, one that sees too much of the future, especially if the circumstances are dire. It’s hell.”
This was the last thing he’d ever expected her to admit. Because of the Fae-Wolf Wars, he’d always thought fae reveled in their power, holding that kind of information over everyone else.
He didn’t know what to think about himself or about her. He couldn’t believe that he could build dreamglides. Yet the one thing she’d said was very true: If she’d built it, she would have been above his bed not hers.
“I’d like to try an experiment,” she said. “Would you be open to it?”
He lifted his gaze to her. “What do you have in mind?”
“Why don’t you try to build a dreamglide now, while we’re together and while you’re completely awake? Then you’ll know for sure what’s happening here and whether or not you have this gift.”