Sixteen

I would have made you mine.

Heat flared in Quinn’s breasts and deep in her belly. Forming a coherent sentence wasn’t happening, but Zaire had it all wrong. She’d belonged to him since the second a solemn, lonely, silent boy had appeared in the shadows of her dream and kept her safe from the nightmares.

“What would have stopped you from destroying me like the other dreamcasters?” She ignored the hard throb of her pulse in her throat, afraid of his answer, terrified it might be more damaging to her heart than her mind.

“I stumbled onto the trail of your dreams when I was too young to know any better. I…lived for those stolen moments with you, away from the pain.” Zaire shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’d staked another claim on her soul. “You gave me respite, and for that alone, I would have spared you.”

His words rang both true and incomplete. For that alone. Which meant there was another reason, too—one he didn’t want to share.

“Violence is an inherent characteristic of the V’alkara, and White honed it mercilessly in his training. The demons residing in my head tell me that the V’alkara were born during the age of Cain.” Zaire dragged a fingernail over a mark on the pommel of his sword, continuing with his incriminating history. “They could be lying, but I don’t think so. Human darkness has always existed. Along the way, something within it twisted, adapted, and took form, and the first V’alkara emerged.” His thumb stilled. “It would’ve been better if he had died without offspring.”

Then Zaire wouldn’t exist, and a world without him would be missing an important piece, an element necessary to her being. Quinn held the words inside, close to her heart. He wasn’t ready to hear that from her, not yet.

He paused and looked up, the white-hot stars burning in his black eyes. “I, too, succumbed to the darkness, to the monster inside. I didn’t comprehend the meaning of kindness or compassion. I didn’t care that I destroyed others for my own needs. I didn’t consider that I may one day regret my decisions.” The harsh lines in his features softened slightly. “Then I discovered Jenny and Braden. They rekindled the shreds of humanity that had somehow escaped my V’alkara training.” His dark gaze met hers. “Now there’s you. I’d destroy myself before harming you in any way.”

Quinn swallowed hard and tried for a grin. “So that’s why you tried to cut off my head a few minutes ago?”

His lips twitched, coming very close to a true smile. “I want you to survive. Besides seeing Braden safe, that is my one last wish.”

“Last wish?” Cold drilled deep inside her, and her stomach twisted. Her interpretation must be wrong. No way was Zaire dying. She’d just found him. “If you need dreamcaster nightmares, I’m happy to share. Without the mind-destroying part, of course.”

Something dark and dangerous billowed in his eyes. “There is no cure for me.”

The cold in her blood intensified. “Earlier, you said that a dreamcaster’s nightmares are the best thing to tame the V’alkara beast. Were you lying?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath. She doubted it was nice. Straightening, he scowled at her. “When I found Jenny and Braden, I chose to spend my days with them as a normal man, not a product of nightmares.” His mouth tightened slightly. “The only way I could do so was by eluding the V’alkara, and the only way to hide from White was to not feed. But not consuming nightmares eroded my control, and I feared I would hurt the two people who mattered to me. So I fed on the nightmares I’d collected and stored instead of on human dreams. This damaged me in unexpected ways, but I didn’t care. Until Jenny got sick.”

Quinn fisted her hands to keep them from shaking. “Damaged how?”

He leaned on his sword and bowed his head, frowning at the white sand. “When the Crows chained me, I had no reason not to feed again, but I found that no matter how many dreams I took, Changing resulted in my nightmare form being permanently absorbed. It became a part of me, another demon voice inside my head. And, now, each time I Change, it’s more difficult to return to a human state. The last time…” He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I almost didn’t return.”

The truth in his voice, in his expression, made it impossible to doubt him. Even if he stayed with her, his days as a man, as a human were limited. A needle of despair pierced her heart. She’d finally found him only to lose him.

He must have noticed something in her expression because one corner of his mouth curled up. “Enough standing around. If you want more answers, you’ll have to earn them.”

“What—” Before she could utter the next word, the shadows curling around him like tranquil dragons lassoed her ankle and jerked her off her feet. A yawning pit opened in the sand only a few feet away, and the shadows dragged her relentlessly toward it.

She’d endured enough nightmares to know what happened if she fell. Death in dreams wasn’t an easy end. Normal people talked about how they’d wake up before landing. She wasn’t that lucky. Twisting, Quinn clawed at the sand to slow her progress, which didn’t help much.

Zaire watched her in silence, his arms folded, a definite smirk gracing his face.

“Payback’s a dirty, cupcake-stealing party pooper,” she growled, closing her eyes against the spray of sand. “And I always charge—” She gasped as the shadows flung her out into the void. “—interest!”

As she plummeted, his laughter followed her down.

***

The laugh Quinn had startled from him still echoed when his shadows arrowed out of the darkness she’d disappeared into and snared his arms and legs, dropping him hard to the sand and pinning him down. One shadow remained tethered to him, connecting him to the void, and it went taut, strangling his ribs.

He wanted to lift his head and watch her rise from the deep, but one of his shadows—loyal subjects who had never disobeyed until now—had him by the throat. Resuming control was possible…but not nearly as enjoyable as a compromise. Staring up at the stars, he waited for his dreamcaster’s imminent displeasure.

Quinn’s panting breaths came first, then her adorable growl as she assumedly made it back to the surface. Her angry stomps through the sand preceded her lovely face scowling at him from above. He had much to teach her about the art of effective looming, for the heat racing through him had nothing to do with fear or foreboding.

“What was that about?” She poked him in the chest.

With much more effort than he’d admit, he directed his shadows to release him. One by one, they melted into his skin, sullen. “Practice.”

“No, not that. You laughed.” She sat on her heels, still frowning. “Not with me. At me.”

He sat up and draped his hands over his knees. “Perhaps not with you, but certainly not at you.” His mouth twitched. “Dirty, cupcake-stealing party pooper?”

“I’m not witty under pressure.” She brushed at some sand on her pants. “You took me by surprise.”

He leaned on one hand, angled her way. “Why is my laughter so important?”

“Because it’s clear you haven’t laughed enough during your lifetime, and I want to make you happy enough to do so.”

His heart squeezed tight, making it difficult to breathe. By all things deep and dark, she killed him without even trying.

“And for laughing without me, it’s double the interest.” She lifted two fingers. “Two questions.”

He hid his smile behind a false sigh. “Very well.”

Her dark eyes glittered, no doubt illuminated by the swirl and selection of which question to ask first. “Did you understand anything in that lab report from Isaac’s scientist friend?”

He nodded. “A combination of silver, iron, and amethyst will cause a V’alkara pain, but it’s more a firm deterrent than a debilitating injury. It’s the unknown ingredient that worries me.” He trailed one finger through the cool, white sand. “It suggests that the Faction has discovered an element to impair a V’alkara.” The very thought made his jaw clench. If their new poison had subdued him, it could easily kill a younger, less powerful V’alkara. And with the V’alkara in a state of chaos, some insecurely organized under an untried ruler, others gathering under another tyrant, and the rest scattered, it was the perfect time to strike.

“What’s the Faction?”

A muscle rippled in his jaw. Another enemy to add to her growing list, all because of him. “I refrained from speaking of them earlier. You already had enough information to be overwhelmed.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s an auspicious beginning.”

“The ones who attacked me were Faction. I suspect they did it to inject me with their potion.” He freed a knife and flipped it. “They probably didn’t all expect to die without witnessing the results.”

“Sucks to be them.” She didn’t smile. “How are they different from the V’alkara?”

“The Faction is a force of their own, made to counterbalance…” He caught himself before leaking the one bit of information he refused her. The Faction was created to offset the destruction a V’alkara and dreamcaster match could potentially wreak—whether by choice or if manipulated by an enemy. Zaire would never allow Quinn to know that he was hers, to mourn what could have been but could never be. He did that enough for both of them. The world might be better off without the V’alkara, but there was always a balance. Without the V’alkara, dreamcasters would have no hope of peace. Eventually, the Faction would eliminate the dreamcasters, leaving a strange void. What would they do if they didn’t have dreamcasters to hunt or V’alkara to sabotage?

He cleared his throat. “The Faction was once the watchdogs of both dreamcasters and V’alkara. Over time, they became zealots but instead of monitoring, their purpose twisted into elimination.” He shrugged. “I cannot actually blame them. Erasing the problem is often the easiest solution.”

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut. “Let me get this straight. Not only do I have to be on the lookout for V’alkara, which I didn’t know existed until a few days ago, but there’s another group of murderous fanatics who’d kill me first and ask questions later?”

“As I said, never remove your adder stone.”

“Your advice could use some steroids, Zaire.” She made a face at him. “How am I supposed to avoid any of them?”

“Should you ever get a chill for no reason, not simply goosebumps, but one of those bone-deep shivers that tells you something is amiss…run and don’t stop. More than likely, a Faction member is near.”

She swallowed, hard enough to hear. “And a V’alkara?”

“I fear there aren’t many detectible signs for us, other than your instincts. If you’re close enough, you may notice an odd shimmer in the V’alkara’s eyes, but if you’re that close, it’s too late.”

She leaned into his face, searching his eyes. Her nearness brought the scent of apples and autumn. Her sweet mouth, only inches away, tempted him with the memory of its softness.

Zaire endured her scrutiny, not daring to breathe, his heart a raging cymbal. It would be so easy, so natural to meet her halfway, to take her lips. Bury his hands in her hair. Drop her to the sand and make her his in every way—

“Starlight,” she whispered, derailing his thoughts. “Did you know that when you left my dreams, you took the stars with you?”

He lifted his gaze from her siren’s mouth to her eyes. “I never took anything from your dreams, Quinn. Never.”

“Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you can’t deny the evidence.” She lifted her face to the sky. “The stars returned home when you did.”

Home. The word sliced deep, leaving a hollow, aching need.

“How’d you take the necklace from my dream and bring it back to the real world?” Her focus dropped to the wicked cross now hanging around his neck, a new addition to his weaponry. Wisely, she didn’t touch it. Outside the dream, it was sharp. Inside, every faceted edge would slice through skin with a simple touch, and through bone if flung.

“You hold the full blame for that one.” His lip curled at her disbelieving expression. “The cross belonged to you. When you pushed me out of your dream, you sent it with me.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she lifted a fistful of sand. “You’re saying I can bring this sand out of my dream and throw it all over Steph’s floor?” She paled. “Or nab a demon and drag it back with me? No wonder those Faction guys are worried about dreamcasters.”

“From what I understand, there are limits, depending on the dreamcaster.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll have to experiment.”

Her dark eyes sparkled. “Definitely.” She went absolutely still, her lips parted, a sign that a particularly interesting thought had struck her. “What about a person?” Excitement trembled in her voice. “Can I find someone and bring them out?”

Cold traveled down his arms. He knew what she was thinking—find Braden in the dream and bring him back. While a kind and creative consideration, risking his nephew’s life on an untried theory was not an option. “Perhaps, but would the one you bring back be the same person or another version, a twin or clone or something entirely different?”

She visibly deflated. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” She studied his cross again. “I wonder where your cross went when I replaced it with mine? Maybe it just…changed. Or ceased to exist.” She looked like she was going to be sick. “You’re right. There are too many unanswered questions to go there yet.”

“Yet?” He arched an eyebrow.

Her smile returned. “Not all quitters quit at everything, sunshine.”

To distract himself before he surrendered to the urge to pull her into his arms and fuse her to his heart, Zaire slipped one finger beneath the chain around her neck and lifted the obsidian cross. It was heavier than he anticipated. “Why this as your weapon?”

Quinn looked down, and the faint smile on her lips was laced with some bittersweet emotion. “When I had to face my nightmares alone, I reached the point where I had to decide whether to surrender or learn to fight them.” She traced a slender finger down the length of one bar, and heat shuddered through him as though her touch had caressed his spine instead. “I refused to believe that I’d been created this way by mistake. I needed a solid symbol to remind me of that in the nights I wavered. When I wanted to give up.” She lifted her gaze to his, and instead of the haunted expression he’d expected, he found only unfailing hope. “I never gave up, and I still believe one hundred percent that there’s a reason I am the way I am. I just have to find it.”

Zaire swayed where he stood, hit by a fist of both tenderness and awe for the unyielding strength of this woman who appeared so frail. While he’d conceded, surrendered to the darkness, she had fought on alone, always believing there was something better. Always believing she’d find him. He wasn’t worthy of her. Maybe that was why they’d met when they did—after he had fallen too far and their match was impossible. Either way, he could not regret having met her. To have known her even a little was an honor he didn’t deserve.

“You are…” His throat was thick with emotion, making his voice emerge hoarsely. He brushed a curl from her eye and trailed a fingertip down the delicate line of her jaw. “Remarkably extraordinary.”

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the affection there shot a spike through his chest. “I believe there’s a valid reason behind your nature, too.”

He dropped his hand and wrapped it around his sword hilt, a cold reminder of his purpose: teach her what he could before leaving. Fostering fantasy would only hurt her. He rolled to his feet before he changed his mind and instead pulled her close. “Sometimes, a monster is simply that…a monster.”

Quinn huffed and stood as well, clearly annoyed. “Everyone has darkness inside. Deciding whether to be human or give in is a daily choice, sometimes minute by minute, choosing to keep it caged or release it.”

Zaire made his tone harsh and unyielding. “The V’alkara are monsters in human skin, and the faster you accept that fact, the more likely it is you’ll survive when you meet the next one. The world would be better off without any of us.” He held her gaze. “Me included.”

She stepped close, and her breath skated over his chin, warm and intimate. “There’s nothing you can ever do to convince me of that.”

He unleashed his demon smile and leaned down until his mouth was less than a breath from hers. “It will be my pleasure, Quinn, to prove how wrong you are.”