Twenty-one

Quinn blinked her eyes open and tried to make sense of her surroundings. A mountain of pillows beneath her, bright, colorful light from stained glass windows, lofty ceilings…Steph’s church. Her stomach growled, a demand she ignored while she put the events of her last hours into order.

Zaire had met her in the dream, and they’d practiced V’alkara power plays. He’d kissed her until her curls straightened. Her mouth tingled at the memory. Then he’d left. Cold swept the warmth away. She’d found Braden, grabbed that man, and—

She’d not only killed him, but also destroyed half his face.

Her stomach cramped, and she waited for the nausea to settle.

“Why a well?” Zaire’s deep, symphonic voice came from behind her, drawing her away from her thoughts. Well. The word pushed her straight back to the image of the V’alkara’s corpse floating in the water beside her. “Are demons too commonplace to frighten you any longer?”

She exhaled, long and slow, and rolled over. Only inches away, Zaire reclined on the pillows, his long legs stretched out, his powerful hands laced over his flat stomach as though he’d been there the entire night. A delicious shiver rolled in her blood. The mysterious tie between them was a palpable, simmering entity that ignited every cell and stirred her soul awake. Once again, he’d found her when she was alone, isolated, and terrified. He’d slipped into her nightmares and protected her when she couldn’t defend herself.

He lay there, one eyebrow arched expectantly, waiting for her response. The colors danced on his black clothes and harsh face as if he watched her from some watery, underworld realm. In all her fantasies, she’d never imagined that meeting him would make her feel so alive. Make her feel so right. It was like he was the missing spice from her recipe, and every mouthful until him had been bland—not terrible, just not enough. And now…

His winter forest scent infused her senses, and her throat tightened, thick with unspoken emotions. She loved him more than she’d thought possible. It was crazy. Technically, she’d only known him a few days, yet she couldn’t imagine existing without him. In the tornado of uncertainties swirling around her life, she recognized one fact with absolute confidence: no matter what her purpose may be or how long it took to figure that out, she belonged with him.

“Answer the question, Quinn.” His raven eyes narrowed, glittering and intense.

“I was ninety-nine percent sure you’d be gone when I woke up.”

He rolled and faced her so suddenly, she almost squeaked. Their faces close, he held her gaze, his breath warm on her mouth. “The well,” he murmured. “Why?”

She swallowed the huge knot in her windpipe, dark memories bobbing at the edges of her mind. “I fell into one when I was a kid, and no one found me until hours later. It’s safe to say my claustrophobia might be somewhat related to that incident.” She shrugged one shoulder, trying to play down her greatest fear. “Everyone has scars.”

His menacing expression deepened. “And the cadaver serving as your companion?”

It was so weird to have someone else know every detail about her nightmare, to have been there with her.

To have saved her.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue.” All the love for him that she kept bottled up through the years of waiting and searching and wondering leaked free. She caressed the length of his jaw, needing to touch him in some small way.

His black eyelashes swept down for a moment, as though he fought some internal battle. He captured her hand between his and brought it to his lips for a soft, lingering kiss. “Focus, dreamcaster.” His voice was huskier than normal. “We have much to discuss and little time to do it. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

“Two days?” She sat up fast. That couldn’t be right. She never slept longer than a few hours at a time. Yet, she felt…refreshed. And she really had to pee. “Are you messing with me?”

“I hazarded your wrath by taking control and keeping your dreams at bay while you slept. It was a risk.” One corner of his mouth crooked up. “Messing with a control freak.”

Quinn blinked. After the well, she couldn’t remember a single nightmare. For the first time ever, she’d slept like a normal person. Zaire had done that for her. Her heart squeezed tightly enough to steal her breath, and she gently brushed his hair from his forehead. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

Not waiting for his answer, she scurried off to the bathroom and took care of business two days overdue. While she washed her hands, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was squashed on one side from sleeping, and she fluffed it back to life. She scrubbed at the sleep-wrinkles on her face, but they couldn’t detract from the glow of her skin. For the first time in her life, not a single splotch darkened the hollows beneath her eyes. She looked—Quinn smiled—good. Rested. Alive. More proof that Zaire was vital to her health. Essential to her heart. And if he wouldn’t listen to reason, she’d show him instead.

After a quick toothbrush session, she applied some lip-gloss and deodorant, smoothed her V-neck sweater, straightened her jeans, and lifted her chin, ready for battle.

Zaire was exactly as she left him, stretched out on the pillows like some dark, exotic creature straight from the best dream. He watched her approach with shimmering eyes, one hand tucked behind his head.

Holding his curious gaze, she marched straight to him and straddled his hips. She sank onto her knees, right into his heat and strength, and as his lips parted in surprise, she leaned down and stole any protest with her mouth.

She kissed him gently, the barest caress of her lips on his, indulging in the velvet softness of him, the sweet hint of his breath. Simply touching him ignited her blood, but riding his hips, his big hands slowly sliding up the outside of her thighs, set her on fire.

He sat up abruptly, and his arm wrapped around her, holding her so fiercely against him that she could barely catch her breath. His free hand delved into her hair and held her captive. A low, savage noise rumbled in his chest as his tongue slid against hers, a velvet demand for more that hit her right between the thighs.

Quinn gasped and wriggled on his lap, digging her fingernails into his back. She was burning, needed her clothes off, needed his skin against hers, needed him closer, possessing her body and heart and soul.

In tune with her silent pleas, he took her mouth with wild hunger, each stroke deep and luscious. His hand dropped to her derriere, urging her hips against his in a subtle rhythm that ripped a moan from her throat and made her entire body throb. Never had she craved a man like this. A single touch and she was addicted. Existence without him now was impossible. She had wanted him for so long, and finally, finally they were in the same space, on the same page. Together.

She threw back her head as Zaire trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck, and when his teeth clamped on to her shoulder in a not quite painful bite, she sucked in a breath. “I love you.”

Zaire froze. He lifted his head, and whatever expression he’d worn seconds ago vanished beneath a blank canvas, all emotion wiped clean. He released her as if the contact scorched his hands.

Everything inside her went numb. She hadn’t intended to reveal her epiphany so soon, but once the words were out, she refused to take them back. She held his gaze. “Don’t. Don’t say there isn’t and never will be a we. Don’t say I’m better off without you.” Although her heart jerked a battered beat, she chained her hands behind his neck and lifted her chin. “I’ve always loved you, even though I didn’t know your name and wasn’t sure you actually existed. Since the moment you showed up in my nightmares, I’ve been yours.”

He closed his eyes, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I wish I could give you what you want, what you deserve,” he rasped. “I’m incapable of love, Quinn.” His eyes opened, a cold, starless void. “I would destroy for you, die for you. I need you in ways I never expected, but not love. Never love.”

She released his neck and sat back on her heels, stunned. “That’s such…” Coming up with the perfect word wasn’t working, so she went with one that fit close enough. “Crap. You don’t decide what I want or deserve, and if you don’t love me, why are you still here?” She poked him in the chest, hard enough to hurt. He didn’t even flinch, the jerk. “Why did you rip through my dreams to free me from my own private hell?” She poked him again. “Why didn’t you let me drown?” Another poke. “Why did you protect me from my nightmares all those years ago?” Poke, poke, poke. “And if you’re incapable of love, why do you care if the Crows have Braden?”

He straightened, and his lip curled in a silent snarl. His black eyes were ruthless.

“Answer the question!” Quinn fisted his shirt and pulled him closer, ignoring how the shadows in the church corners seemed to curl. Her delusions could take a number. “Why, Zaire?”

A growl rumbled from him, and there was nothing human about the noise. It was directly from the darkest cranny of the pit, the single most menacing sound she’d ever heard.

Chills rippled from her scalp to her toes. The instinct to run struck like an electric shock to her system. All the darkness she’d endured in the well resurfaced and dread brushed a cold finger down her neck, calling her to despair. Shadows eclipsed the chapel, killing the colorful light until only shards remained.

Zaire’s eyes gleamed in the sudden gloom, black and dead.

She gulped in a breath and, gritting her teeth, eased closer, the tip of her nose almost grazing his. “Bring it on, Prince.” Her voice would rival any rattlesnake hiss. “I know what I want, what I deserve, and you’re it. That’s not going to change—ever.”

The chokehold of dark emotions dimmed, but from Zaire’s scary expression, he had a long way to go before capitulation.

“Love isn’t a weakness, something to be manipulated and feared.” Quinn held his glare. “It’s strength and hope and joy, everything precious and good in the world, and once you find it, you fight for it. You fight until there’s nothing left but breath and bone. I’ll never stop fighting for you.”

“I can’t love you,” he snarled, the vehemence there fluttering the curl near her chin. “A year ago, maybe there was some small hope. Now, there’s no future for you with me. I can’t protect you properly without Changing, and I can’t Change without risking everything. My time is close to an end.” His jaw popped. “I’ll never regret my last days with you, dearling. Never. But the second I love you, you’ll be taken from me, like Jenny.” He choked on his sister’s name. “And Braden. I prefer that you live.”

“I refuse to believe it’s too late.” Tears pricking her eyes, she leaned in and locked her arms around his rigid body. He thought loving someone was some sort of punishment, that the world had taken everything and all that was left to him was death. How could she make him understand that as long as they were alive, there was hope? “I remember what you said in the well,” she murmured against his collarbone. “You think I never doubted you? Wondered if you’d remember me, thought of me, cared about me? Moments of doubt can’t destroy hope. Don’t give up on me again, Z. I can’t go back to a world without you in it.”

In slow increments, the tension drained from his big body, and he finally rested his cheek on her head. The closest thing she’d get to an apology. “Life was much less complicated without a dreamcaster.”

Quinn smiled against his shirt. “But not as fun.”

With a sigh of surrender, his arms went around her and nestled her close to his heat and solid strength.

“Your misapprehensions don’t prevent us from…” Quinn cleared her throat and ignored the flames creeping into her face. “You know.”

Zaire pulled back and studied her, eyebrow arched. “Dearling.” One corner of his mouth ticked up as he tucked a curl behind her ear. “You are one of the two people in this world I respect. Sating my physical needs with you while knowing I must leave at any time would tarnish what we have. I refuse to do that.”

“And I refuse to let you go.” She swallowed hard, hating even the thought of him leaving. Loosely, she looped her arms around his neck. “Life is short and unpredictable, whether or not you’re V’alkara, a dreamcaster, or Joe Smith down the road. Setting your focus on the inevitable end instead of everything in between makes life flat, not rich as it should be.”

Wearing a bewildered look, he shook his head and brushed kisses on her forehead, her eyelids, nose, and chin. “Z and Q. What a twisted pair.”

“Best letters in the alphabet.” She grinned. “We’ll put it on matching coffee cups.” The remainder of last night’s dream made a comeback, and she jumped to her feet. As much as she wanted to stay in Zaire’s embrace, she needed to know if Braden had been as real as he seemed. “Do me a favor. Get your coffee cup. It’s important.”

His brow furrowed and he looked at her as if she were losing it. Instead of voicing all the questions flashing in his eyes, he stood and wandered to the kitchen down the hall. A minute later, he returned and stopped in the middle of the sanctuary, frowning at Wolfgang, who leaned against his ankle, purring.

“My mug.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “It’s gone.”

She jumped in place, clapping. It had worked. She’d taken something through the dream and deposited it somewhere else. “I gave it to Braden. In the dream. And now it’s gone. Isn’t that the coolest thing ever?”

Zaire was at her side in an instant, gripping her elbows to hold her still, looming in her face. “What did you see?”

She sucked in a breath and pushed her excitement down. “He was sleeping. You were right about the concrete—he’s in some sort of cellar remodeled into a basic kitchen. There were dishes on the shelves, plates and cups, a sink. A barred window too small to be useful except to creepy-crawlies. I didn’t try to wake him up. I set the cup beside him, opened the door, and—”

The surprised expression of the V’alkara flashed in her memory. Her stomach turned. The face of the man she’d sentenced to death by dragging him through the dream. Or had she taken him from reality into her dream? Either way, he was toast. Because of her. She steadied herself against Zaire’s sturdy form, her head spinning.

“And?” Zaire pressed.

“The corpse in the well with me,” she said, having trouble breathing. “He was a V’alkara I found in the hallway. I grabbed him because it was either bring him with or tip the Crows off.” She laid a hand on her rolling stomach. “He didn’t survive the trip.”

His grip verged on painful, his eyes blazing black. “And where do you suppose the missing parts of him went to, dreamcaster?” He released her and muttered a vicious curse in the same language he used to exorcise the V’alkara in her head. It vibrated through her as if her bones were strings plucked by merciless fingers. “I told you I knew who had taken Braden. I planned to find him once you woke up.”

If part of the V’alkara’s body had been left outside Braden’s cell… Cold shuddered through Quinn, so hard her knees shook. What if she’d endangered him anyway?

“By now, the Crows are searching for me, suspicious of why I haven’t returned.” Fear and frustration strangled his voice as he paced toward the stained-glass windows and back again, a long, lean shadow skirting the light. “Because of my disappearance, they’ll be particularly alert to the smallest anomaly surrounding Braden, and a missing guard will be more than enough.” He halted and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, every breath ragged. “Why didn’t you wait, Quinn?”

“I didn’t plan it.” She wobbled to the pew and sank onto it before her legs gave out. “Your coffee cup appeared in the sand, I picked it up, and then I was there. With Braden.” Her hand shaking, she raked her fingers through her curls. “I only meant to find something useful for getting him back, not—” She choked and braced her hands on her thighs, trying not to hyperventilate.

Wolfgang trotted to her and jumped onto the pew, pressing his weight against her side. At least the cat loved her openly.

Another curse drifted from Zaire, and he was suddenly beside her, his heat curling around her. “I understand you meant no harm.” While quiet, his voice trembled with trapped emotions. “But I fear the repercussions. I can’t delay hunting down the Crow who took Braden any longer. I’ll have answers from him, and…”

Quinn completed the sentence in her head. And hope Braden is still alive.