Twenty-eight

Demon blood caked his hands, and something disgustingly squishy was lodged beneath his shirt, but Zaire didn’t pause or slow down. Rage trembled hotly in his veins, and it took every scrap of strength not to detonate, taking Quinn with him. She had no clue how close she’d come to being destroyed, to being eternally chained in the darkness with him. His grip on his newly acquired sword tightened, choking. He wanted to throttle her, shake her until her teeth rattled some sense into her skull, threaten her so she understood how much she’d terrified him, facing his demons alone, naming them as her own.

Fully claiming him in the process.

The connection between them, once fragile and nothing more than an ethereal thread too fine to consistently sense now thrummed with awareness. Whether she meant to or not, along with the demon prince, she’d claimed him as her V’alkara.

A part of him—a part he snarled into submission—reveled in it. Yet the terror of what she’d done overpowered that joy, became a poison in his blood, a still-steaming, bitter brand on his soul. There was no escape for her now. When he fell, she’d fall with him. He jerked to a halt right in front of her, breathing hard.

Quinn’s cheeks were wet, not from blood or sweat. Tears.

The roaring rage stumbled. And tripped again when she chewed on her lip. Every wave of fury curled and retracted. She’d been weeping. For him.

Instead of jabbing his sword at her as he’d intended, he dropped to his knees before her. Without saying a word, he pulled her tight against him and pressed his ear to her wildly beating heart, breathing her in.

She clung to him, shaking, and pushed her face into his hair, muffling her sob. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Stubborn, reckless dreamcaster.” He released her, too fast. She fell to her knees, and he grasped her hips, steadying her. As gently as he could, he swiped her tears with his thumb. “When I found you, too late, I wanted only for you to live. Denying our connection was the one gift I could offer you, and now it’s destroyed.”

“Did you kill the demon?” She fisted his shirt as if he might flee. Never a good sign.

“Not for lack of trying.” He slipped a snarl into his tone. “We fell for minutes, an hour, I’m not sure. The demon hit bottom first. I landed on top of it, expecting its sword to impale me.” He pulled her cross out of his pocket. “Instead, I found a dead demon and this embedded in its eye.” One side of his mouth ticked up. “Nice shot, dearling.”

She bowed her head and released a long breath. When she looked up again, her dark eyes sparkled. “It’s not too late. There’s a way to reverse everything.”

He skimmed her skull, searching for any bumps or injuries, any sign of the head wound she obviously incurred while battling his demons. Nothing could be done about his own condition.

“Are you listening to me?” She caught his wrists. “I claimed your demons. Every one of them. They can’t torment you because they’re not yours anymore. They’re mine. I went reverse-V’alkara on you.” She grinned. “Dreamcaster style.”

Impossible. He went very still, his pulse a recurring thunderclap in his ears. Not possible, yet the voices in his head were silent. He drew inward, searching for the nightmares stored in his mind.

Nothing.

Zaire gripped her shoulders, hardly daring to believe. “Explain.”

So she did, telling him what she’d learned since he left her, the fairy’s suspicious appearance in Isaac’s house, and her wild theories. With each word from her lovely mouth, pressure coiled around his spine, threatening to snap. No creature would offer to help a V’alkara without exacting a price. What would this new enemy ask of Quinn? Of him? Or maybe it was a different game set in motion by the Crows or the Faction. Perhaps even the V’alkara. He fell from one trap into yet another, an endless cycle with no escape.

Quinn sat back on her heels and narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t give me that look. We’re in this together now, no going back. It’s do or die, and you can’t break my claim, so deal with it.”

Zaire studied her fierce, dark eyes, the dried blood on her face and hands and clothes, reminders of the battles she’d fought. Battles she’d fought for him. Something inside him clicked, so forcefully he was surprised that Quinn didn’t hear it. The tension in his shoulders uncoiled as he surrendered to the truth. No matter what happened now, their fates were connected, and whether or not the fairy’s notion was correct, he couldn’t deny the initial proof. His demons were gone, Quinn’s hold a permanent anchor deep in his core. All he could do was yield.

And hope. As she had unrelentingly done for him.

With shaking hands, he lifted Quinn’s cross over her head. Settling it around her neck where it belonged, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Not long ago, I believed true freedom was only possible in solitude, that any emotional connection to another was a weakness to be twisted by an enemy. I’m accustomed to facing my demons alone, waging other men’s wars, fighting for my freedom.” His voice rasped with emotion, but he no longer cared. Every part of him belonged to her. “No one has ever fought for me. Not even Jenny.”

Quinn’s mouth set in a wobbling line, and new tears glistened in her eyes.

“I spent the entirety of my life yearning to find you, even when I knew I’d have to let you go.” He cupped her face with both hands, and stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Because of who and what I am, I resigned myself to emptiness, but since that first dream, when you drew me out of the shadows and gave me hope in a decomposing world, I was utterly yours. And now that you’re mine…”

He leaned in and took her mouth, soft and lingering, a promise that he’d spend whatever days he had left weaving new dreams for her to make up for the ones they’d lost in their time apart. She’d risked everything to be with him, destroyed his demons. Rejecting her claim was unthinkable.

When he finally released her, Quinn blinked slowly as if waking up from a century of enchanted sleep. Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy.

Zaire drew a long breath and raked his fingers over his scalp. “I dreamed of this conversation happening very differently. In bed. With you wrapped around me. Words between long, hot kisses.”

Pink colored her cheeks, and she bit her lip. “I thought you said V’alkara don’t dream.”

“I said nothing of fantasies, dearling.” He smiled, heat rising to a simmer in his blood. “And now that you’re mine, I’m going to give you a taste of what it means to belong to me.”

He unleashed his ancient, wicked smile, enjoying her responsive shiver, and then kissed her as he’d wanted to since the moment she darkened the doorway of a Montana bedroom—fiercely, freely, without fear of what may come.

He didn’t care about the black demon blood caked on her face, neck, and arms, or that she reeked of the pit. She was his, and he’d take her in any form he could. As her luscious mouth opened beneath his, a lifetime of longing crackled and coiled through him, a burning need that only the woman in his arms could temper. The sudden combination of Quinn, freedom, and dreams remade blended in his blood, a heady intoxication.

She arched into him, her soft curves a sweet, perfect fit against his solid power. The satin slide of her tongue with his shot fire along every nerve. The hardening of his body verged on painful, so demanding that he could hardly think straight. With a throaty little moan, she threw her arms around his neck, and he nearly exploded.

Zaire burrowed one hand into her hair and gripped the curve of her hip with the other, holding her to him, savoring her apple flavor. Her crisp, autumn scent, her enticing heat. With an effort, he chained his lust, locked down his need, and forced his resistant muscles to relax. This was neither the place nor the time to fulfill an eternity of desire.

“Dearling,” he panted. “You destroy me.” He eased back and rested his forehead on hers, his breath ragged. An aching beat throbbed through his entire body. “When I take you, when I secure your claim, it will not be in a dream. Or in sand soaked with demon blood.”

“Right. Sand would be…awkward.” Quinn gasped, clutching his shoulders as though that were all that held her upright. Never mind that he still had one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, the other tangled in her curls. “And we need to talk.”

“We do.” He couldn’t resist nibbling along her jawline to her ear and licking her lobe. She sucked in a breath and melted into him again, and he regretfully released her. She was too tempting to hold tight and simultaneously think of anything besides how much he wanted to peel off her clothes and taste every inch of her along the way, losing himself in her until nothing separated them.

Touching her wasn’t helping. With a burst of willpower, Zaire forced himself to stand. His blood pounded in time with his raging pulse. He swiped a hand down his face and strove for control.

Quinn blew out a long breath and fanned herself. “Are you sure you aren’t Hot Guy for Hire’s star employee? Kiss me like that again, and I’d sign up for a daily dose no matter what your fee is.”

Satisfaction rolled through him as he imagined her responses to all the other ways he planned to demonstrate his devotion. He couldn’t help a smile. “I intend to collect on that, dreamcaster. You’d better save up.”

“How do you expect me to think when you smile at me like that?” Her dark eyes glittered. “Stop flirting with me. We have a nephew to rescue.”

The thought of Braden, alone and helpless, his condition and location unknown, cooled all his desire. Relinquishing Quinn’s claim on him wasn’t an option, but he had no idea how to both keep her and save Braden. His stomach twisted at the thought of how the Crows might be tormenting his nephew even now.

“Don’t go all grim reaper on me just yet.” She reached up and twined her fingers with his. A gentle tug drew him down to sit on the sand beside her. “We made a plan.”

A dark, ugly knot tightened inside him. “We?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“I suspect not,” he said, a snarl coloring each word.

“You could’ve told me that some dreamcasters choose to be with their V’alkara and manage to survive. Happily.” She lifted her chin and gave him an accusing glare. “Among other things.”

Zaire kept his expression neutral. He’d rather stab himself in the throat than admit that Quinn being anywhere near the V’alkara and their dreamcasters could be a good thing.

“I met Kalila.”

A growl rumbled, deep and strong enough to make the sand shift. Kalila. Black’s dreamcaster. It all made sense now. That otherworldly creature who conspired with Black every so often must be the fairy Quinn referred to, which meant that this was a scheme set in motion by the V’alkara. Glorious. The situation worsened more with each breath. “I’m sure she was the epitome of helpful. For a price.”

Quinn stiffened. “Yeah, she was. She sent Gwen to me, and without Gwen, I wouldn’t have found you. Or Braden.”

The breath caught in his lungs, so sharp he nearly choked. “You found Braden?”

“Apology accepted.” She grinned. “But here’s the deal. Our plan is in play, and getting you back was only the first part.”

Zaire forced himself to ask, sure he didn’t want to know the rest. He didn’t temper the bite in his voice. “What is the next step in the fairy’s scheme?”

“It’s mostly my plan.” Quinn sniffed and jutted her chin at that defiant angle he both admired and dreaded. “Gwen simply enhanced the framework. She possesses a frightening amount of knowledge about the V’alkara.” She made a soothing, gentle circle with her thumb on his hand. “Not to mention you.”

Gwendolyn was a V’alkara sympathizer and worked with Black. That alone made her an enemy.

“Don’t scowl like you want to kill something.” Quinn nudged his shoulder with hers. “I know you don’t trust the V’alkara.”

He snorted.

“They’re not the same as the tyrant who raised you. The dreamcasters are there by choice, and from what I saw, there was no coercion, no torture.”

He suspected that much from the limited contact he’d had with the V’alkara since the new White came into power. But the V’alkara nature was difficult to control, let alone overcome, and old ways died hard. He wouldn’t trust the different regime until it had been tested with time.

“They let you see what they wanted you to see, Quinn,” he said as gently as he could while scorched by anger. “I’ve done enough of the same to know, and a V’alkara’s essence doesn’t change, no matter the master. The Crows are proof of that.”

Quinn jerked her hand free of his. “They’re not the Crows, people can change, and I want to know more about who I am and where I belong.”

“You made it clear you belong with me.” He let an evil smile crawl into his expression. “Is it that not who you are? My dreamcaster?”

She didn’t look impressed. “Smooth, and nice try. When we’re done saving Braden, checking them out can’t hurt anything, right?” Her slender fingers toyed with the chain of her cross. “Besides, have you thought about a safe place for Braden?”

“You believe it’s safe with the new V’alkara regime?” He held her gaze, ensuring she understood the gravity. “Safe is not an applicable word.”

“I’m safe with you.” She cupped his jaw with one small hand, and a shiver of desire swept through him, hot and hungry. “I didn’t need to speak with Kalila long to figure out that she adores Lydon. And he, her. If she believed creating a community with other dreamcasters and V’alkara was a mistake, do you honestly think she’d stick around?” She exhaled, her breath warm on his mouth. Her dark eyes gleamed with hope. “You’re right, I don’t know much about your kind or mine, but I want the chance to find out, and my gut tells me this is the way.”

Zaire fisted his hands on his thighs to resist touching her. Never again would he be the one to destroy her hope or optimism. Whatever she wished for, he would use everything at his disposal to make her dreams come true while shielding her and annihilating any creature that looked at her wrong. And the fact that she considered Braden’s future, their future together, warmed another sliver of his black soul. He kept his scowl on anyway.

“If you wish to investigate the V’alkara’s new community,” he said, holding her gaze so she’d comprehend his sincerity, “I will be there with you, every second.”

She flung her arms around his neck, so suddenly and with such exuberance that she knocked him back in the sand, her small body atop his, her kisses fiercely adoring.

Renewed heat flowed like lava through his body, and he rolled her under him, the need to finalize their bond overpowering. He grazed her throat with his teeth, her pulse fluttering as her hands clenched and unclenched on his back. “You’re mine, Quinn.”

She moaned, a wordless affirmation, and the vibration thrummed through him. Gently but firmly, he bit the crook of her neck and licked away the sting. He shook with restraint, her breath warm and sweet and seductive on his skin. Now was not the time, but he wanted. Damnation. He wanted.

Quinn wriggled beneath him and made a tiny noise—maybe his name—and he jerked back before he gave in. She groaned again, this time in protest, and her gaze met his. Pure, wild desire sparked in her eyes, and only by some miracle did he resist satisfying that need.

“Not yet,” he gasped, heat pounding in his veins. Even speaking was difficult with her looking at him that way, as if the only thing in the world she wanted was for him to strip every stitch of clothing off and feast on her flesh with his mouth, his tongue, and just enough teeth to make her moan. “Not now, not in this place or the dream.”

“Why?” She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, and he shuddered.

“We’ve spent too much of our time together in nightmares, where details can be manipulated.” He dragged in another steadying breath. “When I make you mine, it will be real and true. It will be when we have no pressing matters.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips along her clavicle. “It will be when I have enough time to discover every inch of you.” Before her moan overwhelmed him again, he caressed her lower lip with his thumb and sat up. “It will be after Braden is safe.”

Quinn blinked and shook her head, as though clearing a haze. “Right. Of course.” With a last, long look at his mouth, she shivered and scrambled to her feet, wisely moving out of his reach. “Speaking of safe.” She gave him her brightest smile, the one that foretold ill tidings, usually just for him. “You’re not going to like phase two of my plan either.”

He steeled himself, prepared for the worst.

“You have to stay with the Crows as their prisoner while Gwen and I rescue Braden.”

He was up in a blink, looming over her. “That’s not happening.”

She planted a hand on her cocked hip and gave him the iconic Quinn idiot stare. “If you escape the Crows right now, the first thing they’ll do is hide Braden somewhere deep and dark.”

He clenched his jaw, unable to deny it.

“They don’t expect anything currently. Gwen knows where Braden is, and she has a personal desire to introduce her knives to a couple of Crows. While she’s distracting them, I’ll whisk Braden away to safety.” She twirled her cross and tried to scowl. It wasn’t particularly effective. “I’m not helpless.”

He gripped the pommel of the demon prince’s sword, frustration curling through him. Allowing his dreamcaster to put herself in danger once again, without him, went against every nuance of his nature.

“Even though we’ll be apart for a little while longer, we’re doing this together. We’re a team.” Quinn slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him with dark, liquid eyes. “I feel unstoppable when you’re with me, but without your cooperation, the plan will fail.” Her voice was soft, coaxing, dancing on the edge of compulsion. “Besides, I have a vested interest in my safety now. I found you.”

The anger dropped to a slow simmer. She believed him remaining a prisoner of the Crows was important, enough that she’d try to compel him. And he believed in her. She was right. Before her, he’d done whatever it took to keep the people he loved safe without consulting them because he thought it was the best way to protect them.

He sifted through her dark curls, his throat tight. “Belonging to me does not imply ownership. It’s my privilege. I have fumbled through my life alone, depending on only myself, and it merely brought me sorrow. If this is the course you choose, then I’m with you.” His voice hardened. “But I’ll never stop protecting you.”

Quinn laid her head on his chest. “That’s not what I’m asking. I love your protectiveness. And despite popular V’alkara opinion, it’s possible to be protective without controlling every step I make.”

His lips twitched, heading for a smile. “Truly?”

Her laugh was muffled in his shirt. “Insufferable Neanderthal.”

“Scary warrior princess.” At her sigh, he kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for the gift of silence. For starters.”

She planted her chin on his sternum and looked up. Her smile made all the shadows slip back into their corners.

“Since you stole the demon form I was using before being so insolently dragged into your dream,” he smirked at her unrepentant snort, “when I return to consciousness, I’ll resume my human shape. The Crows will know something happened.” The fact that all those forms were now in the safekeeping of Quinn’s nightmares instead of his head didn’t seem real. With her claim, he’d gained access to all her dreams and their creatures without absorbing their darkness. A thrill coursed through him. His match. His dreamcaster.

His love.

“You don’t think I kissed a demon just for fun, do you?” She wriggled her eyebrows.

“Since I met you, I’ve been questioning your choice in romantic partners.”

“You’re right, I have excellent taste.” Grinning, she tapped her head with one slender finger. “Why don’t we let my new pal out again to play with the Crows?”