Thirty-five

“Just a little farther.” Quinn tugged on Zaire’s hand, trying to hurry him along. It was like dragging a boulder. Giving up, she looped her arm through his and pressed her cheek against his biceps as they strolled through the deserted streets of Ainsley.

With Braden and his newest hero Alun as their exuberant guides, they’d spent the day exploring the new V’alkara community. Once the rundown section of a town called Reedsport, it was now a V’alkara-owned suburb, thanks to Duhnle’s deep pockets. The V’alkara had bought all the buildings for blocks in every direction, all the way to the river, creating a secret society in plain sight. Humans were allowed in, no problem, but without a specially crafted ring, no V’alkara could pass through the installed underground boundaries—or the strategically placed guards in their various forms. But anyone could freely leave. It was an invisible fortress without any of the former regime prison elements.

It made Quinn feel like she was finally part of something good, that she finally fit somewhere that wanted to help other people like her.

And Zaire.

“Here it is.” Without pausing, she pulled him through the door of the abandoned warehouse that had caught her eye earlier. Their steps stirred clouds of dust, and she bit back a sneeze.

“Here is what?” Frowning, Zaire came to a halt in the middle of the huge, empty room. His hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, he lifted his gaze to the bare rafters and exposed pipes, down to the grimy windows and unswept concrete floor.

Quinn kept going to the window and crooked her finger at him. She wiped away the layer of filth, enough to see what lay outside, and waited for him to stoop for a look. “I know it needs work.” She pressed close so she could take advantage of the limited view…and the excuse to be close to Zaire. “But imagine the possibilities.”

Below the warehouse, the river flowed, fast with winter rain, flanked by green on either side. On the opposite bank, only trees met the clear afternoon sky. The rush of water murmured past the warehouse walls, calm and comforting.

“Picture the view at night, with moonlight dancing on the water, the stars sparkling above,” she whispered. When she turned from the window to gauge his reaction, he was staring at her, black fire in his eyes. “I want to buy it from D. I want to live here. All the open space, it’s perfect for twelve-year-old boys and temperamental cats, claustrophobes, and banned princes.”

His face fell into neutral and a void snuffed the flames in his eyes.

“Dreamcasting for Dummies might take some time,” she said carefully, needing to figure out what had shut him down. “And I want to work on my particular location skills, to find other dreamcasters. I could help them.”

His jaw tightened.

She touched his cheek. “Talk to me. You don’t like my idea? I think it’s only fair to get your opinion since you promised to discuss all Quinn protection plans prior to implementation.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, there and gone. “Whatever you wish, you should do.” He paused, and the teasing gleam vanished. “Unless it puts you in danger. Then, you should not do it without consulting me first.”

“That’s not what’s bothering you, is it?” She slipped her arms around his waist, holding his gaze. “Tell me. I can take it, I promise. Small doesn’t mean breakable, remember?”

“How could I forget?” His smile, while only a whisper, was genuine this time. “It seems you’ve found your purpose with the V’alkara. Braden is safe. I’m free.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“For so long,” he said quietly, “I thought a future with you, any semblance of peace and joy was impossible. Breaking away from that conclusion is…difficult. I lost you once, your light, the hope you gave me. I forced myself to believe it was for the best, that keeping out of your nightmares, pushing you from my thoughts,” he swallowed, “giving you up, would keep you safe from the V’alkara. The time with you was a brief gift I cherished deeply, knowing I would never have it again.”

She blinked away tears. How many times had she wanted to hold onto the nightmares just to feel him near?

“I feel that when the sun rises you’ll vanish with the darkness, and I’ll find that none of this is real.” He traced her cheekbone with one finger, devastatingly gentle. “I’ll open my eyes and find a cage or chains or worse.” He released a shaky breath and dropped his hand. “I fear the moment this dream shatters, because it’s too good to possibly be true.”

“Zaire.” She took his hand, kissed his callused palm, and held it to her cheek. “Impossible is only a dream away from reality.” Gazing into his depthless eyes, she blurted the words that were on her heart. “Marry me.”

He stiffened. His mouth opened, closed.

Her heart dropped to her toes. He didn’t want to take the next step. The poor guy could barely make sense of a real life, and here she was, flinging the M word at him. And that was all after he’d told her love could never enter the equation on his end. She should’ve kept her big mouth shut and maintained the status quo, given him time to reconsider the error of his love speculations. “You don’t have to say yes.” Her voice cracked. “I get it.”

“What do you get, dearling?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice. When she went to draw away, he latched onto her wrists.

Why did she have to fall for a V’alkara who made her spill all her awkward emotions? She dropped her gaze to his powerful throat, needing something else to focus on. If she kept looking into his eyes, she’d drown there and never surface. “You don’t do love, and marriage kind of implies—”

He jerked her against him and kissed her so fast, she squeaked into his mouth, which only resulted in his tongue tangling with hers. Heat erupted in her blood, a feral need that only Zaire could fulfill, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He broke away and peppered kisses along her jaw.

She closed her eyes and moaned. Maybe reciprocated love was overrated. As long as he kissed her like that…

Wait a second. He wasn’t supposed to kiss her without consequences. Severe consequences. Weeklong consequences.

“Do you trust me, Quinn?” His teeth raked her earlobe.

She shivered. “Of course.”

“Glorious.” Before she could squeak again, he Changed into a flood of darkness.

Surrounded by unyielding black, the world seemed to fall out from under her feet, and when the darkness cleared, she was in Dany’s, close to the bar, on the receiving end of startled looks from Ella and Dax.

“Wait for me.” Zaire brushed his knuckles over her mouth.

“But—”

He vanished in a flutter of wings.

“He hasn’t changed much,” Ella said with a smile, drying a glass. “Before he came to Ainsley, I met him briefly on three occasions. Every time, popping in and then zipping out, no warning. All scary.”

“He’s not that scary.” Quinn slid on the barstool beside Dax and slouched. Being ditched wasn’t the consequences she’d had in mind.

Ella’s auburn eyebrows lifted. “Maybe not to you and Braden.”

Quinn sighed and propped her chin on her fist.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Ella said, her tone understanding.

“The Shirley Temples are excellent.” Dax pulled a maraschino cherry out of his glass and popped it into his mouth. “Even after the sixth one.”

Ella snorted. “Does Zaire have a ridiculously insane sweet tooth, too? I’m thinking it’s a V’alkara trait. They crave endorphins, no matter how they come about.”

“It’s not the sugar I’m addicted to.” Dax took Ella’s hand and brought it to his lips. His blue eyes focused on his dreamcaster, bright and rapt.

Gwen was right. Stomaching the affection between a V’alkara and his dreamcaster when her V’alkara was off to locations unknown made her want to puke. “I haven’t had enough time with him to find out.” Quinn couldn’t keep the grumble from her voice. “Do you have apple cider?”

“Sure.” Cutting off her googly-eye session with Dax, Ella pulled her hand free and looked at Quinn, her cheeks flushed. “Straight or spiked?”

“Straight, for now.” If she had a second round, she’d reconsider the spike.

The door opened on a jingle, and Quinn spun, her heart rate quickening. But it wasn’t Zaire.

“Real customers,” Dax muttered, giving her a look that she understood. Act normal. No V’alkara or dreamcaster discussions with outsiders.

No Zaire, and now she couldn’t ask questions. She may be an expert at waiting, but despite the practice, one fact never changed—waiting sucked.

***

Three apple ciders later, the last one with a generous slosh of cinnamon whisky, Quinn trudged up the stairs to the loft above Dany’s. Alone. Over two hours had passed. The sun slid behind the horizon, and the pub population was steadily picking up. She was too grumpy to pretend to be friendly.

Halfway to the landing, darkness whipped around her, blinding, and she lost her balance with a yelp. When the whirlwind faded a few moments later, she wobbled, and strong arms held her up. Zaire grinned down at her, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Where were you for so long?” She poked him in the chest even as she leaned into him, breathing in his midnight winter scent.

“Here and there.” His expression was cautious, almost unsure. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her around.

They were back in the warehouse, and while most of it remained the same—dusty, empty and forlorn—one corner had been remade. Her breath caught and, as if lost in a dream, she wandered near.

A bed draped in the darkest purple rested in the center of the cleared area on a plush, white rug. The windows had been wiped clean, letting in the dancing reflection of final sunlight on water. As she got closer, laced with the underlying scents of cleaners and dust, the perfume of roses subtly infused the air. A gigantic mural of the moon glowed on one wall, somehow lit from inside.

Quinn stopped at the edge of the white rug, which looked too soft and pure to step on with shoes, and tilted her face up. Tiny, twinkling lights were wrapped in the rafters and pipes, a permanent sky full of stars. Her vision blurred with tears.

Zaire stood behind her, so close his heat pierced her clothes, branding her. “It was the closest recreation of the desert I could make on limited time.”

“It’s perfect,” she breathed, unable to tear her attention from the scene he’d created just for her, the nightmare location where he’d found her again.

“And a white rug will be less…awkward than sand.”

She covered her mouth to hide a giddy laugh. “Good call.”

“Quinn—” He swallowed, hard enough to hear. “I’ve loved you from the moment you summoned me into your dreams.”

Her heart stopped beating. Slowly, she faced him. “But you said—”

“A lie.” His eyes burning, he took her mouth in a quick, fierce, claiming kiss. “To myself.” He sucked on her lower lip, and his powerful hands gripped her hips. “To you. I have since accepted the truth.”

“The truth?” She had trouble speaking.

He eased back enough to meet her gaze. “I’d rather be both strong and weak with you than spend another day or a single night without you.” Stars flickered in his eyes. “I want to be yours in every way, by whatever ritual that will keep you with me always, and woe to any fool who dares interfere.”

“Big woe.” She couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she slipped her hands under his shirt, the contact with his scars zinging through her nerves. “I love the weird words you use sometimes. Did you know that?”

“Everything,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I love everything you are. It doesn’t matter what words you use.”

“That’s great, because your kiss just frazzled half my brain.”

He dipped his head and brought his lips to hers. “I failed you again,” he said, his breath warm on her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to kiss you until tomorrow night.”

“And now you have to face the consequences.” She lightly bit his ear, enjoying his roughened breath. “For the record, I wasn’t planning to wait until tomorrow anyway.”

Zaire’s slow, merciless smile fired all her neurons into overdrive. Faster than she could follow, he deftly swung her into his arms and onto the bed, pinning her beneath him, her wrists trapped above her head by one callused hand.

He braced himself above her, holding her gaze, his expression set to neutral. “Be certain this is what you want, Quinn.” Even his voice was emotionless, leaving the final decision ultimately to her. “Once I claim you, there’s no going back.”

“I’ve never wanted to go any direction without you.” She wriggled her hips, smiling as he stiffened, and the stars in his eyes turned fiery. “Now kiss me before I stab you again.”

All neutrality cracked as he huffed a breathy laugh and gave her a true smile. He made the mistake of releasing her wrists, and she slipped her hands beneath his shirt, digging her fingernails into his hard, muscled back as he captured her mouth once more. He broke the kiss only long enough for her to drag his shirt over his head and toss it away.

Her entire existence narrowed to his mouth on hers, his hands on her skin, unable to get close enough to the man she’d dreamed and found and claimed as her own before they met in person. She curled her fingers in his hair as his lips drifted to her neck. His teeth grazed her collarbone, dipping lower. It was all she could do not to combust right there.

“Z, shouldn’t we discuss—” She gasped as he jerked her sweatshirt up and circled her bellybutton with his tongue. “Stuff?”

“What stuff?” His stubble scraped her abdomen, sinfully sensual. The button of her borrowed jeans slipped free, followed by the zipper.

She groaned. “Why do I always have to spell out the awkward subjects?” She fisted his hair and tugged him back up. “Stuff. Prior partners, disease, birth control. You know, stuff.”

He slid his sure hands under her sweatshirt, wriggled her arms free, and pulled it over her head. His skin against hers was delicious, smooth, and heady. “Your sexual past holds no significance, dearling.” He held her gaze. “Us—here and now and tomorrow—is all that matters.”

“I don’t have a sexual past,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want anyone else.”

He blinked. “Well, then. We’ll learn together. I was once told that life without a dreamcaster may be less complicated, but not as…fun.” His smile was slow and wicked, and her entire body throbbed. In a good way. His long, callused fingers drifted under her shirt, up her abdomen, her ribs, stopping right beneath her breast. “Are you ready for some fun, Quinn?”

The rough timbre of his voice made her squirm. “I’ve been ready since you faceplanted in my kitchen.”

His hand slid between her breasts, through the neck of her T-shirt, and gently collared her throat. “You liked it when I choked you?” He nuzzled her ear, his breath warm and stirring. “Or was it having me at your mercy, handcuffed to your bed for your pleasure that you preferred?”

She spluttered even as the heat pooling low burned hotter. “Neither.” She arched her back as he cupped her breast. “Maybe both.” A groan broke free as his thumb grazed her nipple through her bra. “I don’t know. Stop talking.”

Zaire laughed against her neck, low and dark. “We’ll figure it out along the way.”

He brought his mouth back to hers, and although one hand remained at her throat, the other her breast, her shirt inched up, and as it was pushed over her head, lifting her arms with it, Quinn opened her eyes.

Shadows. They curled around her wrists, gently but firmly holding them above her head. Others removed her shoes, then her socks.

“Zaire,” she whispered.

He lifted his head. His eyes were an abyss, deep and endless. He cocked his head in that strange way, as if only now noticing the darkness caressing her. His smile was all sorts of evil. “What is the point of controlling shadows if you’re not going to use them?”

More tendrils of darkness coasted over her skin, along her bare stomach, circling her breasts, making her tremble. “That’s cheating.” Her eyes fluttered closed as they dipped lower. “Oh.” Lower. She jerked and her eyes popped open. “Oh.”

“Sorry?” He nipped her chin.

“Not sorry.” She squirmed beneath the sensation, too much, everywhere. Not enough. “Zaire,” she gasped. “Please.”

“Please what?” he purred, lethally seductive. For no experience, he seemed to know what he was doing.

“Too many clothes.” Trembling, she arched into his hand, needing more contact, more skin, more Zaire. Dark flames danced inside her, making everything ache and throb. With an insistent tug, she freed her wrists from the shadows and fumbled between them for his belt. “Off.”

Instead, he lowered his silken mouth to her stomach, and her pulse hitched. His fingers slipped behind the waistband of her jeans, much too slowly.

Quinn wriggled, restless, and when he murmured her name against her skin, she jerked upright. Panting, she unfastened her bra and threw it off, not caring that it hit the window. She met his startled gaze. “I need you now, Z.”

Shirtless, his beautiful muscles and silver scars on full display, he shifted onto his heels. His dark, heated focus traveled over every inch of her bare skin, bringing more tingles to life. “You,” he breathed, “are glorious.”

His worshipful expression edged on fanatical as he grabbed her jeans and jerked them off with one hard pull, dragging her underwear with them and leaving her naked. And then his jeans were gone, and he was cradled between her hips, his hot, heavy weight a delicious friction.

She ground against him and locked her ankles around his back, nibbling his shoulder in silent demand, her need for him a wild, snapping force that held no rationality. She’d waited for him too long to be gentle, spent too many days without him, wondering, to be hesitant. “Zaire,” she snarled in his ear. “Don’t stop.”

His powerful back shuddered beneath her hands, and he dropped his brow to hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t break me with one hand,” she growled, “and you certainly can’t break me with…that.”

“That?” His lips twitched against her cheek.

She bit his neck, hard enough to sting. “You know what I mean. That marvelously rigid part of you that’s currently driving me crazy. I want you. All of you. Every last inch of you, and if you don’t move, now, I’ll show you the meaning of hurt.”

Zaire pushed up enough to look at her, and his smile was crooked, his eyes a little glazed, but full of stars. “Bossy in bed. Never would’ve thought.”

His smile faded, and the full force of his desire, the unyielding darkness she always craved curled around her, possessive, as he took her mouth again. In one slow, unrelenting thrust, their bodies joined, and she hissed out a breath.

Immediately, he froze, his jaw tight, body trembling, his eyes dark as midnight.

“Don’t you dare.” Quinn dug her fingernails into his shoulders and held his gaze with a confidence he couldn’t doubt. “You’re…a perfect fit.”

His laugh was strained as he kissed her temple. “Elegant way of putting it.”

Her heart swelled. She loved it when he laughed. “I’ll show you where to put it—” She moaned as he moved. “Never mind. I think you got it.”

He laughed again, true and free, as though finally unleashing himself. Then his mouth found hers, and they were a tangle of teeth and tongues and limbs. As he moved inside her, faster, faster, her fingers tight in his hair, his breath hot on her skin, the shadows caressed her, claiming her as their own, and that fragile thread that had mysteriously connected them since childhood, frayed over years of doubt and longing but never severed, thrummed through her. Deepening, attaching to her soul. Strengthening to an unbreakable cable. Zaire was hers—truly hers—as she had always been his.

A slow shudder built inside, an ember to a blaze to an inferno, bright as stars in a midnight sky. When she shattered around him and the world splintered into a thousand white-hot fireworks, Zaire fell with her.

***

“This,” Quinn murmured some time later, drowsy in his arms. “This is what it’s like to be completely accepted.” She yawned and snuggled closer to his side. “Known.”

“Loved.” Zaire pulled her on top of him and pushed her curls back from her brow. The twinkling lights twined in the rafters bathed her in a soft, silver glow, like one of her dreams. As she spread her fingers over his heart, his breath caught. Her claim was a brand of dark fire on his soul.

“Was it worth it?” she asked in a small voice. “The wait?”

He knew she asked about the life he’d endured while waiting for her, hoping she’d come for him, losing that hope and then, miracle of miracles, finding it again with her, the girl-turned-woman who’d pulled him into her dreams.

He’d endure it a hundred times, a thousand times over to be with her for even an hour.

“You told me God orchestrated our paths so we’d meet. To me, it seemed to be more of a demon’s cruel joke, finding you when I had no hope of being yours.” He placed his hand over hers, holding it against the strong, steady beat of his heart. “I am more inclined to believe you now.”

Her smile was brighter than the moon hanging on the wall.

With as much gentleness as he could, putting every ounce of sincerity and love his black heart possessed, he kissed her until she gasped for breath and her hands clutched at his shoulders. Before he forgot his intentions—again—Zaire reached beneath the bed for the velvet box he’d put there hours earlier. He handed it to her. “For you.”

Quinn slowly sat up and opened the box with trembling hands. Silent, she stared at the ring inside as if afraid to touch it.

He plucked the band free and slid it onto her finger. The dozens of diamonds embedded in the obsidian beneath gleamed bright as stars. “A reminder,” he said quietly. “That some dreams never die.”

Her bottom lip wobbled.

“And a warning.”

Quinn lifted her gaze from the ring to his face. “Warning?”

“To others.” He gave her his evil smile. “That you’re mine.”

She blinked away the tears and gave her cross chain a small twirl. “I already have a warning label, Z.”

He laughed, just for her. His dreamcaster. His.

“To be very clear, you, dearling, are worth each lost dream and every demon kiss.” Then he kissed her again and didn’t stop.