Pleasures of the Night (Dream Guardians #1)

Pleasures of the Night (Dream Guardians #1) Page 36

He could only press on and make a private vow of vengeance.

Lyssa stared down at the book in her hands and the note that had been set carefully on top of it.

She'd never seen Aidan's handwriting before, but the arrogantly slashed letters were his, she had no doubt. Like the man himself, it was beautiful and bold, yet harshly drawn with sharp angles.

Her fingertips followed the lines as she cried. He thought staying with her would place her in danger. He was willing to sacrifice himself out of love for her.

'Aidan." She brushed away her tears, and then gripped the pendant in a fist, "You're not doing this alone, and I'm not letting you go without a fight."

Pushing back from the table with a weary sigh, Lyssa went upstairs to bed. She would close her eyes and pray that she would drift into the Twilight and save him. How she would manage, and what it was she could do to help, she didn't know. She'd spent almost her entire life hiding from the Elders and the Nightmares. Now she had no choice, she had to face them. She couldn't just do nothing; she couldn't leave Aidan suspended like that—his body in one plane, his mind in another. So far, she had gone with her gut instincts every step of the way. She wasn't going to stop now.

Lyssa set one knee on the mattress and crawled over to Aidan. She curled up against his side, her leg over his, her arm flung across his waist. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his heart raced in a desperate rhythm. She pressed her face into the side of his throat and breathed in his scent. It centered her, reminding her of his touch and his tenderness.

He had come through a damn galactic fissure for her. It was time to do the same for him.

Lyssa woke on a blanket on a beach. It took her a moment to orient herself to her new surroundings, but before she could catch a complete breath, the full force of her situation hit her like a bucket of ice water dumped on her head. She leaped to her feet, her hands automatically moving to dust the sand from her clothes. She touched her garments carefully—a miniature, female version of Aidan's black vest and loose trousers.

"Kick-ass clothes," she said softly, lifting her chin. "Damn straight."

Newly armed with memories of the time she had spent with Aidan here in his world, Lyssa was even more determined to save her man. The vision of his blue eyes filled with such desolation and hopelessness made her heart ache.

I'm glad to be here with you, he'd said the day he arrived on her doorstep. His smile had been so filled with joy, it stopped her heart and squashed her common sense like an annoying bug.

"I'm coming, baby," she murmured, heading toward the big metal door that waited just beyond the circle of light created by her dream sun. Taking one last breath of courage, she gripped the handle and pulled the door open…

… and met eyes of startling gray. Nearly metallic in appearance, they were stunningly set off by tanned skin and a determined jaw. Inky black hair was tied back at the neck and fell past his shoulder blades.

She gaped.

"Your haste in returning gives me hope that you feel the same about Captain Cross as he does about you," the man said.

Her mouth snapped closed so she could reply. "Who are you? And where is he? Is he okay? Is he hurt?"

He smiled and bowed. "Lieutenant Wager, at your service. I'm here for the express purpose of taking you to Captain Cross. Don't worry about that."

Leaning to the side to look around his tall form, she counted at least twenty men behind him, each one uniquely yummy in appearance. She whistled. "Do I know how to dream or what?"

"Cross didn't do so bad himself," the man returned. "What color are my eyes?"

"Gray."

"And my hair?"

"Black."

"So it's true," he murmured, then his amused gaze ran down the length of her body and back up again. "Cute outfit. Right down to the pendant."

It was then Lyssa noted that the other men were dressed similarly but in heather gray rather than the black she wore. It was a uniform. From the look of the various grins directed her way, she quickly deduced that she was wearing a garment reserved for the captain alone. She winced. "Ooops. The necklace was a gift. The rest is a mistake. I'll change."

"No, don't," he said quickly, staying her with a hand on her arm. "You look great, and the element of surprise is an excellent advantage."

She blew out her breath. "Yeah, well, it's the only one I have." At his arched brow she added, "I'm a veterinarian. If you have a sick pet, you won't find anyone better to handle it than me. But if you want Sydney Bristow, you're out of luck."

His grin widened. "Let's see if you can exit the slipstream."

"What?"

He gestured for her to precede him, and the other men moved out of their way. "According to the prophecy, you're the Key, and we're supposed to be scared shitless of you. I can't see you doing much damage trapped in your own stream of unconsciousness."

She paused. "What happens if I can't get out?"

"Nothing."

"Okay." Lyssa caught his hand and squeezed it. His eyes widened in surprise. "What's your name? Your first name."

"Philip."

"Promise me, Philip. If I can't help, promise me that you'll save Captain Cross no matter what."

"Definitely."

The word was said with such conviction that she believed him without question. "Okay, then. I'm ready."

For what, she didn't know. But she was as prepared as she would ever be.

With a firm hand at the small of her back, he led her away from the door toward a wall of shimmering blue light. Beyond it, she could barely make out shadowed forms. It was like looking through a curtain of electric blue water.

"Can you see that?" he asked.

She nodded.

"All you have to do is jump out."

"All right. Here goes nothing." Lyssa took a deep breath and leaped.

There was one mistake that everyone who crossed Connor Bruce made more often than they should—they underestimated him. Usually he found grim satisfaction in this. Today was no exception.

"We are pleased that you see our side now," one of the Elders said, a lone voice speaking for the collective.

"Forgive me for my earlier behavior." Connor bowed in a feigned show of remorse. "I'm not a man who likes to be taken by surprise, and I certainly don't like being restrained."

"We knew you wouldn't immediately understand why Captain Cross had to be taken into protective custody. But we hope you remember that our purpose has always been to serve and protect our people."

"Of course," Connor lied smoothly. "No one doubts this, least of all me."

"Captain Cross does."

Connor shrugged, hiding the intensity of his enmity with half-lidded eyes. "The Key has corrupted him, but he's always put his duty before everything else. A small amount of time away from her influence, and he'll return to his senses. He's gone without a romantic relationship longer than any man I know. First loves always screw with your head, but it's only temporary. I'm sure you all know this."

"Of course, and we agree. The captain will be sequestered for a time, and then he will slowly be reintegrated into the community."

"I will be available to assist you with his reacclimation when the time comes."

"Excellent. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. You may return to duty, Captain Bruce."

Connor's glance swept over the sea of shadowed faces before him. He bowed again and then departed, stepping out to the courtyard where unknowing Guardians mingled completely unaware of the lies they lived with.

The sky was dark, the day long over. A cool breeze blew past him, carrying the scent of fragrant night-blooming flowers. In the distance, the roar of the waterfalls could be heard.

Home.

Like Aidan, he'd been born here and had no memories of the world the Guardians had abandoned long ago. But what was home? Was it a place? Or was it people who cared about you?

He knew he was being watched, so he went straight to the Valley of Dreams. Biding his time was something he had learned to do well during his service in the Elite. He expected it would take a few moments of clearing his head before he could adequately consider all the places they would take Aidan to be "sequestered." His feet hit the ground running, which was why he couldn't stop in time to avoid the lithe blond who popped out of a slipstream directly before him.

He hit her full force and down they went, her screech so loud his ears rang. Clutching her to his chest, he twisted mid-fall and kicked upward, shooting them straight up into the air to avoid crushing her on the ground.

"What the hell?" she yelled, kicking his shin.

"Ow! Fuck."

"Lemme go!" The tiny virago in his arms fought like a pissed-off kitten, scratching and kicking and hissing.

"Stop it!" he ordered in his most commanding voice.

"I'm the Key!" she cried, shooting him a glare with big dark eyes, not the least bit cowed. "I'll… I'll… put a hex on you!"

Connor noted her garments at the exact same moment she said "the Key," and then he broke out in a grin, which didn't fade even when she caught him on the jaw with a pretty decent right hook.

He shook her and slowed to a hover. "Hey! Quit that. I'm Connor—Aidan's best friend."

She stilled in mid-swing and gaped at him, giving him the chance to really look her over in the simulated starlight. She was beautiful—slender but curvy, with golden tresses that fell haphazardly around her shoulders. Full red lips and huge brown eyes that tilted slightly at the corners gave her classic good looks an exotic cant.

"Oh." She wrinkled her nose, and he could see why Aidan would find such interest in this woman. "Sorry."

"A hex, huh?" He laughed.

She scowled, a facial expression that didn't detract from her beauty at all.