Dying Dreams (Book 1 of Dying Dreams Trilogy) (20 page)

“Ellison tried to call you to let you know I was on my way over, but you didn’t answer.”

No reason to tell him she’d turned her phone off and put it in the freezer to keep herself from picking it up and dialing his number. “I turn my phone off when I go to sleep.”

Sloane sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making a few strands fall over his left eye. She wanted so badly to crawl into his lap, push that hair out of his eye, and kiss him that she had to fist her hands in the blanket that covered her. “Listen,” he said. “I found out a couple of things today that you need to know. It’s not easy for me to tell you, because I’m pretty sure I’m the only one affected here.”

So why did she need to know? She almost told him to leave, to tell her later, but he smelled so good, and she felt so right with him sitting there that she didn’t want him to leave. She was weak, so damn weak. “I’m listening.”

He nodded and when his eyes met hers, he must have seen something he didn’t like. “You aren’t making this very easy.”

Who the hell did he think he was? Did he think this was easy for her? Her own anger rose, and she gripped the blanket tighter unsure whether she wanted to jump his bones or punch him in the nose. “Didn’t know you needed me to be any easier than I’ve been.”

He sighed and narrowed his eyes at her. “Fine. It seems that when two fae have sex there is a bond that is created between them, a kind of magical connection that makes them need to be near one another in ways that normal human lovers don’t experience. I thought that was all there was to it, but the alpha of the wolf packs, Gabriel Moon, claims that the bond doesn’t happen between every two fae who get together. The bond is extremely rare, and it only happens between two fae that are highly compatible. The more intense the bond the less likely it is that it will fade or—” He cleared his throat. “Or ever go away.”

How did he know what she was feeling? And what did he mean it might never go away. She couldn’t imagine being more drawn to another human being than she was to him and, if what he was saying was true, she’d never break free of it. “What does this have to do with me?”

His reaction couldn’t have been worse if she’d physically slapped him. He flinched and pain filled his already sad eyes. “Nothing to do with you. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll go.”

Her chest ached and her heart cracked, but she knew she had to let him go. She couldn’t give in to the bond. “No, don’t go,” she said, her words betraying her as though someone else had spoken.

He stopped and looked at her, anger reddening his face.

“I researched that drill we saw.”

He returned to his seat, looking a bit like he was walking to his own execution. “Do you know what it is?”

“They’re drilling for petroleum,” Liza said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She was upset about what she’d learned, but she was also having a hard time keeping herself from climbing onto his lap. She wouldn’t give in. She wouldn’t allow some magical bond to control her, to make her lose herself in some guy. She really, really liked Sloane, but she hated the need she felt for him.

Sloane shook his head. “No. No way. They’d have to have a huge rig at top, right? I mean I’ve never seen one in person, but I’ve seen pictures.”

“I think they’ve got all of that. They’ve also got pirates patrolling to keep people from seeing it.”

He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his face. “Shit. There’s no way they could be operating a research expedition?”

“The drill is way too large to be taking core samples. And why would pirates need to patrol a research project?”

*SLOANE*

He sat up, feeling exhausted and emptied out. Liza looked tired, but unaffected by what he’d told her about the bond. He pushed those thoughts away and tried to focus on the drill. “I knew it would be bad when I saw it. The problem is, someone has to be funding it, right? Someone with a lot of money and a lot of power. As far as I knew all the oil drilling machinery was destroyed after the riots in 2061. So it would have to be somebody who could get this thing built without anyone knowing about it and then they’re going to sell the fuel to who?”

Liza shrugged. “Someone more powerful than them? A country with looser energy restrictions?”

“Maybe. The question is who do we report it to?” Sloane loved his country, and he believed in his government, but he also knew corruption existed and that fae, such as himself, were always wise to tread very carefully.

Liza’s eyes widened. “We report it to Reynolds, right?”

He hated for her to know how bad things were, before she’d even started, but he couldn’t lie to her. “Reynolds? The woman who discounted your dreams about the mermaids? Who told us to drop the case?” He knew Reynolds wasn’t a fan of mermaids and he’d pegged her hesitation about helping them up to her speciesism. Now that he knew about the drill, he wondered if something more wasn’t going on.

“You think she knows?”

“Maybe.” He stared at the floor, because he couldn’t look at her face. He hated to see the disappointment there. The floor was a nice cherry hardwood that had been reclaimed, he could tell from the wear visible beneath the polish. If he looked closely, he could imagine other people walking across this wood, if he tried hard enough, he could forget how close Liza was and how badly he wanted to touch her. “But whether she knows or not, doesn’t matter. She told us to drop the case, and we can’t go in there with a pretty story and no proof.”

“So we have to go back.” She spoke so matter-of-factly and his heart pounded like it wanted to beat its way out of his chest. He had been about to make the same suggestion himself, but when she said it, he freaked out.

“No, it’s too dangerous. I’ll go back.”

He saw the fire in her eyes and knew he was in trouble. He knew he was being an overprotective asshole, but he couldn’t rein it in. “You said you want me to be your partner. So I go with you.”

“That was before I knew there’d be pirates.”

“Who I saved us from, you asshole. In fact, I think maybe I should go alone. I think it’s too dangerous for
you
.”

“You don’t have a boat.” He was finding it hard to breathe and he yanked at the neck of his t-shirt like that might be the problem.

“No, but I have access to a boat. Yeah, I think that’s the best way to handle this. I’ll go out by myself, and I’ll get the proof.”

He took several deep breaths and knew he was going to lose if he argued with her. “Make sure you get something that might tell us who built the drill or where the fuel is going.”

Her eyes widened a bit at his reversal, but she covered quickly. “Of course. Actually, I found the names and locations of a few factories that used to manufacture the drill. I thought we should check to see if they’ve re-opened.”

The new information cleared his head for a moment. “I don’t think they could get away with re-opening a factory. I would bet they salvaged parts and rebuilt the drill and platform in a smaller scale operation.”

She nodded thoughtfully and he loved the way she tapped her chin as she thought, her gaze distant. “So I’ll start with the scrapyards. See what I come up with.”

“Good idea,” he said. “Call me and let me know what you find.” It took everything in him to stand and head for the door, but at least she wouldn’t be sailing off to fight pirates without him in the next twenty-four hours.

“You’re leaving,” she squeaked.

He spun around, but she was staring at the blanket on her lap as though she hadn’t spoken. It was hardly a confirmation she felt the bond, but it was a sign she liked him being around, and he’d take whatever he could get. “Since I’m the only one affected by the bond, it doesn’t make sense for me to stay.”

She lifted her face and he saw tears in her eyes. “You’re not… It must be an awful feeling,” she said. “I’m sorry you have to go through it alone.”

He’d thought for a minute that she was going to say she felt it, too, but she just felt bad for him. Like one of her strays, she saw him as someone in need. A need she couldn’t satisfy. “Thanks,” he said, reaching for the doorknob.

“If it would help you to… I mean I wouldn’t mind, if you wanted…”

Was she really offering to sleep with him to help ease his pain? He rarely turned down sex, but he would never be any woman’s pity lay. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure the distance will help.” Realizing what he’d said, he put a hand up. “We can still be partners. I’ll get this under control.”

She nodded. “Have a good night.”

He left, feeling like he was leaving a vital part of himself behind.

*LIZA*

Liza dropped her head into the blankets that covered her and screamed as quietly as she could. Her skin was practically crawling with the desire to run after him and drag him back to her bed. Why did she have to be so bad at seduction? If she had been more brazen, she could have convinced him to sleep with her and made it seem like she felt nothing. She could have gotten what she needed and sent him away without revealing that she felt the pull of the bond, too. If she’d been haughtier or… sexier or… . something. Surely, she could have played that better and not be alone with a desire for a man that made her want to climb right out of her skin.

Two things she knew for sure: Sloane could not, under any circumstances, know she felt the pull of the bond. If he knew, he would have too much control and he’d suck her right down the rabbit hole with him. No, he couldn’t know. And she had to find a way to end the bond. She had to find a way to make this feeling go away or she was going to lose her mind.

“Arty, do you think we can talk later,” Liza asked her satyr friend. She was working her shift at the restaurant, after a day of training with SPA, and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do after a day of physical, mental, and emotional work was go home and go to bed. Except that she’d had to touch another body, and she wasn’t looking forward to sleep. Plus, she needed to keep her job at the restaurant in case the SPA gig didn’t work out. Which was likely if she couldn’t figure out a way to destroy the bond between her and Sloane.

Arty grinned at her and slid his eyes down her body. “We can do more than talk, sugar.”

Normally, she would have flirted right back, but she was not in the mood. “I have a break in half an hour, could we talk at your table?”

Arty was a lech, but he wasn’t stupid. He caught her serious tone and sobered. “This regular human stuff or fae stuff.”

“Fae stuff,” she said, wishing with everything she had that it was regular human stuff.

He appeared to be unsurprised, but the lights were dim, so she couldn’t be sure. “Come to my place after you get off work.” He slipped her a card and she tucked it into her apron.

“Are you sure we can’t just talk here?” Liza was already dead on her feet and she wasn’t sure she’d make it that late.

He eyed her, his expression going from annoyed to understanding in seconds. “Sorry, sugar, we have to talk at my place. I’ll send a car to pick you up, so you don’t have to hoof it.”

Liza wanted to refuse the favor, but she knew she’d never make it otherwise. “Thank you, Arty. I’ll get Jo to put your meal on my tab.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure I can come up with a better way for you to repay me.”

Liza smiled and tried to appear unaffected, but Arty’s tone and expression were serious, and she wasn’t sure she was going to like what he asked in return. She almost refused the car, but she could tell by the set of Arty’s mouth and the hard glint in his eyes that he wasn’t interested in negotiating.

She fell into the car when it picked her up at midnight. The restaurant had been unusually busy and they’d stayed open until after ten, so that by the time everything was cleaned and the money was counted, Liza was bleary-eyed with exhaustion.

The driver didn’t say a word to her and she worried, for a moment, that it wasn’t Arty’s car. Then she sunk into the plush seats and decided she didn’t care. When hot air blasted her in the face, she awoke with a start to find the car stopped and her door open. She rubbed her eyes and saw the driver politely waiting for her to wake up on her own. She stretched and dragged herself out of the car. She stood on the driveway and looked up and up and up at the enormous mansion before her. She’d seen the place countless times and had always wondered who lived there, but she would never have pegged Arty as the dude. She knew he was loaded, and could afford a car and a driver, but she’d had no idea… Maybe she should have been more willing to give in to Arty’s flirtatious advances. She could have had a real sugar daddy. She laughed at the idea, ignoring the weird look she got from the driver and walked up to the front door.

The ornately carved wooden door opened as soon as she reached the top step and a gorgeous man, with the strong, chiseled face of a god and pale pink wings that fluttered on his back, greeted her. The top of his head only came to her waist, but he fluttered up until he was eye to eye with her. He wore a suit that had been tailored to fit him perfectly and to accommodate his wings. “Please follow me,” he said in a soft, but masculine voice. Liza followed him, and had to bite her lip not to compliment him on the rearview he provided as he led her down the hall, his ass at her eye level. She had gone from feeling tired to feeling a bit punch drunk.

She sobered quickly when they entered a study lit by candles and lanterns and she saw the man behind the desk. He had horns like Arty and he looked like Arty, if Arty were fifty years younger. Arty fifty years younger was not hard on the eyes, especially since his white dress shirt was unbuttoned to reveal an expanse of well-muscled chest. Liza took a step back, but the fairy-butler had left, closing the door behind her. “Please, tell me you’re Arty’s grandson.”

The man behind the desk shook his head. “No. Sorry, sweets. People expect me to be old out there in the real world, so I make myself look old.” He chuckled. “Of course to them I’m ancient. I’m one-hundred and fifty years old, but since the average satyr lives to age five-hundred I’m very much in my prime.” He studied her reaction in the dim light. “Why do you look disgusted? Most women find me attractive.”