Silvia Day (15 page)

“Smells good,” Lyssa said a little while later.

Aidan looked over his shoulder and smiled with contentment. Lyssa sat at the breakfast bar with her wet hair combed back into a ponytail and a thin-strapped satin top
he suspected had matching bottoms. “Let’s hope it tastes good, too.”

Her lush mouth curved on one side in a half smile. Her bare shoulders were so pale and slight, reminding him of how tiny she was compared to him. He should have been more gentle with her earlier; he should have followed her into the house, let her bathe, then leisurely seduced her senses so that he could win her trust. Instead he’d sensed the distance and worry in her. Fear had goaded him to touch her, to remind her of how good they were together. Then she’d whimpered his name,
his
name, not a fantasy, not a warrior of legend. And he’d lost control. Again. He had been losing control since the night he’d first met her.

“Whatchya cooking?” she asked, craning her neck in an effort to look around him.

“Don’t know,” he replied honestly. Reaching over, he flipped open a cupboard door and removed two plates. “You don’t have much in the way of nutrition around here.”

“I take a multivitamin.”

He snorted. “You’re going to need a hell of a lot more than a multivitamin to keep up with me, Hot Stuff. I’ll tell you that right now.”

Scooping the contents of the pot onto the plates, Aidan turned and set her serving before her, then grabbed a fork and passed it over.

Lyssa stared at her plate with wide eyes. “What is this on the salad pasta?” She poked at the little tubes with the tines of her fork.

Aidan turned back around and looked at the can by the stovetop. “Chili.”

“And the goopy yellow stuff?”

“Cheese.”

“Sliced cheese?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “The block cheese was moving, so I threw it out.”

Her brows rose. Then she speared some pasta and gingerly placed it in her mouth.

He waited expectantly.

“Ummm…” she purred, her mouth full. She nodded.

“It’s good?” He grabbed a spoon and ate with great relish. It wasn’t the best meal he’d ever had, but it wasn’t the worst, either.

“So,” she hedged finally, her voice tentative, “Tell me about us. And you. And everything.”

Shooting a longing glance at the pot, he acknowledged that he’d have to get enough to eat later, when Lyssa was deep in slumber.

Where to begin?

“Do you remember anything?” he asked carefully.

She winced. “Not really, no. It’s more of a feeling. Like you’re familiar.”

He blew out his breath. “Hang on.”

Then he fixed her a stiff rum and soda. Setting it down before her, he stepped back and rested his hip against the far counter. His arms crossed of their own volition, and he accepted that he was feeling edgy and defensive. There was no way to explain without sounding like he was a nut. So he just started talking, refusing to cushion things with evasions or half-truths. He knew the tale was unbelievable on its face. It didn’t need any embellishment to make it worse.

The whole time he watched her, trying to gauge her reaction, noting how she gulped her drink.

“More,” she gasped when he fell silent, setting the glass down with a sharp click on the granite countertop.

He refilled it with a sigh, and waited silently as she downed a third of it in one swallow. “Are you okay?”

Her dark eyes were huge in her face, her creamy skin pale, her hands shaking as she released her beverage and wiped her palms on her satin shorts. Tears welled, clinging to long, dark lashes before slipping free and coursing down her cheeks.

“Lyssa,” he murmured, his chest aching at the sight of her tears.

“I’m o-okay,” she whispered.

Lyssa winced as her voice broke. Then she cried as Aidan came to where she sat on the bar stool and cupped her nape, tilting her chin up so that he could brush his lips across hers with heartbreaking tenderness.

“You’re trembling.” He nuzzled her nose with his. “And your skin is cold.”

She knew that, knew she was in shock, but how was she supposed to react when the man of her dreams swore he
came to life
from her dreams? All the hopes she’d been harboring of this happiness lasting vanished like smoke, and something precious inside her died.

“Oh god!” she moaned, her stomach roiling as she was struck with a sudden, horrifying thought. “This Twilight…Is it like another planet?”

He exhaled audibly and tugged her ponytail free. His callused fingertips sank into her damp hair and massaged her scalp. She melted, her eyes falling closed. Her
breathing was so shallow and the silence so complete that Jelly Bean’s purring rumbled like thunder through the room.

“No,” he murmured, “It’s a conduit plane of existence. Think of it like an apple. Abbreviated space is the hole bored through the center by a worm. Instead of coming out the other side, though, the Elders found a way to suspend us in there.”

How could she and JB both be so wrong about him?
The man was completely insane. Those oversized clothes…
Oh god, what if he was a vagrant?

“A wormhole?” she repeated. “Are we talking about the same type of wormhole as they have on television and the movies?”

“Yes, somewhat.”

“But before you went into the apple,” she said slowly, “you came from another planet, right?”

His lips pressed into her forehead. “Yes.”

“So you’re telling me you’re an alien.”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” She cried harder, her heart breaking so completely, she found it hard to breathe. Dropping her wet face into her hands, she gave in to her grief with deep, wracking sobs.

“Shush. I know this is a lot to throw at you. But please…you’re killing me. I can’t stand it.”

He enfolded her in his warm, strong arms. She breathed him in, filling her mind with his unique essence, only mildly surprised by how it soothed her. She doubted she’d ever be truly surprised again.

Turning her head, she spotted where her purse was on
the counter and reached for it, withdrawing the pepper pen and clutching it in her hand.
In case of alien, break glass
. The thought of using it on Aidan, of inflicting any kind of pain on him, only tugged her deeper into despondency.

Then the doorbell rang.

She wiggled free of Aidan’s embrace, part of her mind wondering how to go about getting someone psychiatric treatment and another part thinking she didn’t care if he was insane. There were all kinds of insanity, and Aidan’s brand of hot sex and proprietary caring worked for her. She wasn’t exactly normal, either. Who was she to bitch about a little mental instability? She was a woman who never remembered dreams and had so much trouble sleeping that it affected her ability to lead a normal life. Hell, Aidan thought she was a prophecy set to destroy him and everything he knew. “The Key” that was expected to annihilate worlds, including her own. Or something like that.

“Lyssa, just ignore it.”

“No. No, I have to get that.”
Think, Lyssa. Think.

But she couldn’t think when he was touching her. He short-circuited her brain cells.

Needing some distance, she slid off the stool and hurried toward the door. JB jogged alongside her, growling his demon cat growl. She knew Aidan followed, even though he moved silently.

Maybe it was Chad or Stacey. Oh jeez, not Stacey because she’d have Justin with her. Maybe it was Mom! Mom would be excellent. She would start charming Aidan, and Lyssa could sneak upstairs and figure out how the hell her life kept getting worse.

Relieved at the prospect of a moment alone, she opened the door without looking out the peephole. She remembered it only as the door swung inward…

…and her wide eyes caught the sword swinging downward.

It was JB’s arching spine and bristling hair that alerted Aidan to the danger. The cat was too inherently lazy to do more than growl to intimidate guests. So when JB hissed like a banshee, Aidan’s senses went on high alert. As the door swung open, he caught Lyssa around the waist and yanked her back…

…just in time to miss the downward swing of a sword.

The marble that lined the entryway cracked under the force of the glaive.

“Chad?”
Lyssa screeched, limbs flailing. “What the fuck are you doing? You almost killed me!”

A quick glance at the familiar man lunging through the doorway made Aidan’s blood run cold. He set Lyssa on her feet and shoved her toward the stairs. “That’s not Chad. Go!”

Aidan leaped back several paces to avoid a gutting by the thrusting weapon aimed at his abdomen. With his heart
in his throat over what had nearly happened to Lyssa, he risked a glance in her direction. She stood frozen. Shock compounded by more shock.

“Run, damn it!” He landed a brutal kick with his bare heel to Chad’s knee, bringing the other man to the ground.

“I’m calling the cops!” she cried, sprinting up the stairs. “You’re both insane!”

“No!”
He jumped, and Chad’s glaive whistled through the air beneath him, the strike aimed to cut him off at the knees. Literally. “Don’t call anyone!”

Aidan was grateful for the loose-fitting pajama bottoms he wore. They allowed him similar freedom of movement as his battle dress. Chad, however, was dressed in jeans, and the heavy, unyielding material slowed him just enough to slightly mitigate the effect the Elders had on him. Seeing Chad’s blank stare and lack of any facial expression at all, Aidan was certain he was dealing with a sleepwalker.

Determined to keep Lyssa safe, he led Chad away from the staircase and into the living room. His sword was located there, waiting near the entertainment center. As Aidan moved to the right, then feinted to the left, Chad pulled his arm back and made a wild swing. With a rapid spin on his heel, Aidan caught up his glaive, and before he’d completed the rotation, he had yanked it free of its scabbard and blocked the next incoming blow.

The clash of metal upon metal focused him. It was a sound he’d heard almost as much as he heard his own breathing. The familiar feel of the hilt in his palm and the weight of his weapon centered him. It was comforting in a way only others who lived by the sword would know.

Everything else fell away.

He thrust and parried with singular expertise, recognizing the skill of a Master in his opponent. Which one? Who would come for them like this? Was it Lyssa they wanted, or he? Perhaps both?

Disadvantaged by the fact that he could not kill Chad, Aidan was forced to take a defensive position, a stance he hated and was relatively unfamiliar with. Still, he managed, aware that he could fight for days like this, switching his glaive from one hand to the other when his arm fatigued. Chad was fit, but lacked the stamina and finely honed muscles Aidan had cultivated over centuries. Despite the battle knowledge imparted by the Master who controlled him, Chad’s physical form could not be enhanced.

The engagement continued. They were trapped in the small area of the living room and adjoining dining room. Stumbling around furniture, Aidan cursed as he bumped the bookcase.

“Would you fucking
wake up
already?” he yelled at Chad.

But there was nothing Aidan could say, no cajoling or threats that would shake his opponent’s position, no sound or facial expression he could make that would inspire fear. Chad was asleep and incapable of being reasoned with, incapable of speech. Sweat poured down the other man’s face, dripping from his lashes into his eyes, but he wasn’t capable of feeling it.

Aidan kept a running tally of Chad’s weaknesses, cataloging them in his mind for use, if necessary. The instant Chad began to move sluggishly and breathe laboriously, Aidan seized the moment.

Moving with tactical precision, he forced the other man to retreat until the backs of his legs hit the low coffee table and he stumbled. Falling backward.

Aidan tossed his glaive to the opposite hand and leaped to the tabletop, his knees bending, carrying the force of his downward descent in his fist. The connection to Chad’s jaw was marked with a sharp crack, and then the man fell limp. Truly unconscious, far beyond the Twilight. He lay arched over the table with arms flung wide. His weapon fell from his slackened grip and landed with a thud on the carpeted floor.

“Oh my god!” Lyssa cried. “Did you break his neck?”

Swiveling his head to the side, Aidan found Lyssa standing at the bottom of the stairs, her lips and knuckles white with tension, her outstretched hand shaking violently. He arched his brow at the sight of the object she held, and jumped off the table. “What were you going to do? Parry with your pen?”

Swallowing hard, she sputtered, “P-pepper spr-spray.”

His gaze narrowed. “You grabbed that before the doorbell rang.”

She blinked.

The implications of her actions made him grit his teeth. He collected Chad’s sword and put it on the opposite side of the room.

He retrieved his scabbard from the floor and sheathed his glaive, setting it next to the other weapon with deliberately casual movements. Then he went to her, wrapping his big hand around the one she held out.

“Gimme that,” he murmured, prying her nerveless fingers open. Keeping her icy cold hand in his, Aidan side-
stepped just far enough to reach the entertainment center. Then he set the pepper spray pen atop it, far from Lyssa’s reach.

Her free hand touched his chest, making the muscle beneath it jump. “You’re barely breathing hard at all.”

Aidan caught her wrist and pulled her hand away. “Were you planning on spraying me with the damn pepper spray?”

Again she blinked huge, dark eyes at him, the irises swallowed by dilated pupils. “Stacey said I should if you wanted to sacrifice me or came from another planet.”

“Sacrifice—?” He growled. “And you call
me
insane?”

She frowned. And then burst into tears.

Relenting with a sigh, he tugged her into his arms. His brain acknowledged that she had a right to be wary and to consider self-protection. Another part of him—his aching heart—didn’t care about that.

“Did you call anyone?” he asked.

“N-no.”

“Good girl.” He stroked the length of her spine.

“What’s going on?” she sobbed, her voice muffled.

He rested his cheek against the top of her head and told her.

“When he wakes up,” he finished, “he’s going to hurt like hell and have a nasty bruise on his jaw, but he won’t remember any of this.”

“I’ll never forget it.” She sucked in a shuddering breath and rubbed her face into his damp skin in a way that made the ache in his chest worse. “So you told me the truth.”

“Of course.” He pushed her away and moved to Chad’s splayed body. “Listen, I’ve got to get him to his place before
he wakes up. We don’t have time to change our clothes.”

He dug in Chad’s pocket and withdrew his car keys. “I’ll follow behind you in his car, then you can drive us both back. Are you okay to get behind the wheel?”

“I think so.” She went to the kitchen to collect her purse, and Aidan bent low to heft Chad’s body over his shoulder. He found the red Jeep parked just outside Lyssa’s garage, tossed his burden into the passenger seat, and moved the vehicle out of the way so she could pull out.

He’d considered the possibility of controlling Dreamers from the Twilight. When he first saw the cavern the Elders used to contain hypnotized humans, he’d thought surely the ability to control the mind in that state would work both ways. It appeared it was true. He wondered if Chad had initiated the connection on purpose—turning to hypnosis to cure some ailment—or if the Elders had the ability to control the human body through dreams. The latter thought was terrifying. It made every single person around them a threat.

Lyssa wasn’t safe anywhere.

Lyssa backed out of her garage with more care than usual, then took a long moment to stare at the Jeep and the man who sat so pensively in the driver’s seat. She held the steering wheel with white-knuckled force to keep her hands from shaking uncontrollably. Everything she knew about her life had just blown up in her face. An alien invasion wouldn’t come by air. It would come from within, like zombies or
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
.

But Aidan wasn’t like that. He was warm, caring, passionate. Human.

Just thinking about him made her long for his arms around her. He had come an incalculable distance to save her, leaving everything—
everything
—he knew behind. For her.

She stepped on the gas pedal and drove to Chad’s, her eyes lifting constantly to her rearview mirror. Her thoughts were tumultuous, her breathing uneven, and her hands and feet were as cold as ice. She parked her car at Chad’s by instinct, her brain too overloaded to record the events. As she slowly recovered from shock, it took her an hour to realize Aidan wasn’t talking to her.

He was silent as he arranged Chad on the floor by the bed, simulating a fall that would in no way account for his exhausted muscles and bruised face, but was the best they could do. He was silent on the ride home and on the walk into the house from the garage, even though she’d paused at the door with her hand on the knob, her blood heating at the memory of what they had done there. Only hours ago, yet it seemed like forever.

She’d looked over her shoulder and noted the darkness of his gaze. He had thought of it, too, but aside from the heat in his eyes, he had been distant and cold.

Now, as he stood in her kitchen with a sleeping pill in his palm, she realized this was as hard on him as it was on her. She shook her head. “I don’t want that now. We need to talk.”

“We’ve talked enough.” His jaw was firm. “You need sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You’re in shock. You don’t know what you are.” His tone lowered wearily. “Or what I am.”

“Aidan…”

His eyes closed at the sound of his name.

“Will you come upstairs with me?” she asked softly.

“I can’t. I’ve got work to do.”

“Just until I fall asleep?”

“Lyssa.” He shook his head. “If I lie down, I may fall asleep. I can’t do that. We’ll have to sleep in shifts. We can’t afford to have me unconscious at the same time you are.”

If they slept in shifts, they would never be together.

And she needed him.

She almost told him that all she wanted was him wrapped around her, inside her, making her feel cherished and safe. But she worried that telling him would ensure a negative response. For the first time since he’d walked in the door, she was fairly certain he didn’t want to make love to her. So all she said was, “Please.”

He growled low and ran a hand through his hair. He gestured for her to go ahead of him and then followed her up the stairs. When she stopped by the bathroom, Aidan handed her the sleeping pill, and she went to the sink as he sprawled on the bed. She looked at her reflection, knowing she looked like death warmed over, but also knowing it wasn’t her looks that had dampened Aidan’s ardor.

She set the pill on the counter. If she needed it later, so be it. But first she was going to try to get Aidan to talk to her.

Returning to the bedroom, Lyssa crawled on the bed and stretched out parallel to him. Aidan lay on his side, his head in his hand, but when she got close he rolled to his back and tucked her against him. She tossed her leg
over his and her arm across his abdomen. He stiffened in response.

“You’re mad at me,” she whispered, her breath hot as it gusted across his bare chest.

He exhaled audibly and rolled into her. “No. I’m not mad at you.”

“Then hold me,” she breathed. “I need you.”

“Lyssa…” Aidan lowered his head and took her mouth, his tongue gliding deep, making her shudder beneath him. She needed this, needed the connection to ground her to him. He was a dream, an alien, a man centuries older than she was. She was a threat, a prophecy, the key to his destruction. The distance between them yawned galaxies and planes of existence apart, and yet he was the yang to her yin, a living puzzle piece that by some miracle made him physically able to fit her, just as males of her own species did. Together they could become one, with no separation at all between them. That’s what she needed,
right now
, as much as she needed to breathe.

As her desire for him built, her embrace loosened, her hands moving to stroke the length of his spine. He smelled delicious, even more so than usual because he’d worked up a sweat earlier. The combination of Aidan, adrenaline overload, and testosterone was a potent aphrodisiac.

Endlessly in lust with him, she stroked his tongue with her own.

“Remember the apple?” he murmured into her mouth.

Lyssa stilled. “Yeah…”

“That hasn’t changed just because you understand now.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” he said softly, his gaze starkly intense beneath the lock of black hair that fell over his brow. “The information I need may be in the books I brought, or it could be back in the Twilight. Right now, we both need to consider my being here as temporary and my eventual departure as permanent.”

She swallowed hard. “I thought you said no one has ever gone back?”

“None of the other Guardians had a book by the Elders detailing fissure creation,” he pointed out.

“Oh.” Sinking into the mattress, her legs slackened and then fell away. “So you’re not mad?”

“I am.” His voice was low and fervent. “At everything and everyone that prevents me from keeping you.” He rested his forehead against hers, inundating her senses with the scent and heat of his skin. “But I’m not angry with you, no. I’m proud of you for taking steps to protect yourself, and I know you trust me. You wouldn’t have let me take you without a condom otherwise. You’re a doctor and far too smart to gamble with your life like that.”

Aidan rolled off her and stared up at the ceiling.

“I don’t understand how you could go back,” she said, frowning in confusion. “I’m not even sure I understand how you got here.”