Silvia Day (18 page)

All the years he’d spend teasing and dismissing Aidan for his overwhelming curiosity rose up as bile in Connor’s throat. Sex and fighting were all he had cared to focus on. How frivolous that seemed now. Life was not as simple as a halfhearted search for a centuries-old prophecy.

Who are the Elders? Who put them in charge? Why the drastic change in their appearance? Where did they learn about the Key? Why do we stop aging? Don’t you ever wonder these things?

You ask too many questions, Cross.

Stupid. He never went into any mission without knowing every facet of the situation, yet he’d lived his life without knowing jackshit, as the past few moments had made abundantly clear.

“No more.” He rolled his shoulders back, the primary focus of his life switching in one powerful moment of epiphany. “That’s all about to change.”

Then he heard his name and stilled, trying to discern where the sound had come from. He heard it again, and his wide-eyed gaze lifted to the row of monitors. “Cross.”

On the farthest screen to the right he saw Aidan’s dream…and Aidan.

As Lyssa put lotion on her face, she considered her dilemma and wondered what, if anything, she could do about it. She couldn’t help Aidan with the books he’d brought with him since his language was beyond her, but she had noted that the new books he’d purchased the day before had been about Stonehenge. She didn’t know why the place held such interest for him, but she would find out.

No matter what she had to do, there was no way in hell she was going to let him just walk out of her life. Not after what he’d shared with her this morning. Her immortal warrior had gone his entire life without needing or loving any woman—until he had found her. Now
she
was his dream, and it was a gift she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Stepping out of her bathroom, Lyssa paused mid-step. Aidan lay on the bed, asleep. She smiled affectionately, her heart swelling with emotion. “My poor darling. Even dream lovers need to rest sometime.”

She padded barefoot across her short-pile oatmeal carpet, her hands tightening the fold between her breasts that kept the towel from falling. Standing over her bed, she took in the clothing he wore—loose-fitting black pants and matching vest. Unlike the clothes he’d purchased yesterday, these garments fit him perfectly, hugging him like a second skin to his hips, where the trousers then flared wide for ease of movement. The foreign material and seamless construction reminded her that they came from different worlds.

Her heart in her throat, she memorized his beloved features as they looked in that moment, the hard, angular lines softened by slumber. Aside from the strands of silver hair that lined his temples, Aidan looked no older than her thirty years.

“Gorgeous,” she breathed, deeply enamored with his bared arms and golden throat. Bending over, she pressed her lips to his. “I love you.”

He slept on.

Needing coffee desperately, Lyssa dressed in a cotton mini-dress decorated with soft pastel flowers. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a familiar voice calling her from the open front door.

“Lyssa?”

She bounced the rest of the way down. “Hi, Mom.” Her hug was exuberant.

“What the hell happened to your entryway?” her mother asked, poking at the cracked and powdered remains of a tile with the toe of her heeled sandal.

“I dropped something.”

“A sledgehammer?”

Lyssa laughed.

“Did you just giggle?” Her mother’s head came up, and her eyes narrowed. She whistled low. “Look at you! Whoever your guy is, he didn’t waste any time getting to the honeymoon stage of the visit, eh?”

“Mom!” Shaking her head, Lyssa went to the kitchen for coffee, and found a covered plate of Ritz crackers with peanut butter and raisins on top.

“What is that?” her mother asked, her wide eyes an odd contrast to her cosmopolitan appearance. Dressed in a soft gauze multicolored skirt and azure blue tank, Cathy looked fabulous, as always. She moved her hands while talking, making the thin gold bracelets on her wrists tinkle merrily.

“It’s breakfast.”

“Are you babysitting Justin again?”

“Nope. This is
my
breakfast.” Lyssa picked up a cracker and took a bite. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted. Made by loving hands, it carried a heated reminder of their late night snack.

“Ugh.” Her mother wrinkled her nose. “So where is he?”

“Where’s who?” Lyssa poured a quick cup of coffee, added cream and sweetener, and washed down the sticky peanut butter.

“Don’t be dense. I want to meet him. I haven’t seen you look so good in years.”

Smiling, Lyssa picked up another cracker and walked around the counter to take her favorite stool at the bar.

Her mother followed, a frown marring the space between her brows. “Is he a professor?” She moved to the dining table and looked over the books there. “Or a student?”

“Something like that.”

“Why the mystery? I don’t like it.”

For a moment Lyssa tensed, wondering how she would explain the jeweled book. Relief filled her to see that it was hidden beneath a stack of papers. “You’re just nosy.”

“Stonehenge, huh? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Not me.” Not if it meant Aidan would go home. There was so much she wanted to learn about him, so many things she wanted to show him and share with him. He said he knew everything about her because in the Twilight he could see into her mind. She wanted the time to know him just as well.

“Did he go to the store or something?” Cathy asked, looking around. “Maybe he saw your idea of breakfast and decided to get some real food. Really, Lyssa. You can’t feed a man a meal like that.”

“He’s sleeping upstairs.”

“Oooh.”

Lyssa immediately regretted telling her mother. Cathy was hurrying up the stairs before Lyssa could protest. All she could do was follow and hiss, “This is bad even for you, Mom!”

“Just a peek. I promise I won’t wake him up.” Her mom paused in the bedroom doorway and froze. She said nothing for a long moment, and then, “Jesus. Is he real?”

“No. He’s a blow-up doll. Top of the line.”

Her mother glanced over her shoulder with a glare.
“Smart ass.” She turned her gaze back to the bed. “Where did you find him, and are there any more like him?”

“He found me, remember?” And thank god he had. Lyssa lifted to her tiptoes so she could see him, too. Aidan Cross sleeping on her bed was the most erotic sight ever.

The two of them were silent, both of them arrested by the glorious specimen of masculinity stretched out in vulnerable slumber. The only sound in the room was breathing, the soft in and out of air in lungs. Her mother took one step into the room…

…and JB’s sudden protective growl scared the shit out of both of them. Cathy jumped and screamed, which frightened Lyssa enough to leap back and screech.

Aidan didn’t even twitch.

Lyssa knew her mother could wake the dead with that scream, and her own screech wasn’t too shabby in the corpse-raising department, either. Her heart, already racing from recent events, kicked up a notch. Something was very wrong. “Mom, you’ll have to leave now.”

“Why?”

“Hot guy. In my bed. You figure it out.” A hot guy who wasn’t moving or reacting to external stimuli.

“I don’t know how the hell you plan to wake him up if two screaming women didn’t do it. Poor guy. You wore him out.” Cathy moved toward the stairs, her hand still pressed to her chest. “That animal is possessed, Lyssa. You’ll never catch a man with that beast around.”

“Don’t worry about that now.” Lyssa hurried her mother down to the first floor and then hugged her with more than usual fervor in the entryway, breathing in the famil
iar scent of Coco by Chanel. In case she wouldn’t get the chance again, she said, “I love you, Ma. A lot.”

“I know, baby.” Cathy’s hand stroked over her head and down her back, bringing tears to her eyes. “Will I get to see your McDreamy awake sometime?”

Lyssa set her shoulders back. “I’ll do everything I can to make that happen. I promise you that.”

“Connor, damn it. Where the fuck are you?”

Just as a Dreamer would be, Aidan was fully cognizant of his surroundings. However, unlike a Dreamer, his stream was degraded, creating a murky glass effect. Connor spent precious moments trying to figure out if he could reach his best friend from the control panel or if he would have to leave. In the end, he quickly erased all the vids of the last several minutes in the Temple, then met Philip outside.

“Cross has returned to the Twilight in the dream state.”

Philip frowned, then nodded. “Go to him. I’ll take over in the control room and see what I can dig up.”

“No way. It’s too dangerous. You won’t have a second to watch your back.”

“Fuck it,” Philip dismissed with a snort. “We went to all this trouble. I’m not wasting our efforts. The chances of us getting this opportunity again are slim to none, and you know it.”

“So we find another way. An engagement like this can’t be done with only one man.”

“You’re wasting time. And your breath.”

Connor growled low and then cursed. He had no choice, he had to go to Aidan, and he knew that once he left, Phil
ip would do whatever the hell he wanted. “You get caught and I’ll have your ass.”

“Deal. Now go.”

Rounding the building, Connor reached the grassy plateau behind the Temple and leaped, gliding swiftly past Aidan’s home to the high mountain, then beyond it. Before him spread the Valley of Dreams, wide golden beams rising from the valley floor and piercing the misty sky until they could no longer be seen. The varying streams of unconscious thoughts spread as far as the eye could see. Writhing shadows and wisps of black smoke betrayed the Nightmares who infiltrated the valley despite their best efforts. This battleground was not the hell that the Gateway was, but the stakes were just as high.

He skimmed the edge, traveling as fast as possible, reaching the valley border farthest from the Temple and then dipping over the rise. There, in the ignored stretch of rocky outcroppings, was the flickering beam of pale blue light that represented Aidan’s stream of unconsciousness.

Connor had been here before, just by an odd bit of chance. It had been a fluke that the barely discernible light had caught the face of a polished rock at the highest point, which had then caught his eye. He’d noted the anomaly as he exited a mission, and his subsequent investigation had led to them meeting briefly, just enough time to know that Aidan had survived the trip to the mortal plane and to see the barest imprint of the Elders’ control room.

Stepping into the cool beam, Connor entered Aidan’s dream. His best friend pictured them on the porch of his home, a comfortable place for both of them.

“You have the worst timing, Cross.”

Aidan rubbed the back of his neck as Connor approached. “As bad as my suspicions were, the reality is worse.”

It was the creaking of the porch step that drew their attention to the Elder who joined them. The deep shadows created by the large hood hid the identity of their visitor, but the way Aidan stiffened set Connor on alert. Not in time, though.

Before he could guess the coming events, the cowl fell back and Nightmares poured from the depths of the robe.

Connor felt Aidan withdraw his glaive from the scabbard on his back. Yanking his knife free of the sheath strapped to his thigh, he lunged into battle.

Pure fury boiled up inside him, causing his muscles to bulge with the need to tear his enemy apart. He felt it, embraced it, then opened his throat and roared at the Nightmares that swarmed around them.

The sound swelled and then rippled outward. Filled with fury and frustration, his yell was fearsome, and the Nightmares writhed away from it, some of them frightened enough to dissipate into puffs of foul-smelling ash. They screamed their children’s cries, which incited Aidan into a frenzy of such magnitude, Connor paused in mid-swing to watch in admiration. There was a reason Aidan Cross was the best of the Elite—he was a badass motherfucker when it came to wielding a glaive.

The Nightmares recoiled, swirling insidiously around them. Pumped up with aggression, Connor leaped toward
the shadowy forms with his blade leading the way. Aidan was with him, fighting with vigor such as Connor had not seen from him in many years.

With his focus divided between Aidan and the Nightmares, Connor failed to notice that they were no longer alone with their enemy until it was too late. Before he understood what was happening, hundreds of Elders rushed up behind them, glaives flashing. Soon the entire grassy expanse was hidden by a sea of gray-robed figures and the Nightmares they fought. They spread outward like a growing stain, surrounding the porch and sides of the house.

Connor couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, but at the moment he didn’t care. The only thing that concerned him was the Nightmares, and killing every single one of them. With the help of the Elders, that goal was achievable.

There is a moment in every battle when the winds of fate change direction. Warriors of every kind know it instinctively. It comes to them in a rush of adrenaline, a surge of power, a howl of victory.

It was when that moment of triumph arrived that the Elders made their move. Moving as one, they surged up the stairs, overwhelming Aidan in a flood of grasping arms and dragging him away. The captain fought like a man possessed, but he was unable to overcome the sheer number of assailants. Connor roared his frustration and fear for his friend. But he was unable to do anything, trapped as he was by his fight with the remaining Nightmares. He couldn’t turn away; he couldn’t help.

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.

I love you.

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.

Chortling below them rose in volume and then Philip appeared, nearly doubled over as he hovered in the air nearby. “I think she might have kicked your ass, Bruce, if she wanted to.”

“Only because I wouldn’t hit a girl,” Connor retorted.

“Excuses, excuses.” Philip winked at Aidan’s lady. “You were tearing him up good, Lyssa.”

Despite her recent spate of violence, Connor had to admit he had a hard time picturing her as the destruction of anything. She was so tiny, and a bit too thin. She also had those eyes that were clear and guileless.

She looked down at the ground a good kilometer beneath them and then flung herself into his arms, clinging to him like a vine. “Oh jeez, put me down!”

Brows raised, Connor sank slowly to the valley floor. Her body was a soft, warm weight against his. He blew out his breath, part of him wishing Aidan would return to being a perennial bachelor. The other part of him acknowledged that Lyssa was a hottie with a tough spirit. Some Dreamers came to them in lucid dreams, but never had any of them been able to leave their stream of unconsciousness to walk among them.

As soon as her feet hit the ground, Lyssa stepped back and stared at the blond giant who had scared the shit out of her. Two things struck her at once. One, he was huge—close to seven feet tall, and at least two hundred and thirty pounds. Two, he was just as gorgeous as every other Guardian male she’d seen so far. He also had that same delicious accent.

“Cute outfit.” He grinned.

“That’s it,” she muttered. “I’m changing.”

“No, don’t,” he said quickly. “I bet Cross would love to see you in that.”

Her eyes stung at the reminder, and her wardrobe malfunction faded to insignificance. “I need to see him. We need to get moving.”

“Agreed,” Philip said, all traces of humor leaving his handsome features. “We don’t have a lot of time. The Elders have vids everywhere. They’re going to know Lyssa’s here.”