Tangible (Dreamwalker) (8 page)

“It won’t be me coming in here after you if you fall asleep in the tub,” Lillian warned. “I have to stand guard. It’ll be Zeke.”

“Is he mad because he didn’t want to be saddled with me?” Zeke hadn’t seemed interested in mentoring her, even though he’d kissed her. His mixed signals of attraction and annoyance did make the idea of becoming chummy with him less appealing.

“No, he’s not mad at you. It’s an awkward situation.” Lillian snapped the kit shut. “Go easy on him, Maggie. Cooperate as best you can, even if what he wants from you seems...odd. He’s got his own hang ups about doing this. If you can avoid butting heads with him, that will help us all. Do what he says, when he says, and how he says.”

“I don’t like being ordered around.” Maggie rubbed grit off her arms. “I don’t accept much of anything on faith.”

“Fake it,” Lillian advised. “And one more thing. Don’t have sex with him.”

Maggie’s face heated. “I hardly even know him.”

“Does that matter, when you’ve been thinking what I suspect you’ve been thinking about him?” Lillian asked. “It’s understandable. The tangible is affecting you, and God knows he’s not ugly. But maintain that distance between you anyway.”

She couldn’t believe she was asking this, but she had to know. “No sex ever? Or is later okay?” She stared at some wraith residue on Lillian’s flak vest rather than meet her gaze.

Lillian chuckled. “Later’s okay. If you still want him. Once you’ve dealt with ole Zeke for a month or two, you may find the attraction wanes. Which won’t help you now, I’m afraid. I’m sorry I couldn’t mentor you so you wouldn’t have this particular challenge. And for your own sake. You’re quite a catch, lady.”

“How so?”

“Everything we’ve seen indicates you have a lot of potential. A lot of power. Your mentor will get a fat bonus, damn him.” Lillian smiled. “I could buy a lot of cookbooks with that kind of money. But your strength means you need to be careful. For your sake and his.”

“I’m always careful.” She prided herself on good decision-making and sensible choices, on never rushing into anything. How much would that help her when she was about to crawl into bed with Zeke, under strict instructions to do whatever he told her to do?

She kept thinking of his kiss, the muscles in his arms and his stomach, the tiny scar on his chin. He hadn’t denied being attracted to her, and she couldn’t deny being attracted to him. That attraction troubled his coworkers.

What if he told her to have sex with him? Was she supposed to fake that too?

Lillian patted her shoulder. “Be quick in the shower. The two of you need several hours’ sleep your first time together.” Then she slipped out the door, and closed it behind her with a quiet snick.

Chapter Five

After Lillian left, Zeke shook out Maggie’s pillows and blankets and waited for her to emerge from the bathroom. Lillian’s inability to connect to Maggie was unlucky but not unheard of, considering the tangible. This was why they stationed guards on neos.

Just in case the first mentor didn’t work out. Just in case the first mentor couldn’t handle the neo’s conduits. Just in case the first mentor was a fool.

Lillian wasn’t a fool. Lillian had never screwed her way into a Harrisburg, leaving herself vulnerable to future lapses. There’d been a good chance Zeke’s tangible with Maggie wouldn’t prevent Lillian from linking with her, but that hadn’t been the case. Now the only alucinators who could train Maggie were Zeke or a curator.

When the curators did, it wasn’t always to the disciple’s benefit.

The ECT wasn’t optimal, either. The shocks affected L4s and L5s more than lower-level dreamers. Not only could the ECT scramble Maggie’s abilities, but it could put her to sleep. Permanently.

As much as he hated it, it was better the ECT fry her brain than she become an open conduit for wraiths to invade the terra firma. And it was better yet if he could manage to do his damn job and teach her what she needed to know.

He paused with his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans before stripping to his boxers and climbing under the inviting blankets. Maintaining skin contact was vital in phase one. The more he exposed the better. He could hear Maggie’s shower, the whine of the heater unit, and the street outside the three-story house.

Nothing else. Nothing to distract him from imagining her naked, water sluicing her curves.

He shouldn’t think about her this way, but he was still a human being—and as it happened, he hadn’t had sex in a year. Not since Karen.

Was Maggie a talker? A moaner? Did she like it on top or bottom? Would she wrap her legs around him and dig her fingernails into his shoulders when she came?

Could he
get any harder? Or stupider?

Damn it, he had to master the lust. Over the years he’d trained countless dreamers and experienced tangibles with a few. Harrisburg had been the only time he’d had sex with one of his students. Even then, he hadn’t experienced such immediate desire. Karen had come onto him for weeks and he’d succumbed, swayed by the tangible and confident her training was going well.

He’d been wrong on all counts and he had the wounds to show for it. He couldn’t afford to be wrong again. Yet here he was, mentoring Maggie when he was so attracted to her the mere thought of her gave him an erection.

The shower cranked off. Pipes clunked and groaned, an echo in the night. His team was deployed in the house and alley in the event things went awry. Again. Then there was the brother to contend with. Maggie hadn’t said much about Hayden except he worked in DC and would be annoyed if he stumbled across a field team lurking around the house. They’d do a background check on him too.

If his team could handle Maggie’s vampires, they could handle her ornery brother.

The real question was whether he could handle Maggie.

The bathroom door opened, spilling light and steam into the cold bedroom. He dragged the blankets to his chin and propped up a knee—not out of modesty but to conceal his hard-on.

“Can you step out of the room?” Maggie asked through the crack in the door.

He sat up, instantly suspicious. “What for?”

“I need to get dressed and...” Maggie paused for a huge yawn, tried to finish talking, and yawned again. “Jeez. My clothes are out there.”

He leaned across the bed and clicked off the bedside lamp, throwing the room into darkness.

“I won’t watch,” he lied. If she was yawning that ferociously, she was exhausted, and disciples had been known to keel over mid-sentence during phase one.

Maggie, wrapped in a towel, switched off the bathroom light and hurried to her dresser. Terrycloth whispered against her skin, her feet against the hardwood floor.

“It’s really cold,” she murmured. A board creaked as she shifted her weight. A drawer opened.

He punched his pillow and then fluffed hers. “Don’t cover too much of yourself.”

“It’s twenty degrees outside. As you kindly pointed out, the heat in this house is not evenly distributed.”

“You aren’t about to freeze with both of us in a double bed,” he said dryly. “I need your skin.”

The dresser drawer thunked. “Lillian and I held hands.”

“That worked out real well.” He didn’t add that it might have been fine without a preexisting tangible. “If you put on too many clothes, I’ll have to take them off you, Maggie. Don’t be a pill.”

She didn’t respond. He could barely distinguish her outline as the towel hit the floor and a garment drifted down to conceal her. Another drawer opened and shut. Her body bent as she stepped hastily into panties, PJs—something on her bottom half.

“Come to bed.” He flipped her side of the heavy covers back, careful to keep his midsection under wraps. It wouldn’t help her relax if she knew how turned on he was. “We have work to do.”

She inched onto the edge of the mattress. The scents of soap and vanilla teased him. As she fiddled with the clock on the bedside table, he suppressed the urge to drag her into his arms.

“Should I set an alarm?”

“Nah, they’ll wake us if they need us.” Zeke rolled onto his back. Maybe he should grab a cold shower before they tried this. Or stand outside in his underwear for five minutes.

Maggie hugged the edge of the bed like it would save her from the night ahead. He closed his eyes. Shutting off his visuals sharpened his other senses, and his awareness of her grew instead of faded. The sounds of her nervous breathing, her body settling into the sheets. The smell of her hair and skin, warm and sultry. The incline of the old mattress, urging them together.

When he touched her—and he had to touch her—would she startle right out of bed?

“This isn’t going to work,” he began.

“We haven’t even tried,” she said, a little panicky. “You don’t know for certain you can’t connect with me. Just tell me what to do. I don’t want the ECT.”

He chuckled. “This isn’t going to work if you can’t relax. I don’t wanna tranq you. It slows your reaction time inside and outside the dreamsphere. And you’re way too new for me to piggyback you in awake.”

He rolled onto his side and stretched until his hand encountered her flannel-clad shoulder. She inhaled. He located the bare flesh of her neck. She exhaled but didn’t wriggle away when he stroked. A bandage covered the bite mark.

“Tell me about Harrisburg,” she whispered.

“Not important.”

“I fail to believe that.”

“I will tomorrow,” he conceded. Her desire to understand all factors was legitimate, but it would have to wait. “Tonight, we need to sleep.”

He slid a finger under the neckline of her gown and traced her collarbone. Back and forth, he feathered across her silken skin and her pulse thrummed beneath his fingertips. The fuzzy nightgown had long sleeves.

“You countin’ sheep?” he whispered.

“Uh-huh.”

The tangible pushed him, encouraging more. He allowed his hand to stray. Down her arm, her torso, to her hips and legs.

She was completely covered except for hands and face.

This was definitely not going to work.

“Your nightgown is very...clothy.” He cupped her jaw and touched her mouth with his thumb. “Bet you could make three pairs of pants out of it.”

Her lips parted. He felt hot breath on his fingers.

“I’m not wearing socks.” Beneath the covers, her cold toes brushed his shin. “You wouldn’t realize this, but that’s a huge concession.”

As much as he wanted to kiss those soft lips, doing so wouldn’t help either of them. He reached behind her head, where her hair was damp from the shower, and massaged.

“If you leave your hand there, that might work,” she suggested breathlessly. “I tend to sleep on my back.”

Outside phase one, he could monitor her without touching. They’d be familiar with one another’s signature, their essence, and drawn to that familiarity. The tangible acted as a fastener, keeping their skin in contact.

But they didn’t know each other. Not yet. And he’d told her very explicitly not to put on so many clothes.

“Maggie, Maggie. I did warn you what I was going to do if you didn’t cooperate,” he said softly. His fingers located buttons at the front of the gown. “We can’t risk losing each other. I need more skin, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think this a good idea.” She drew the blankets to her chin. “I have short sleeved pajamas. I’ll change.”

“Too late.” Beneath the blankets, he slid buttons free. She trembled. He was careful not to touch her breasts. It wasn’t easy.

“Don’t you dare do this,” she said unconvincingly. Unfortunately, he could guess how much she wanted him to do this and more.

“What exactly do you think I’m gonna do?” Slowly, he finished the row of tiny buttons all the way to her belly. He let his fingertip tickle up the center of her body, between her breasts, until he gripped the shoulder of her gown. “I’m just gonna undress you.”

She caught his hand. “Lillian said we shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?” God, what had possessed him? He shouldn’t bait her. Shouldn’t undress her. Shouldn’t want her.

He knew what Lillian had, wisely, warned her about. The exact thing his team was worried about, though they tried to hide it. If he became involved with an L5 disciple, which Maggie might be, people could die again.

There was no use pointing out Maggie wasn’t Karen. Maggie wasn’t a psychopath hiding her deviance from the rest of the world. Even assuming Maggie was sane, Karen had weakened his protections. If he weren’t careful he could get sucked into the wildness of Maggie’s uncontrolled dreamsphere and lose both of them.

The more he wanted to be close to her, the more likely that would be.

And right now her nearness—her delicious skin, the smell of her, the thought of being inside her—woke a devil inside him.

He caught the other shoulder of her gown. “I need to touch you.”

“You need to stop.” Her fingers lingered on his wrist, hesitant, light. She could no more resist him than he could resist her.

“Will that be difficult for you?” he asked. “Stopping?”

“Of course not,” she said without conviction. Her hand caressed his forearm.

“All right, then.” Zeke sat up. Cold air swept his torso as he dragged her voluminous gown over her head. The act of undressing her made his cock harder.