Warm lips on her neck stayed her hands, her pulse, and her breath. She closed her eyes and moaned.
“I like it when you do that,” he said against her neck.
She leaned her head back, turning it to the side, giving him better access. “Dorian…I…can’t…think…” she groaned and forced herself away from the fire following his hands as he moved them up her sides to her breasts.
“Geesh!” The word came out in a whoosh. “Please get dressed. Please,” she begged.
He was already pulling a black tee over his head. She watched as he pulled it down over rippling muscles.
“You’re not helping, either, you know.” He smiled at her. “Those emerald orbs have fire in them,” he leaned over and kissed, first one lid, then the other. “It makes my blood boil.”
“Dorian?”
“Hmmm?”
“Do they glow in the dark?” she asked him.
He looked at her, his brows coming together in a frown.
“My eyes? Like the Gulatega?” She had always worried about it. Since Dr. Yancy had said that she saw beyond the normal spectrum, she wondered—no, hoped—that she was the only one who saw them glow in the dark.
Dorian studied her, looking into her eyes. “Your eyes glitter, like cut emeralds, and sometimes I see a sparkle in the dark. But glow, no.” He laughed a small laugh. “Melissa used to read an old comic called “Brenda Starr” about an adventurous reporter. Melissa loved the fact that they would print a star in her green eyes. That’s what I think of when I see your eyes. They are nothing like you describe the Gulatega.”
Morgan felt better. No, she felt good. As close to normal as she ever had.
“You know, by the way,” Dorian said, thoughtfully, “I can see Ian’s eyes glow and his outline. Is that how the Gulatega appear?”
“Yes and no. Ian has substance. The Gulatega don’t have that substance. It’s the glow that actually defines them.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Dorian said as he went and sat down in one of the chairs beside the fireplace. “Ian wants to go through the portal. We don’t know that he’ll live once he gets there.”
“He definitely won’t live much longer here,” she walked over to the narrow window and looked out. She could see the ocean in the distance. It was calm, the waves breaking small. Very different from what she was feeling inside. She felt like she had the ocean’s store of energy and it sought land upon which to crash. She turned to Dorian. He was tossing a ball of energy from hand to hand. He shot it up in the air and it popped. She felt the tingle as her hair reacted to the static.
She pulled her attention back to the problems ahead of them. “I’m worried about Kayla and Meadow as well. I know he left the will, leaving them everything. If we help him go through the portal, he disappears. No body, no death. I don’t know much about this sort of thing, but I think they’ll have to wait seven years for him to be declared dead.”
“As much as I hate it, I think we need to bring Bask in on this. And I have a feeling he’s not going to like it at all.”
“I want to help Ian, in spite of what he’s done.” She moved back to the chair opposite him. “I don’t know why, but I seem almost compelled to help him.”
“Do you think it’s him? Is he making you feel this way?” Dorian looked concerned.
“No. He could have done that earlier. He didn’t.” She shrugged. “Maybe we should talk with him first. Then call Bask.”
“Just be careful, Morgan. I don’t—”
She moved to stand between his legs, looking down into his upturned face. “I’ve got you,” she interrupted, brushing back an errant lock of black hair. “Besides, he needs both of us to open the portal.”
A horrifying thought entered his mind. Ian had taken Morgan, but it took two to open the portal. Who did Ian expect to help Morgan? Ian. God, had he planned to drag her through with him? As the thoughts played through his mind, his arms went around her and he buried his face into her midriff, inhaling the sweet scent that was Morgan. He could have lost her.
Without telling her the direction of his thoughts, he stood, took her mouth with his and poured himself into the kiss. When he pulled back, they were both breathless.
“Let’s go talk to Ian,” he whispered. “But keep your distance. I don’t trust him.”
“Me either,” she laid her head against his chest for a moment. “Me either.”
Ian was awake when they entered the room. He was sitting up, his back against the wall. The creatures were moving about his feet, a little further away from his body. Morgan pulled Dorian further away, across the room toward the cot where she’d been tied. They sat, side by side on the cot.
Ian lifted one side of his lip in a half smile, half sneer. “I see you’ve availed yourselves of my hospitality.”
Morgan blushed. Dorian smiled back. “And nice accommodations they are, too,” he challenged.
Ian laughed. “No fool you. Keep yourself and your mate strong, by all means.”
“By all means,” Dorian hissed through clenched teeth.
Morgan took a breath, ignoring Ian’s slight. “We’ve come to discuss helping you. You might want to choose your words more carefully.” Her tone was even and clipped, her eyes blazed.
Ian looked at her, tilted his head and studied her. “Why?”
“You’re dying and, unlike you,” she added the dig, “we have a sense of humanity.”
“So the witch and her wizard are going to send the wicked sorcerer back from whence he came.”
“Ian,” she straightened, fighting not to let his ugliness alter her intent, “you didn’t come from there any more than we did. However, something has you convinced that you will survive on the other side, better than here. If you can convince us of that fact, maybe—just maybe—we will consent to help you get there.” His sneer propelled her. “Or to hell, for that matter—it makes no difference to me.”
Ian looked at Dorian. “She has spunk, that’s for sure. Shame I didn’t get to her first.”
Dorian started off the cot. Morgan’s hand grabbed his wrist. She felt his energy pulse and rise.
“You didn’t,” she chided. “And…” she paused for effect, “I seriously doubt you would have been successful. I still have free will.”
Ian harrumphed.
Morgan found him appalling. For two cents, she’d shove him and his little creatures right through the portal, ready or not. Dorian sensed her anger and took her hand in his. They looked at one another. It was one of those moments when they knew exactly what the other was thinking and it didn’t need to be spelled out. They smiled at one another.
Dorian spoke, “Say we decide to help you ‘cross over.’ You disappear. What happens to Kayla and Meadow?”
“Besides becoming very wealthy women?”
“There won’t be any body,” Morgan stated.
Ian smiled. This time it seemed genuine. “I’ve taken care of that. I will need to talk to that asshole of an attorney you have—Bask—first. I would prefer to do that in private. The less you know about my business the happier I’ll be.”
“As long as Bask okays it, we’re good to go. Oh, one thing. I want John here during our little experiment. As a safety. Well…actually…his
safety
will be off.” Dorian stated matter-of-factly.
Ian shrugged. He was growing weaker. His bravado was slipping.
Dorian dialed Bask. They spoke for a few minutes and he handed Ian the phone. The man, even slumping next to the sink, held quite a presence. Dorian took Morgan’s hand and led her out of the room.
Someone knocked on the front door. Dorian opened it to John.
“You want me?”
“How does Bask do that?” Morgan asked.
Dorian just shrugged and led them back down the corridor, explaining the make shift plan that they had so far. John’s response was to check his weapon.
“I’m ready. I would like nothing better than to have to shoot that son of a bitch.”
Morgan placed her hand gently on his arm. He looked at her and shook his head. “I suppose I have some anger issues where Ian’s concerned.”
“I don’t blame you. He’s not a very nice man.”
“Ironically, he was. When he was dating Kayla, we all liked him. He was funny and fun loving, and seemed to adore her. Things started changing about three years ago.”
“He’s sick, John. In fact, if he stays here, he’s going to die.”
“Couldn’t happen to a…” John let the words trail off.
“How are Kayla and Meadow?” Morgan reached for a better topic.
John immediately brightened. “Great. Meadow’s healing very rapidly. I guess I can be grateful to Ian for that one fact. Kayla’s talking about getting an apartment in the area. She likes it up here.”
Morgan brightened. “I might have a great idea. I have an apartment. It has two bedrooms and allows pets.” She was thinking of Mrs. T. “You might mention it.”
Dorian watched her. This was the first mention she had given that she might be going back with him. Her eyes caught his and held.
John saw the exchange. “I think I’ll go call Kayla right now.” He pulled out his phone and walked toward the front of the house.
“You’re coming home with me?” Dorian asked.
“I…I’ve been thinking about it,” Morgan whispered, her voice failing her.
“Please, come home with me,” he said and stepped in front of her, framing her face in his hands.
“Hey out there!” Ian yelled through the door. “Come get this infernal phone. He wants to talk to his minion.”
Morgan and Dorian broke apart. Dorian stepped toward the door and turned back to her. “This discussion is only tabled.”
She nodded and followed him into the room.
Morgan was astounded. For all of his bravado, Ian looked like he’d aged five more years. There was a sheen of sweat across his brow and his skin had a grey pallor and was now etched with deep lines. She took Dorian’s hand and closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she looked at his aura. There were pits in it. Even the glow that surrounded him had taken on a mottled look. The creatures were swirling closer to his middle again, almost as if they were trying to give him strength. However, she couldn’t be sure of that. When Dorian stepped forward to retrieve the phone, they turned to him in unison, their eyes widening, their glow deepening. Where they warning him off, or finding an attraction to his energy? They made no move toward him. When he stepped back out of range, they settled back around Ian’s middle.
She blinked, returning his image to normal, or what was normal for him. The violet glow, even broken, encircled him, whether she looked at him with enhanced vision or not. She glanced down at the small creatures nestled close to him. They were the same color. The closer they got, the more even his aura became. Morgan believed he might just be a throwback of the humanoid individuals he claimed once crossed into this plane.
“I’ve a fax machine in the library. Bask will be sending some legal crap for me to sign. When you go get that, bring the white envelope on the desk back with you. You will give that to Bask. He knows about it. Let’s get this show on the road.” He dismissed them and settled back against the wall.
Dorian talked with Bask as they walked into the library where the fax machine was already spitting out papers. Morgan pulled out the documents, took them to the desk and stapled the sets together, grabbed a clipboard from the desktop and a pen from the drawer.
Dorian picked up the envelope from the desk. “Do you trust this to be what he says?” he asked into the cell phone.
“Given our discussion, yes,” Bask said. “Have him sign all copies and fax them to me. Then, you two will do your thing and pray it goes as planned. Give John the envelope, as well as the signed forms. You’ll take John’s car and head back to Morgan’s parents’ house. John will wait there for the Abbott crew.”
“What do we say to Kayla and Meadow?” Morgan asked Dorian, who relayed it to Bask.
“John will take care of it. I want you two as far away from this as soon as possible, understand?”
“Yes.” Dorian said and hung up.
Morgan didn’t want to think about the implications of what they were doing. She knew she was an accessory to something. She didn’t want to go any further than that. She kept Meadow in her mind and tried to think how much better she would be without Ian in her life. Kayla, too. His death was imminent. Putting him through the portal could save him, if his theories were right. If not… She didn’t want to think about that.