Nightmares, the Gateway, endless years of death and war…None had struck terror in him like the sight of his own face staring back at him.
“Lyssa.” His voice was low and gravelly, forcing him to clear his throat before he could go on. “Have you shown these to anyone else?”
“What?” She nuzzled into his throat, her lips brushing against his skin. Golden hair flowed across the arm he used to hold her close, hair that smelled of flowers and hard sex, a potent combination that stirred him deep inside.
“These pictures, have you shared them with other Guardians?”
“No.” She pulled back, her dark eyes capped with a frown. “Why?”
“We must destroy them.” His hands shook. What can I do?
“Why?” She lifted her head to look at the image with a soft, adoring smile. “I told you the lighting was bad. I couldn’t make out your eye color in the candlelight. Your irises are such a deep blue, they looked dark. And your hair. The silver is so faint.” She glanced at him. “But I like it. In fact, it turns me on.”
He inhaled sharply. All this time it had been his appearance she enjoyed so much. Even as masculine satisfaction spread warmth through his veins, the ramifications of her unique cognizance spread goose bumps across his skin.
She winced. “Am I that far off from how you really look? I’m sorry. We’ll tear them up and throw them away.”
Everything he knew, all the work of his friends and the Elders, all his training…For one thing…
To kill the Key. A prophecy whose traits Lyssa displayed in abundance—she controlled the dream, she called him by name, she could see him. It was the last that was the most damning. That she could see into the Twilight. It was rare enough to find those Dreamers who recognized that they were dreaming and took control of the events. Never had they found a Dreamer who could see clearly into their world and comprehended that they were interacting with a real being. If the Elders learned of her abilities, they would kill her. Aidan himself didn’t know what to make of the revelation.
But he’d think about it later. Right now he needed to find a way to keep Lyssa safe. Every time she fell asleep, she was in danger. Time was running out. If the Elders didn’t know what she was capable of yet, they soon would.
“When the Guardians come to you, do they ask you to describe them? To draw them? Anything like that?”
“Yes. Weirdos.” She wrinkled her nose. “I told them this isn’t a dog show. I’m not jumping hoops.”
Aidan hugged her tightly to him. He couldn’t do a damn thing for her in the Twilight. By the time sleep brought her here, she was vulnerable. He had to protect her before she arrived. Before she fell asleep.
What the hell am I going to do?
If only there were more Guardians who harbored the same doubts he did, he could ask for their help. If enough of them approached the Elders as one voice, perhaps they would be heard. But if there were others like him, they guarded their thoughts as zealously as he had. As far as he knew, he was the only one to question the wisdom of the Elders.
She could lock herself in again…
But who knew how long it would take him to build support. She had been on the verge of losing her mind when he found her, a recollection that led him to a darker thought.
Perhaps she hadn’t been hiding from the Nightmares. Perhaps all this time she had been hiding from him. From his kind. She’d been a child when she first erected the door. With her ability to see into the Twilight, she might have been frightened of the Guardians who came to see her.
What the fuck was he going to do? He couldn’t take on both the Guardians and the Nightmares alone. If he couldn’t alter the Elders’ reasoning, there would be only one recourse.
He would have to leave the Twilight. He would have to protect Lyssa from the Outside.
There had to be a way to journey into her world. The Elders had created the fissure in abbreviated space that led them to this conduit. Surely they could do it again.
He was about to find out.
Despite the certainty he felt in his decision, he was aware of the ramifications. In addition to all the inherent risks, it would be only a temporary measure, a desperate tactic to buy Lyssa some time until he could figure out what to do. Figure out a way to convince the Elders of their grave error.
“You’re thinking so hard, I can hear your brain ticking,” she said dryly, nipping at his jaw with her teeth. “Are you really upset about my pictures? I’m sorry. I—”
“Lyssa, no.” He cupped the back of her head and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. “Don’t be sorry. The drawings are wonderful. I’m flattered.”