Pleasures of the Night(69)
All this time, the Guardians had assumed their moments spent in a Dreamer’s stream of unconsciousness were private. They were not.
Which means they would have known of the captain’s suspicions about the Dreamer. They would have seen the growing attachment between the two. Perhaps they had even fostered it by sending him back to her. They had allowed the relationship to progress because they were aware, not because they were ignorant.
Intrigued and horrified by the thought, Connor set to work, running through the archives with nimble keystrokes, trying to prove or disprove his guess. A quick glance toward the doorway showed him that the hallway floor had resumed its appearance of marble now that he no longer stood upon it. Too many oddities in a world he once thought he understood completely.
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.