Pleasures of the Night(72)

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.”