Reading Online Novel

Stars of Fortune(72)



When she peaked, he rose up to her, wrapped her to him. Heart to heart he took her up again, and let himself fly with her.

He held her, stroking her hair, her back, trying to level himself again. No woman had ever taken him over so completely, had ever tangled body, heart, mind so thoroughly.

He wasn’t altogether sure how he felt about it.

Then she sighed his name, just his name, and he decided he’d think later.

“About these dreams of yours.”

She laughed, sighed again. “There were about three months’ worth.”

“That ought to keep us busy.” He eased back to look at her. “But now you’re sleepy. I can see it.”

“Relaxed.”

“We’ll both stay that way. Tomorrow’s bound to be as demanding as today.”

“Is Riley back, do you think? Maybe I should check.”

“She’ll be back by morning.”

He eased her down, curled her in. And when she drifted off, slipped out to work.

An hour or two, he thought, and he might have something he could use if her vision that morning came calling.



He spent longer than he’d planned, and calculated he’d squeeze in three hours’ sleep beside her before dawn broke. The power he’d pulled on still tingled along his skin. Perhaps that was why she murmured in her sleep, trembled a little.

Once again he curled her against him, soothing them both until he could drop into sleep with her.

He woke in the dark.

She stood in the moonlight, her body tense and turned toward the doors.

“What is it?”

“They’re coming. Get up, get dressed. We don’t have much time.”

He flicked a hand to bring in more light. Dream-walking, he noted when he saw her eyes. “What’s coming?”

“Her dogs. Ours know it. Can’t you hear them howling? Hurry.” She grabbed her clothes, began to yank them on as he got out of bed. “Where’s my bow?” she demanded.

“Your bow?”

“There it is.” She picked up . . . nothing. Made motions as if slinging a strap over her back. “Hurry, Bran, we have to wake the others.”

“I will.” He tugged on pants. “Stay here. Sasha, wait for me.”

“Hurry.”

“Stay here.” He went out, banged a fist on Sawyer’s door. “Get up!” he called out. “Get the others. Something’s coming.”

He didn’t wait, but turned toward his own room before Sawyer pushed open the door.

“What?”

“I don’t know what.” Bran kept moving. “But get the others, and get armed.”

He took time to grab a shirt, a knife, and several of the vials of the potion he’d just made. He’d planned for them to cure several more hours, but they’d have to do.

When he pushed back into Sasha’s room, she’d pulled on boots, a jacket. Dream-struck still, he thought, but she looked . . . tougher, bolder.

He debated a moment, but when he heard Apollo howl, a long, deep warning, he knew he couldn’t leave her dreaming.

He moved to her, set his hands on her shoulders. “Wake,” he ordered. “Wake now.”

She blinked, jerked back. “What . . .” Apollo howled again, and the call was answered by another. Deeper, more feral.

“Not a dream,” she said.

“Take this.” He took her hand, put the knife in it. “It’s enchanted. Trust it, and yourself. I need you to stay close to me, Sasha.”

“They’re coming. What I saw this morning.”

“I think yes. We can’t risk staying inside, waiting to see what they’ll do.”

“No.” She looked down at the knife, that bright, sharp silver. And prayed her hand wouldn’t shake. “The others.”

“Coming. You warned us in time. Close to me,” he repeated, and moved to the terrace doors.

The wind blew in, and carried an ugly hint of something foul. It amazed her how he stepped out into it, without hesitation. She took a breath, gripped the knife, and stepped out with him.

“Close the doors,” he told her as he scanned sea and sky. “No point issuing an invitation.”

“I don’t see anything yet. But—”

“They’re coming. You had the right of it. We make a stand, I think, away from the house.”

“Clearer ground,” Doyle said, and with his coat flapping around his knees, he strode across the terrace toward them. “Around by the olive grove. And cover in there if we need it.” He sniffed the air like a wolf. “Hell smoke.”

“It ain’t my sister’s perfume.” Sawyer, a gun at each hip, came toward them with Annika.

“I locked Apollo in,” Annika said as he continued to howl. “He could get hurt if he came out.”