The Dream Crafter(51)
“Got it, and you gotta know you’re going to be owing me big time if you survive this.”
“I know. And I’ll pay.”
“Stay alive.”
“Back at you.” That ended the call, and Merc tossed the phone onto the end of the bed before lying down, turning so he could study Amana’s face up close.
Reign’s involvement meant more than a new faction after the Spellbook. It meant a new faction aware of Amana, and unlike most others, this faction would be aware of Dream Crafters…hells, there was a good chance Reign may have been around before they were exterminated, so he would know exactly what Amana was.
A Dream Crafter in the hands of a necromancer would be a horrorscape of unimaginable proportions, and even with his mastery over his body, Merc still couldn’t shake the chill invading at the possibility.
His Amana as Reign’s puppet…no. No, he would lay waste to all the Realms before he’d allow that terror to occur.
He ran his fingertips over the smooth skin of her cheek, her warmth invading his body and fighting the lingering effects of the conversation.
He had lied earlier, still trying to protect himself though it was useless. It didn’t matter what she did. If he survived this bound, they were going to get past this, and he was going to remain with her as long as she allowed him. Would make it his right and privilege to protect her against any who would harm her.
All the power housed in this delicate body, and she lived her life terrified. He’d seen that from the first, though he hadn’t been able to place it until the second dream, the nervous, haunted edge that she could never get rid of, no matter how much bravado she layered upon herself.
What he hadn’t understood until tonight was that she wasn’t terrified for herself. She was terrified for her brother. She was terrified over the possibility she would harm people. Her concern was always for others.
A woman like that in the hands of necromancers?
He leaned close to her, his forehead against hers, and breathed deep. He couldn’t make promises, not really, not in his predicament, but inside him a promise formed nonetheless, his mind and soul uniting in the common goal of keeping her safe and protected from this moment of her life and from now on.
It didn’t matter if her brother was a serial murderer, Merc was going to bust him out of jail.
It didn’t matter if Reign discovered her secret, the Master Vampire was never going to get his hands on her.
No fight and no sacrifice would be avoided if it meant she could begin living her life free of that constant fear.
Merc closed his eyes, his consciousness drifting, and in the moments before consciousness faded listened as his heartbeat synced in time with hers.
Chapter Twenty-Six
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“He’s so cute sleeping there, isn’t he?”
Sitting on the bed at Merc’s feet, the blue eyes of Amana’s double were fixed on Merc, on how Merc’s hand was entwined with that of the sleeping body of Amana, the two cuddled together.
Amana’s consciousness was seated next to the bed, watching in ridiculous envy because though Merc was holding her hand, she couldn’t feel the warm touch of skin to skin or feel the puff of breath as it hit her cheek with their synchronized breathing.
“And it’s sweet,” the devil continued, glancing now at Amana, “how he fell asleep next to you. Part of it is exhaustion, of course, but deep down, it’s because he trusts you.”
“He shouldn’t.” Amana rose, her movements slow and controlled as she came to stand in front of the doppelganger, though her brain screamed move faster, protect Merc. “Get up and get away from him.”
The other’s arms crossed over her chest. “Why would I do anything to your poor boy?”
“I don’t know why you do anything, so I want you away from everything.”
The other Amana rose, those stormy teal eyes housed in a face that twisted into a mask of scorn. “I could ask for a little more appreciation from you, but I guess that’s hoping for too much.”
Amana said nothing else until the other was away from the bed and from Merc. “Since you destroyed my life, I think you’re right about that.”
The other hopped onto the railing, her whole countenance telling of complete disinterest in the conversation. Her chest rose and fell as if she was breathing, the lines of her throat contracting in a swallow before she said, “I didn’t do anything you didn’t want done.”
That uncomfortable truth made Amana’s shoulders go back, her head hang for a moment as she looked toward the wall. In the attic of her memories something stirred, and Amana double-checked those locks were strong. “What people want and what should happen are two different things.”