Before I Wake (14 page)

My God, was he getting a hard-on?

He was still watching me, his gaze locked on mine. If it were possible for eyes to burn, then his were on fire. My hand tightened on his shoulder as I shivered—just a little.

Please don’t let him feel my palm sweat.

It had been too long since I’d felt like this. It was a feeling I usually associated with being a teenager, a butterflies-in-my-stomach-heart-pounding feeling. I hadn’t realized how badly I had missed it until now. It was both wonderful and terrible, being so drawn to a person, so physically affected. I had that tingle again, along with that sweet pressure between my legs that betrayed just how eager I was.

The song ended then, and Noah held me close until the last note faded and the band started a more lively number. Then he released me, leaving me damp, aroused, and more than a little shaky. Thank God I was wearing a T-shirt bra because my nipples were like chair legs. Damn him.

“I’ll take you home now,” he said, as we left the dance floor. Was it my imagination, or was he walking faster than usual? Good thing he had my hand because I’m not sure I could have walked very well on my own.

I was tempted to tell him he could take me anywhere he wanted, but all I said was, “Okay.”

We said good-bye to his friends, and I told Matt what a great job he’d done on the song. I purposefully ignored Mia, as looking at her would only ruin this slightly high, doughy feeling I was currently enjoying. I made the mistake of looking at Warren, however. He winked at me.

Outside, Noah hailed a cab, and we climbed in the back. I gave the driver my address, and we were off.

Despite the fact that New York is the “city that never sleeps,” there is generally a surprising lack of traffic at night, and most of that is made up of taxis. We made the trip across town to my apartment fairly quickly and in silence. What we lacked in words we made up for in pent-up tension. Was Noah as anxious and twitchy as I was?

We pulled up outside my building, and I managed to pay the cabbie before he could. He shot me an annoyed glance but didn’t argue as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. I slid out after him.

“Nice building,” he commented, as we climbed the stone steps to my door. My building was an old brick structure with a stucco front that backed out onto a shared courtyard. It wasn’t terribly luxurious or big, but both Lola and I had fallen in love with it the minute we saw it. We had been lucky to get it.

“Thanks,” I said, unlocking the front door. “We like it.” Behind me I could feel his presence as surely as if he had pressed his body against mine.

Inside, we climbed the stairs to the second floor, Noah behind me. Was he watching me? And just how big did my ass look from his angle?

The chain was across as I tried to open our door. I closed it, took my keys from the lock and knocked. I heard the chain slide open, and Lola opened the door. She was wearing Tweety Bird pajamas and had her hair in pigtails. “Hey, chickie…whoa.” In a second her expression went from surprise to shit-eating grin. “Hello there, Mr. Hunky Pants. Come on in.”

That was Lola. She wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t a slut either. She just said whatever the hell she felt like saying.

Noah gave her a lopsided grin. “Hunky Pants. I like that.”

Closing the door behind us, Lola returned the grin. “Who wouldn’t?”

I made the introductions as she slid the bolts and chain into the locked position once more. “Noah, my roommate, Lola.”

My friend winked at me as she shook Noah’s hand. I should introduce her to Warren. They could be obvious winkers together.

“I’m off to bed,” she announced. “Will I see you kids in the morning?”

“Good night,” I said, shooting her a halfhearted glare.

She merely grinned and skipped off to her bedroom.

See how pathetic my social life has been? I come home with a guy, and my roommate is practically jumping out of her skin.

With Lola gone, I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was alone with Noah. Totally alone. It made me nervous.

“Just put your coat anywhere,” I told him as I tossed my own on the back of the futon. “You want a drink?”

He shook his head as he shrugged out of his coat. “No, thanks. What does a Night Terror do?” He kept his voice low, and I appreciated that. I didn’t want Lola to hear.

Back to that. I should have known he’d have more questions. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge, popping it open as I came back out. “Technically, Karatos is a kind of demon that brings terrifying dreams.”

Noah was standing at the mantel, looking at the pictures there. Some of them were of my family, the rest of Lola’s. He turned as I entered the room. “He seemed pretty intense.”

Tell me about it. I could still remember how it felt to have Karatos inside me. Just the thought was enough to make me shudder.

“He’s a nasty piece of work, yes, but he is still answerable to Morpheus.”

He was silent for a few seconds. I could see in his face that he was processing everything I had told him tonight. “And dreams are real?”

“Sort of.” I smiled at his confused expression. “The Dreaming is a real place. Humans can’t travel there in corporeal form, but your mind can. Think of it as another dimension.”

He stared at me, obviously digesting this bit of info. “Were you born there?”

“No. I was born here, in this world.”

“But you can actually go there.” He frowned. “That’s how you ended up in bed with me at the clinic. You didn’t sleepwalk, you physically came out of the dream with me.”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie. I had an idea that I could move between the dimensions, but I had never actually done it that I was aware of, since I’d been asleep anytime I’d ever entered The Dreaming.

Noah shook his head in disbelief. “This is so fucked.”

I had to laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

He took my Coke from my hand and took a drink before handing it back. It was a strangely familiar, intimate gesture that tickled me rather than grossed me out. “It’s so surreal, but I know it’s true because I’ve seen it.”

I wished there was something I could do or say to make this easier for him, but I was having a hard enough time with it myself.

But just like the rest of it, he seemed to be processing it all very well. “Most people would be pretty freaked after going through what you have.”

Broad shoulders shrugged beneath his suit coat. “I’m not like most people.”

“No,” I agreed, raising my gaze to meet his. “You’re not.”

He took my Coke again, but this time he set the can on the mantel, and when he turned back to me he cupped my face in the warm cradle of his palms. “Neither are you,” he informed me, and kissed me before I could even ask what he was doing.

And sweet God, the man could kiss! His mouth was firm, his lips warm as they came down on mine. He held me as though I was fragile. No man had ever held me like that, and it made my throat tight. I was so easy.

His chin brushed mine, slightly rough with just a hint of stubble. My fingers clenched the front of his shirt, fisting the material. A button bit into my palm; I ignored it. The kiss deepened, and I opened my mouth when he did, allowing his tongue to stroke mine.

Our breath mingled, shallow and desperate as our mouths refused to unlock. Noah’s tongue explored my mouth, brushed against my teeth, and I clung to him like I was afraid he might stop before I was ready. He tasted good—faintly of Corona and lime and my Coke. His mouth was warm and wet, and his lips and tongue were oh so talented. I’m not ashamed to say that my knees were weakening or that there were parts of me that very much wanted to rub against parts of him, but I couldn’t move.

It wasn’t until his hands slid down my shoulders, his gently kneading fingers finding the bruises left by my tussle with Morpheus that I pulled back.

Noah immediately held up his hands. “Too much?”

“No,” I admitted, raising my own hand to one of the tender spots just above my left breast. “You hit a couple of bruises.”

He frowned. “Did Karatos do that?”

“My father.” As soon as the words left my mouth I saw the change that came over him. He stiffened, his expression darkening. I knew then that there would be no more kissing. The mood had been broken.

“On purpose?” His voice was low and soft, and strangely void of emotion, as though he was doing it intentionally.

“He hit me with snowballs,” I explained. “He was trying to teach me to morph them into other things.”

“Snowballs.” If relief were a coat, Noah would have been wearing it right then. It might have been funny had it not been directed at me. “Good.”

I thought about the painting called Mother and wondered if there was a connection between that and this weird reaction.

“I should go,” he said, after a moment of silence.

I licked my lower lip. I was still too dazed from our kiss to be disappointed. “Okay.”

Warm fingers came up and touched my cheek. “Tell me you are at least tempted to ask me to stay.”

Oh. A huge pulse went off in my nether regions. “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’m tempted.” I was so frigging tempted.

This time it was he who licked my lip. “Good.”

I released his shirt as he pulled away. I had totally crumpled it, but Noah didn’t seem to mind. I concentrated on trying to steady myself as he walked to where he had tossed his coat. Maybe he moved a little stiffly, but he didn’t seem nearly as discomposed as I was.

And then I saw the tent in the front of his pants. I felt a certain thrill, knowing I was responsible for it.

I walked him to the door, fingers trembling as I unfastened all the locks, aware that he was watching with those hot black eyes of his.

“Take something to suppress REM,” I reminded him. “It should keep Karatos away.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you.” He stepped into the hall.

“You realize,” I informed him, “that this totally destroys our doctor-patient relationship?”

He grinned at me as he started to back away. “I hope so.”

I watched him walk to the end of the hall and returned the little wave he threw me before closing the door and locking it once more. I leaned against the wood for maybe three seconds before I heard Lola’s bedroom door open.

“Well?” she demanded, standing in the archway.

I grinned like an idiot at her. “Next time I say my life sucks, slap me. My life is fan-freaking-tastic.”

I actually managed to believe that, for a while—that my life was fan-freaking-tastic. Even when I didn’t hear from Noah the next day. Even though I had to suffer through Dr. Canning’s treating me like his personal research assistant, getting me to dig up all I could on Sudden Unexplained Nocturnal Death Syndrome. He was very popular these days, it seemed, and now that another case had been reported here in the city, in Chinatown, he was taking advantage of the news coverage.

The death in Chinatown made a bit more sense than these others. At least this man had fit the genetic profile of most cases. The news of another death left me cold all the same. I was no longer looking at the situation as some kind of freaky medical mystery. I was beginning to wonder (and it was about time, I thought) if maybe these deaths weren’t linked to my friend Karatos.

Was this what he had planned for Noah? The thought made me cold all over—panicked to the point of tears, so I pushed it away.

No, if Karatos wanted simply to kill Noah, he probably would have done it by now. My instincts told me that Karatos wanted Noah for something. The fact that Noah was a powerful lucid dreamer was the most likely explanation. Dreamkin got their power from dreams. Even I wasn’t immune. Jackey Jenkins had given me a high, and with Terrors, the more they scared someone, the more powerful they became. Karatos would see Noah like a generator, or maybe a big battery for his own personal supply of juice.

That was good. That meant Noah was more useful alive. Now, if he would just call me like he said he would, I would feel much better about that.

He didn’t call that night either.

When people say they’re going to call, they should give you a time frame. Having a time frame really alleviates the anxiety. I knew that with anyone else I wouldn’t be the least bit concerned about them not calling me right away, but I wanted Noah to call because that would mean that he was safe.

At midnight, after watching Forrest Gump with Lola, I resigned myself to the fact that Noah would not be calling, resolved that he was okay, and went to bed. I had made a promise to Morpheus, and it was time to hold up my end. Fretting about Noah would have to wait.

I wasn’t dreading entering The Dreaming as much as I’d thought I would. I wanted to learn more about what I was—anything that could help against Karatos. And I wanted to use whatever abilities I had to help my patients. If my father could help me with that, then I was more than willing to suffer through whatever he and my mother subjected me to.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love them—I did. Kinda. I was just so damn angry that it was hard to be reasonable. I blamed Morpheus and my mother for almost everything that was wrong with my life. How’s that for honesty? My dad—the man who raised me—had hired someone to “sit” with my mother while he was at work. Someone to be in the house just in case she woke up, and meanwhile she was partying it up in The Dreaming. Pissed didn’t begin to describe how I felt.

When I came into The Dreaming, I was on the shore. The Dreaming is an island surrounded by turbulent ocean and swirling mist.

As a child, Morpheus used to make this beach a haven for me, but tonight I saw it as it was—a dark, creepy expanse of fog and sand that housed things much nastier than crabs or jellyfish.

The mist had a consciousness of its own. I should have given more thought to where I wanted to enter. I should have opened a doorway right into the castle. I used to be able to do it, when I was a kid, but now…I was out of practice, and I just might get my ass kicked for it.

Okay, so I had two choices. I could panic and let my fear draw whatever badness was hiding in the mist, or I could try to concentrate on moving myself to the castle, where it was safe. It was The Dreaming after all, and I was only limited by my mind.