Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 (7 page)

Sleep came quickly, and with it a dream.

She was drifting, her feet barely touching the soft moss of the forest path. All was warmth and pleasure, the trees around her gently nodding in approval as she moved beneath their welcoming branches.

She was going somewhere, that she knew. And it wasn’t far now, a destination ahead toward which she eagerly hurried. There was no sense of anxiety, just an overwhelming urgency to get there, to stand—to breathe—to accept who and what she was.

And share it. With him.

There—a few more steps and she was there, a clearing dappled with moonbeams, surrounded by ancient oaks and massive firs that enclosed her as securely as any walls could have done. Almost circular, with more soft moss beneath her bare feet, it stretched for several yards in every direction.

And it felt—
right
.

Pandora smiled to herself. This was the place.
Her
place.

She lifted her arms wide, embracing the essence of nature, opening her heart and her mind to the spirits around her. She felt the warmth of their welcome, their delight in sharing this moment with her.

She dropped her controls and felt the stirrings of wings emerging from her back. It was a joyous release, this growing of branches, this leafing in of her special gifts. Her bare toes lengthened into roots, burying themselves in the moss and through to the rich loam beneath, drawing soul-deep nourishment and bringing a tiny sound of pleasure to her lips.

She rested, lost in her ecstasy, free at last to explore all that she’d kept so well hidden while awake. She knew she dreamed, with that peculiar ability of the mind to accept what was real and what wasn’t. But asleep, she was unfettered by controls, naked in her bliss, liberated in a place where nobody could follow.

However, on this particular night, in this particular dream, Pandora had made an erroneous assumption. She was not alone.

“My God you’re beautiful.”

He was there. All long legs and blond hair and those blue eyes gazing at her, roaming over her naked body even as she remained rooted to the earth.

“I am?”

“Yes.” He neared her. “More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.” Dressed in some kind of robe that reminded Pandora of a Druid painting she’d seen once, he drifted close—closer—until she could clearly see the tiny flecks of gold that dappled his irises.

“I need to touch you.”

She was caught, locked into the earth, immobile. “I—”

“Sshh. Let me touch you.” He reached for her, gently running his hand from her neck down over her shoulder to her arm and then back again. “So smooth. So warm.”

She trembled, feeling the leaves of her wings shake gently behind her. “You can see me?”

“I see you. I see you as you should always be. Something amazing, something magnificent.” His hand drifted lower now, softly stroking her breast. “Something
elemental
.”

Arousal slid through Pandora, a hot trickle of excitement. She was surprised to feel her toes retracting from the moss, freeing her to take a step—not away from him but toward him, into his hand, his heat, his eyes.

It was as if the earth, which comforted and sustained her, had released her to find comfort elsewhere. She’d been granted permission to be with this man, to accept his touches even as he seemed to accept what she was.

A blessing had been given. Now it remained to be seen where that blessing would lead.

“Pandora.”

He spoke her name as he closed the distance between them and lowered his lips to hers, bending his head just a little. She felt the brush of his breath on her cheek an instant before he kissed her.

Then she forgot everything else, including her own name and where she was.

It’s only a dream. It’s only a dream.

The thought was there, but it made no sense to her muddled brain. The only thing that she knew was the taste of his mouth, the feel of his tongue as he slid past her lips, the urge to open herself and explore him fully.

Her arms locked around his neck as he pulled their bodies together, his hands running over her branched wings and down to her bare buttocks. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her heart thundering as his mouth took and took again. It was an endless kiss that stirred fires to life inside her, stoking a furnace deep in her belly.

He squeezed her, caressed her, toyed with her, while barely giving her chance to catch her breath between kisses. His tongue learned her, tenderly then urgently, the stiff length between his thighs clashing against her mound, making her want to leap on him and impale herself, to move and ride him, to fill her emptiness with that hardness.

She hungered, panted, struggled to get closer—and when he began to rub himself against the perfect spot, she held her breath, feeling the moisture between her legs, knowing she was so damn near erupting her ears were throbbing with it.

His clothing disappeared and suddenly she was hot, on fire as their naked skin clashed once more. This time she felt the silky steel of his erection, just at the perfect height for her to—

She lifted herself onto tiptoe, raising one leg, opening the way for him to take her higher, offering him what they both wanted so much. She cried out when the head of his cock began to nudge its way past swollen folds, easily sliding into her on tears of her own hot honey.

Her pulse thundered, her eyes closed and she held her breath, waiting—waiting—

“Shit.”

The exclamation jerked her out of her sexual daze and she realized a car alarm was going off somewhere. In an instant, he was gone, along with the forest, her wings and the chance to explode with passion.

She was in her own bed, thighs wide apart and her sheets kicked away. No forest, no moon, no Cheney, no more screaming alarm—which somebody must have turned off—nothing but for the sound of her panting breaths.

“
Fuck
.” She groaned and reached downward, unable to prevent herself from finishing what the dream had begun. Two gentle strokes and she came, shuddering through the orgasm, letting her body release its pent-up energies in a massive climax that left her limp, her back aching where her wings had begun to take shape. She moved, turning onto her side and letting the world slide back into place.

And then her temper awoke as her thoughts connected to the only person she knew who could be responsible for her bedraggled state of mind.

It was a little past midnight, but even so she didn’t stop to think. Without hesitation, she reached for her phone and found Cheney’s number, punching the buttons with an anger born of equal parts frustration, embarrassment and a sneaking sense of unfinished business. None of which she liked.

“Yeah.” The sleepy voice answered on the first ring.

“Stay the
fuck
out of my dreams, you jerk.” She snapped off the connection and lay back down.
That’ll teach him to mess with my head
.

Across town, Cheney Fisher stared at his cell phone. He’d been sound asleep in the middle of one hellaciously fine dream featuring Pandora and hot sex. It had been most enjoyable, and he was having a hard time pulling his head out of it, not to mention a squirm or two caused by the hardness tenting his sweatpants.

That’ll teach me to fall asleep on the couch. I should’ve put the kids into their baskets an hour earlier.

The phone rang again. He hit the answer button immediately. “For your information, I’m not in your goddamned dreams.”

“Good to know, buddy.” It was Buck. “I really don’t want you there. Did I wake you?”

“Yes. No. She did.”

“Want to take a minute or two there, pal?”

“Oh fuck it.” Cheney rolled his eyes. “What’s up?”

“Got us an appointment with a private lab. Eight a.m. tomorrow. Pick me up. Bring your bag of junk.”

“Cool.” Cheney struggled to absorb the information.

“You can make it, yes? Your lady friend can come too. The one whose head you’re messing with, apparently.”

“I’m not—” He realized the futility of trying to explain things when he was half asleep. “Never mind. I’ll tell you in the morning. Roz’ll be in at seven so I’m good to go. Thanks, Buck. And kiss Lian for me. I figure it was her who set this up.”

“That’s one thing I
can
do. See ya.”

The phone went dead once more, leaving Cheney almost awake and dragging his brain cells into some kind of order.

After a moment, he dialed her number.

“What?”

“For the record, Counselor, I did not mess with your head, nor am I in it. I will confess to an erotic dream in which you played a large role. Now if you had that same dream, we’re gonna have to talk about it.”

“I—”

“Be quiet and listen for once.” Cheney’s frustration flared. “We have an appointment with a private forensics lab in the morning. Buck and I will pick you up at around a quarter to eight or so.”

“But it’s Saturday. I usually—”

“Fine. Don’t come.”

“Wait. Okay. I’ll be ready.”

“Good.”

This time
he
ended the call, snapping the phone shut with every bit as much pleasure as she’d probably felt when she’d hung up on him.

Vaguely troubled, he wandered into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. His erection had subsided at the sound of Buck’s voice, and the lingering pain of need had become a dull ache.

He needed to consider the implications of what had just happened. It had gone beyond a mere erotic dream featuring a lovely woman to whom Cheney was seriously attracted. From what she’d said, Pandora had experienced a similar dream.

He leaned on the sink and closed his eyes, recapturing the image of her, nude and glowing in moonlight, softly waving branches emerging from her spine, the smoothly unusual feel of her body, the tautness of her tightly ruched nipples as they abraded his chest…

He stopped before his cock remembered what it was desperately seeking in those last few dream moments. He didn’t need to go jerk off like some kid simply because he’d had one of
those
dreams. He was a grown man. And in control of himself.

Most of the time.

The unwelcome thought that there was some kind of link between him and Pandora crashed into his head and sobered him quicker than a cold shower. She’d said she was a Fae and she’d certainly manifested something like wings, albeit branched and leafy ones.

He was what he called an illusionist. Nothing remotely Fae about his AG talent.

So why were they sharing dreams? If that’s what they’d done?

Maybe it was just coincidence. Cheney snapped off the bathroom light and, after checking briefly on Rusty and Lucy, went to where he should’ve been in the first place, his bed. But even the familiar comfort of his own linens didn’t quell the thoughts that ran rampant across his mind.

What lab had Buck and Lian dealt with that he didn’t know about? Was it the one that’d given Lian something techno-shiny a while ago? Something that had saved her life and given her a chance to destroy a monster?

They’d both been pretty quiet about it, that was a fact. And Cheney hadn’t pried. He hadn’t needed to ask questions…he simply trusted Buck. Would he be able to get some answers tomorrow?

Shit. He’d left the sample in his office drawer. They’d have to swing by the precinct and collect it before they picked up Pandora.

Which circuitous thought process brought him tidily back to the one thing he’d hoped to be able to push away for the rest of the night.

Pandora.

When he’d confessed to himself that she’d gotten under his skin, he’d innocently assumed it was a simple and straightforward case of lust. Man wanting woman. That sort of thing. But this little dream event of tonight? Well, that put a slightly different slant on matters.

It was a sad truth of life that the more science discovered about the AG mutations and the effects on human DNA, the less they knew.

Cheney’d never heard of a Fae manifesting branches, for example. But as he turned the thoughts around in his mind, a few things fell into place. Pandora’s apartment—the glorious wood sculptures and furniture.

If she had some kind of AG affinity for wood, it would explain it. Not an obsession for the stuff, as he’d originally thought, but a genuine need to be surrounded by that which gave her
other
senses pleasure. Much like werewolf shifters liked warm fuzzy blankets on their beds, or elves tended to decorate their homes with a shitload of plants. There was so much to be learned, he realized. So much yet to be understood by not just professionals, but by the very people whose lives had altered to include the myths and legends that were now reality.

He knew that Buck and Lian shared a link of some kind. He guessed it might be sexual, a meeting of minds that occurred when the planets were in perfect alignment and cock found pussy at the same instant.

Or something like that. He hadn’t given it much thought other than enjoying watching his partner find happiness. He’d stupidly assumed it wouldn’t happen to him, and that he was immune from taking that risky gamble.

Frowning, Cheney punched his pillow and closed his eyes. This whole deal was probably some kind of cosmic retribution for daring to taunt fate. And wouldn’t Buck laugh his ass off about that?

Across the street from Cheney’s home, shaded from the streetlights by the bough of a tree, a woman sat in her car, her head turned toward the neat house tucked behind a pretty garden. She’d watched it, sat there sensing the currents surrounding it, for almost half an hour. The fact that she’d taken a detour on her way back from a late shift didn’t register at this moment.

Because she wasn’t, to use the vernacular, in her right mind.

Somebody else was.

And that somebody else was angry, hotly furious that the subject of her surveillance was distracted, focusing on somebody in a sexual way. Making plans, thinking around problems—the entire area seethed with a mixture of erotic and quantitative elements, thought patterns that could barely be glimpsed, but were of an unsettling nature.

Something was afoot. Something she should know about. Something that could prove risky and distracting. Definitely something that could lure Detective Cheney Fisher onto a path she didn’t want.