Dream Unchained (27 page)

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Authors: Kate Douglas

BOOK: Dream Unchained
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“It's a planet they remember destroying long before there was life on Earth. If it looks at all familiar to you, that's because this is Mars. It was Mars. It's been a dead planet for as long as we've known about it, but Nyrians live a long, long time, and they remember when this planet was destroyed, when its people were taken on board as food for the Gar, when the atmosphere was stripped, when the minerals were taken. That would have been our fate, so for those of you who thought of welcoming the Gar with open arms, just be glad the Nyrians were brave enough to stop them. Earth wouldn't have had a chance. No one here would be alive now if they hadn't stopped that ship.”
Shaken by the emotions roiling through his head, the sense that what he'd experienced was never really going to go away, Finn walked back to stand beside Liz, while Duran went on to describe the rest of the mission.
Finn didn't want to hear any more. He was so damned tired. Exhausted and heartsick to think that Zianne hadn't made it.
Tara was sitting beside Duran while he talked, and love was written all over her face. Finn had already found them a room upstairs and told them they needed a night alone together, time to get used to their human bodies and maybe even try making love. Just the two of them. He figured they should learn to generate their own energy. They hadn't argued with him.
He leaned over and breathed deeply of Lizzie's sweet scent. “I'm beat,” he said. “I'm going to head back to my cabin and get some sleep.”
She reached up and cupped the side of his face in her hand. His five o'clock shadow was more like a nine o'clock, and he rubbed his coarse whiskers against her palm.
“I'd like to come with you.”
Frowning, he turned and kissed her palm. Stared into her steady gaze for a long time, wondering if that was such a good idea. “But what about your guys? Shouldn't you . . . ?”
Interrupting him, she shook her head. “They're exhausted, too. Xinot is still recovering and I think all the guys are a bit shell-shocked. The two women, Reiah and Seri, got dibs on my bed, and the men are planning to sleep on air mattresses and the couch. I've got their bedding already set up.” She shrugged and a dimple he'd not noticed before popped up on her right cheek. “You see, I really don't have anywhere to sleep.”
Finn slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her close. “Yes, you do.” Quietly, they slipped out of the lodge. Together, the two of them walked through the moonlight to his cabin.
 
Mac crawled beneath the rumpled sheets, and just as he'd hoped, the sweet scent of honey and vanilla filled his senses. At least tonight he'd still have her close. Grabbing the pillow Zianne had used, he shoved it under his head and buried his nose in her soft cotton pillowcase.
Sleep claimed him, but so did dreams—dreams that came so clearly, so quickly, he hadn't been aware of slipping into sleep. Once again he and Zianne were walking through that greener than green meadow with the brilliant blue sky overhead. Holding hands, just walking through tall grass that brushed against his bare feet. This time, Zianne wore a long, flowing skirt and a white peasant blouse that left her beautiful shoulders bare. Neither Mac nor Zianne spoke, but he was almost preternaturally aware of her beside him—her warmth, her sweet scent, her amazing vitality. He took comfort in the softness of her touch. The warmth of their clasped hands.
She'd been so cold when he last held her. So cold and still, and then she'd been gone. There was a tree ahead and he led her there, sat in the shade, and pulled her down so that she tumbled into his lap. Her long arms wrapped around his shoulders and she leaned her head against his chest. He felt her warm breath against his throat, heard the soft, steady drum of her heart, and felt more at peace than he could recall.
If this was all he could have of Zianne, it would have to be enough. He'd make it work for him, even though he wanted her so badly he ached. She raised her head, he lowered his, and their lips met. So soft, so absolutely perfect.
He ended the kiss, brushing his lips across hers. Inhaling her scent. “What could I have done differently, Zianne? Is there any way I could have held on to you?”
He felt her sigh and hugged her even tighter. “I've dreamed of holding you like this for so many years. Imagined how it would feel to have you in my life for all of my life, and it was always so perfect. I imagined Dink coming to visit and the three of us together. Other times I dreamed of you and me—just the two of us—alone up here at the site, once all your people were safe.”
“I need you, Mac. I need you to want me, to hold me, to make love to me.” He felt each word, whispered against his throat. The movement of her lips, the soft puffs of air. Felt loss the moment when she pulled away from him, but it was only to tug the blouse over her head, to slide the skirt past her hips. She spread her full skirt out on the thick grass and it was more than enough to make a bed for the two of them.
With almost frantic haste, he kicked off his clothing and, naked, kneeling beside her, ran his fingers along the curve of her breast, then cupped the soft weight and reveled in that satiny skin resting in his palm. Leaning close, he took the taut peak of her nipple between his lips and sucked until she moaned, arching her body against him. She was satin and silk and strong, lean muscles. Soft breasts and the sharp jut of hipbones, the curve of a perfect thigh and the long, slender stretch of her legs.
Every part of her he'd committed to memory, every part he loved. She lay back in the folds of her colorful skirt and Mac knelt between her thighs. Lifting them, he hooked her legs over his arms and held her up to his mouth, drawing in a deep breath perfumed with her sweet scent. Then he dipped forward to taste her amazing flavors.
He could feast on her for hours. In fact, he'd done it more than once years past, so lost in her addictive taste, in her moans and cries with each release, he'd felt no need to do anything more than give her pleasure.
Pleasuring Zianne pleased him, but that's what love was all about, wasn't it? Pleasing the one you love. Giving them all of you, everything you have, making that one person smile for the same reason you smile—because you're together. Because you love.
“Now, Mac.” Her breathless cry made him smile against her sweet, feminine folds. “I need you inside me now.” So demanding.
He gave her one last lick and she whimpered, so he leaned close and kissed her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers, connecting on so many levels. When he finally pressed close with his thick, hard cock, when he pushed through her folds and slipped inside, she was wet and ready, so swollen with arousal, with need and desire that her body trembled. He seated himself deep inside, and it was as if he'd finally come home. Finally found the perfect place where all was as it should be.
They rocked together, not in wild passion but in a slow, sensual loving, bodies and hearts connected, and the reality of death and loss forgotten for now. All that mattered was this moment, this place, this miraculous dream. If that was all he could have, Mac would take it. If Zianne could return and hold him close, only in his dreams, he would have to be content.
He felt her tense, sensed the tiny ripples in her vaginal sheath, but he didn't speed up, didn't press harder or deeper. No, this time he merely loved her. Slow and steady as if they had all the time in the world, the two of them finally reached their climax together, a sweet, almost tender connection.
Mac felt no grief. No sense of loss, not even the anger he'd experienced earlier when he realized she was gone. She wasn't entirely gone. Not really. Not if he could have her like this, could connect on this level. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough, but if this was all he could have, he'd damned well take it and be happy.
He stayed buried deep inside, holding his weight up on his elbows, his body tightly lodged between her legs. He was still hard, still wanting more, but she'd drifted off. Her eyes were closed and there were dark circles beneath them.
He kissed first one closed lid and then the other. Could the specters of dreams actually grow tired? She looked exhausted, as if this dying had been as hard on her as it had been on Mac. Such a strange concept. An exhausted figment of his imagination. He pulled her into his arms and rolled over so that Zianne sprawled across him. And lying there in the tangled fabric of her cotton skirt, Mac drifted off to sleep in that strange dream world, with the blue sky overhead and Zianne sleeping soundly, her long, lithe form sprawled warm and trusting across his chest.
14
D
ink rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. It was late, but at least it appeared everyone was settled. He'd found a room for Carl and Nick in the workers' barracks. All the other rooms were taken up with Nyrians, most of them sleeping two or three to a bed. No one wanted to be alone tonight.
Including me.
And yet, he was the only one left in the dining hall. Deputy Alvisa had taken his men and gone almost an hour ago, and the DEO-MAP site was finally quiet. They'd have to go over the place in the morning to check for damage, but a canine patrol had done a sweep of the entire area around midnight, looking for bodies. They'd found a couple of injured, but no one appeared to have died.
Surprising, considering all the gunshots and heavy explosives, but he knew Mac would be pleased. Dink was, too. He'd seen enough bloodshed over the years, from Bosnia to Iraq and Afghanistan, not to mention the semipermanent wars in so many parts of the African continent. So many pointless deaths. He was glad they'd not added more to the number tonight.
One had been more than enough.
The last ones to leave the lodge had been Kiera and her Nyrian, Tor. She'd been teasing him about sharing her bed with a couple of other guys, but Tor didn't seem to mind the idea a bit. Dink couldn't remember their names. Too many names to keep track of. Not too many people, though. Not enough.
He thought of Zianne, but only for a moment to indulge his grief before pushing her memory aside. Later, when he felt as if he could actually deal with her loss.
He worried about Mac.
Of course, he'd always worried about Mac, ever since they were little kids. He figured that worry was wired into him, until now it was part of his DNA. At least he was used to it.
After turning out lights, Dink headed up the stairs. He hoped Mac didn't mind sharing, but his was the only bed available.
He paused in front of the door to Mac's room. Images of how he'd spent last night in this same room, the same bed, threatened to choke him. Whether he wanted it or not, he had the feeling it was going to be a long time before he could think of Zianne without weeping.
The door was unlocked, and he stepped into the dark room. Moonlight cut a pale swath across the bed. Mac lay in the middle of it, arms and legs sprawled, his face buried in the pillow.
He was such a beautiful man. Dink loved him so much it hurt, but then he'd always loved Mac. He knew Mac loved him back, in his own way. It would have to be enough. Hadn't it always been?
Quietly, he stripped off his clothes and left them where they fell before ducking into the bathroom for a quick shower. Mac's clothing lay in a pile on the floor in front of the toilet.
What a couple of slobs they were! Zianne had teased them unmercifully about their “bad man habits.” And they, in turn, would remind her that she seemed to like her men bad. Still, it appeared her complaints were well deserved.
Standing beneath the spray, he thought of the conversation he'd had earlier with the president. Mac was going to love it, but what an experience. Dink had met the president before at news conferences where he'd been but one reporter in the crowd, but a personal phone call to check on their “new citizens,” as the commander in chief referred to the Nyrians, had been amazing.
Rodie's little camera had accomplished what all the words in the world couldn't—those images of gutted aliens hanging in what was essentially an interstellar meat locker had flashed around the world. Combined with NASA's film of the massive Gar star cruiser exploding just beyond Earth's atmosphere, of the burning chunks of the thing hurtling toward the ground, and the story of the Nyrians' decision to sacrifice themselves rather than be responsible for harming anyone or anything on this world had convinced the people of Earth that Nyrians were the good guys.
From what he'd seen and the Nyrians he'd met, they were a hell of a lot better than some of the folks who'd been born here.
Yawning, Dink turned off the tap and dried himself. Then he crawled into bed beside Mac. He had to shove him a bit to clear up enough space, but Mac merely grunted and rolled aside. Dink lay beside him, staring at the ceiling.
What was going to happen now? Mac's entire focus for the past twenty years had been all about saving the Nyrians and rescuing Zianne. Having Zianne forever. Dink rolled over on his side and studied his old friend. His lover.
He'd dreamed of Mac as his lover for so long it didn't feel real even now. Mac must have felt his steady gaze, because he slowly blinked and then opened his eyes. Turned his head and frowned briefly, before a slow smile spread across his face.
“She was here, Dink. Here, with me.”
“Zianne? But how?”
Mac shook his head. “I don't know. It was a dream, but too real to have been nothing but fantasy. We talked, we made love, we walked in a world that she said she'd imagined, one that was a copy of Nyria. If that's all I can have of her . . .” He sighed. “It's not really enough, but it's better than nothing.”
“Do you think she's real? Is she alive, but maybe in a different reality? On a different plane?” Hell, he was willing to believe anything after the last couple of days.
Mac chuckled. “I don't know. She said something about my faith giving her life, but when I woke up, she was gone. Maybe that's just wishful thinking, but I'll find out more if she comes back.” He pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard.
Dink was in the process of sitting up beside him when Mac asked, “Did anything happen after I left?”
“Oh, shit.” Laughter was not what he was expecting, but once he started, Dink couldn't seem to stop. “Mac, you have no idea!”
“What? C'mon, Dink. Pull it together. What the fuck happened?”
“Let's see. The sheriff showed up with a shitload of deputies, a helicopter, and a canine unit. All of Roberts's men have been arrested and hauled off to jail. A couple of injured will be locked up once they're patched up. We did a live feed of the whole operation here at the site with the helicopter and the canine units, and then a full-scale show-and-tell with Cam's drawings and paintings. Duran, Tor, and Finn did the color commentary, and they were great. Rodie's film of gutted aliens aboard the Gar ship has gone viral, and people all over the world are hailing the Nyrians as heroes. Oh, and the president called and said they're all considered U.S. citizens, since they chose to come here first.”
He shrugged and grinned. “But other than that, nope. Nothing happened.” He burst out laughing. “Shut your mouth, Mac. You'll catch a fly.”
“Holy fucking shit.” Mac flopped back against the headboard. “That's better than anything we could have hoped for. How are the Nyrians? I can't believe I missed all of that.”
“They're all good. All of them. Even Nattoch, though Niah said he's still weak and will take a while to recover. And don't worry—everything's backed up and you can get all the coverage later. Ya know, Mac, the thing I keep thinking is that Zianne would love the way this is all working out.”
“She will love it, Dink. I'll tell her as soon as I see her.” Then Mac leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth.
Dink had figured he was too damned tired to even think of sex, but it appeared he'd been wrong. Arousal surged through him with the force and heat of lightning. His dick stretched and lengthened, going from tired and flaccid to so hard he ached. Mac kept kissing him, sliding his hand down Dink's belly, finding his dick and squeezing it.
Dink moaned, arching his back, pressing himself into Mac's hand, and then they were slipping over and around each other, turning almost desperately so that Mac could take Dink in his mouth and Dink could return the favor. Before he was able to position Mac, Mac had one hand on his balls, the other around the base of his cock, and that hot, wet mouth of his was taking Dink down deep.
Groaning, he locked up all his muscles just to keep from coming at the first strong suction, the first hot lick of Mac's tongue. After a moment, he finally felt as if he had some control, enough to nuzzle Mac's groin, to take a deep breath and inhale what should have been that familiar male musk that was all Mac.
Except that wasn't what he smelled at all. His senses were shocked with the rich scent of honey and vanilla. He dipped his head and took Mac's thick cock in his mouth, but the flavor was all Zianne, not Mac. Zianne, as if her sweet honey still coated Mac's erection, as if he'd recently made love to her.
Really made love to her. The thought slammed into Dink, turned him on even more. He used his tongue and teeth, his lips and his fingers to take Mac to the brink and hold him there.
The same thing Mac was doing to him. They each sucked and nuzzled, licked and nipped until Dink slid one long finger behind Mac's balls, found the tight pucker of his anus, and pressed. Pressed again, reveling in Mac's soft moan vibrating his cock before pressing hard enough to gain entrance, to find that small sphere that was much too responsive to Dink's touch.
Mac thrust his hips forward and Dink took all of him. Sucked him deep, took his seed and swallowed it down, licking and sucking until Mac's penis finally softened between his lips, until his erection was merely a sweet memory and the taste of Zianne no longer lingered on Dink's tongue.
Only then did he let himself go. He groaned against a surge of pleasure so sharp it hurt. Almost whimpered as Mac squeezed his sac just the way he liked, and cried out when Mac swallowed Dink entirely, taking his cock down his throat where the strong muscles of mouth and throat compressed and released and threw him almost painfully into orgasm.
It seemed to go on forever, that rhythmic pulse and release of climax. Mac licked and sucked, taking everything, every drop, nuzzling and laving the full length with his tongue, running his lips along the softening length of Dink's shaft.
Long minutes later, the two of them lay side by side, bodies replete, thoughts held close. Finally Dink rolled to his side so he could look directly into Mac's eyes. “I tasted Zianne on you. You really did make love with her tonight. It wasn't a dream. Your cock was covered in honey and vanilla.” He laughed, and it was a harsh sound in such a quiet, dark room. “You've never tasted that good before, by the way.”
Mac swallowed, and the sound almost echoed in the dark. “Can you explain it any other way?”
Dink shook his head. “No. And I don't really know that I want to.”
“Me, either, Dink.” His voice broke. “Me, either.” He leaned close and kissed Dink. Then he rolled away and buried his face in his pillow. He didn't make a sound, but his shoulders trembled and his misery was a third presence in the bed.
Unwilling to intrude on Mac's private grief, Dink lay there for a long time before sleep finally claimed him.
 
Finn lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was late, he was exhausted, but he'd not been able to sleep. He'd blame his arousal, but it wasn't merely that. It wasn't even the fact that Lizzie slept so peacefully beside him, her slightly parted lips a hairsbreadth from his left nipple.
She wore one of his T-shirts and nothing else, and he hadn't laid a finger on her. That alone worried him. He'd been wondering if he was falling in love with Ms. Elizabeth Anne Connor. The fact they'd spent hours talking without sex, and then she'd just curled up against him like a trusting kitten and fallen asleep, almost had him convinced that was his problem.
He'd never been in love before. The closest he'd come had been Tara and Duran, but the two of them needed time alone together, time to explore their love from the standpoint of their new, human bodies. He hoped they'd made love tonight. Hoped that natural human instincts had come with their corporeal forms.
He figured he'd find out in the morning, but that was another thing about him that had changed. He was never unselfish, and yet he'd sent Duran off with Tara when he could have gone with them, and he'd brought Lizzie back to his cabin because she'd asked him to. Not for sex so much as to get to know each other.
And he'd had a wonderful night with her. Talking, teasing, and telling her about going aboard the Gar ship, promising to teach her how to disassemble when she was ready. Not once had he tried to convince her that sex with him was part of the deal. Yes, he'd been aroused. He was still hard as a post. He doubted any man alive could spend time with Lizzie and not want to make love with her, but holding back, holding her . . . now that had been special.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the damned visual of all those bodies kept coming back. Would he ever be free of that? The mission aboard the Gar ship had changed him. Accepting that he might die, seeing the fragility of life, realizing what the Nyrians had lived with for eons—he would never be the same.
He didn't want to be the same. He wanted to be better. Worthy of love from a woman like Lizzie. He'd never in his life worried about being worthy. He'd spent his life taking so much for granted—his intelligence, his decent looks, the way women flocked to him. He'd never questioned why they didn't stay. He'd always thought it was his choice, but that wasn't it at all.

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