Dream Unchained (8 page)

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Authors: Kate Douglas

BOOK: Dream Unchained
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He turned and caught Duran staring at him with a bemused expression. “I don't understand. Why do you not acknowledge your feelings for your mate?”
“She's not my fucking mate!”
Duran slowly nodded his head. “If you say so.”
Morgan sucked in a deep breath. Why did it feel wrong to say she wasn't his? What if she was? What if the feelings he had for Rodie were more than just the way a guy felt about a good friend who was also a hot lay? He liked her a lot. He wanted to be with her, liked waking up beside her, but hell, they'd only known each other a couple of days. He couldn't be bound to her. Not in any way. What were these guys thinking?
More importantly, what was he thinking?
A couple of minutes later, he heard footsteps out in front. The sound of the door opening. “Morgan? Are you in here?”
“Hey, Rodie. I'm in the bedroom.” He shot a quick look at Duran. “Not a word, you son of a bitch.”
Grinning, Duran shook his head.
“Bolt said you needed me. Is anything wrong?”
He glanced up. She was standing beside the bed smiling at him, and everything sort of settled into place. What was it about Rodie that made his life feel so balanced?
Morgan chuckled and pulled her into the circle of his arms. “It appears I need some really good, mind-blowing sex if they're going to get into the part of my brain that lets humans disassemble. Unfortunately, what I'm getting from these two jerks isn't good enough. We decided to call in the reinforcements, and that would be you.”
“Me?” She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “You're kidding, right?”
“Nope. Not kidding at all. Think you're up to it?” He glanced up and saw Bolt leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. “And you, Bolt? You up to whatever Rodie throws your way?”
“I think I can handle it.” He winked at Duran. “This poor guy might not be able to.”
“We shall see.” Duran turned those sapphire blue eyes on Morgan. “This time, you direct. What would we need to do to take you beyond your sexual limits? Into . . .” He frowned and glanced at Bolt. “What did you call it?”
“Into the zone. Out of reality and into a place where all your defenses are down, where you feel totally free to open your heart and mind. To be the man you are, not the one your society dictates, or the man you think others want you to be.”
Bolt directed his comment to Morgan, whose first reaction was to laugh them off. But Bolt's somber voice and serious expression made him stop and think. Had he ever felt totally free? He glanced at Rodie and realized that, yes, he had. Ever since she'd come into his life.
So why had he been so afraid to admit how he felt?
Because he was concerned with his image. With what, as Bolt phrased it, society dictated. He'd always played the loner, the tough guy, the one who didn't need anyone else, but why?
Such a simple, uncomplicated answer for what felt like a terribly complicated set of emotions. When you needed people, you made yourself vulnerable. When you trusted people and they didn't come through, you got hurt. But Rodie? Rodie hadn't made any promises, but she was someone he knew he could count on. He'd known her only a few days, but he'd been inside her head—he trusted what he saw.
How he felt. Even more important, he trusted how Rodie felt. And just like that, he knew what he wanted. What he needed to make himself open up to possibilities. He reached for Rodie's hands, and the first thought that entered his mind was this was how a couple stood during a wedding when they made their vows.
It should have scared the crap out of him. Instead, it made him smile when he looked into those beautiful eyes that were so much more than merely brown. He had to clear his throat to get the words out, but his voice sounded just as true as he felt.
“I want to make love to Rodie. Just to her, actually, but it sounds as if you two need to be part of this if you're going to unlock my brain.” Morgan stared at Rodie, at the wild mane of curls tumbling down her back, the full, red lips, and the decidedly naughty twinkle in her eyes. “I want to bury myself balls deep in Rodie. Duran's already made it clear he's an ass man, so I guess he gets me from behind. And Rodie?” He grinned at her. “Rodie takes Bolt any way she wants.”
The actual logistics proved to be a bit more complicated than Morgan had figured, but he decided before too long that laughter with sex when you were planning something that could get you killed wasn't such a bad thing. They ended up with Duran on his back and Morgan facing away, kneeling over him, tightly impaled on the Nyrian's huge cock. Rodie straddled Morgan's hips and after a couple of misses, he planted his dick perfectly between her slick folds, sliding into her hot, slick sheath.
She sighed as she lowered herself fully over him and wrapped her arms around Morgan's waist. Bolt knelt between Duran's legs, behind Rodie. He used the lubricant generously, playing with her, touching and rubbing and teasing until she was close to climax merely from his touch. When she was ready, he carefully entered her from behind, slipping gently into her.
Morgan recognized her groan as one of pleasure not pain. It was such a weird and wonderful feeling, that big cock of Bolt's sliding into Rodie's slick channel, riding along Morgan's shaft with nothing more than the thin barrier between Rodie's two passages separating the two men.
It was absolutely amazing, beyond anything Morgan had ever experienced in his life, and he knew they'd gone so far beyond Rodie's comfort zone that outer space was no longer such a big deal. He also knew she went along with it only because it was exactly what Morgan needed.
It was that point that made him realize a basic truth—Rodie would do anything for him.
Just as he would do anything for her.
It appeared Bolt and Duran weren't so far off base. There was more to this relationship he and Rodie were building than he'd allowed himself to admit.
Now he just had to hope he didn't go and get himself killed.
When the time came, when orgasm overwhelmed Morgan and his mind opened wide to the unbelievable torrent of sensation, Duran slipped through whatever defenses Morgan might have once had. It was such a simple thing to feel the presence of that switch he'd mentioned. Even easier to flip it from one side to another, to suddenly find himself nothing more than molecules of energy, caught up in Duran's blue and gold brilliance, watching Rodie and Bolt as if they weren't moving at all.
Duran spun him around the room, through the wall and out into the brilliant sunlight. They took a quick pass over the plateau, saw the security forces patrolling the fence line where Finn had seen the men with bolt cutters advancing up the side of the mountain.
And then they were back and he was himself again, reforming around Rodie, with Duran beneath him once more, the rhythm hardly broken at all.
But Rodie's eyes flashed with excitement and she clutched his arms. “You disappeared! It was only a couple of seconds, but you were gone. I saw the sparkles and then you just frickin' disappeared!”
He felt like a kid with a new toy. He'd done it. They'd done it together—Bolt and Duran providing the experience, but it had taken Rodie's presence to free him. He thrust deep as Bolt did the same, the two of them filling Rodie's body as thoroughly as Duran filled his. Morgan wrapped his arms around Rodie as she shuddered against him, her body caught in the midst of her climax. He felt Bolt's release deep inside her channel, and Duran's cock jerked inside Morgan.
This time, with their goal accomplished, Morgan set himself free, felt the coil of heat, the pleasure that was so close to pain they were impossible to separate as his orgasm took control, his muscles clenched, and the thick stream of his ejaculate found its way from his balls to freedom deep within Rodie.
Morgan cried out, a curse backed with laughter as the four of them climaxed together, bodies clenching, muscles tightening and then losing all tension, all of them going entirely limp. Morgan lay backward, collapsing against Duran's chest. Rodie fell forward on top of Morgan, and Bolt, still buried deep inside Rodie, ended up lying over all of them.
Laughing. All of them laughing except Duran, who quickly disassembled and reformed across the room where he could actually draw a breath without the weight of three adults pressing him into the bed.
Long minutes later, Bolt raised his head and smiled at Morgan. “You did it. Now, can you remember how?”
“Yeah.” And just like that, he found the switch. Flipped it, and for all intents and purposes, disappeared. Somehow, he reformed beside Duran, laughing at Rodie's startled expression.
Will you show me how?
I will. Later, when we're not trying to save the world. And when I figure out just what the fuck I'm actually doing.
She laughed.
Promise me?
He gazed at her a moment and thought of what Duran and Bolt had forced him to face. It really wasn't that difficult at all to admit how much Rodie meant to him.
I promise,
he said. Well aware he would promise her anything—and always do everything in his power to deliver.
 
Kiera set a glass of ice tea in front of Mac, but he was so caught up in his phone conversation she doubted if he even noticed. She walked across the room and sat with the four of her guys who'd escaped so far, and another Nyrian, Ankar, who had originally come during Lizzie's shift to share energy with Zianne.
It was so weird. She hardly knew any of them, and yet she'd been intimate with all but Ankar, and damn it all, but they all mattered to her.
Ankar, Aza, Jesat, Dake, and Bane were safe. The five of them had their soulstones, they were firmly in control of their human bodies and she wished she could just relax and enjoy the fact they weren't slaves anymore, but until the others were free, none of them could relax. And she still needed to get Teev, Sakel, and Tor off the Gar ship, and Tor was going to be one of the very last. He'd actually be fighting the Gar if it came down to a battle.
“They will be all right, Kiera.”
Bane's big hand covered hers. “I hope so. There's so much that could go wrong.”
“Like the ones climbing up the back of the mountain?”
“Exactly.” She listened in on the phone conversation Mac was having with the sheriff.
“Damn it, Ted, I know he's on his own property, but they're just down the hill from my property line, which is defined by a chain link fence. Every last one of the bastards is carrying tools designed to cut through wire, and you're saying I can't touch them?” Mac glanced toward Dink and rolled his eyes.
She wondered what Dink was thinking, what it would be like to be a famous investigative reporter, sitting on top of a story like theirs and not able to tell a soul what was going on. Dink actually seemed pretty cool about it, though. He'd spent the last few hours talking to the different Nyrians, writing down their stories, taking pictures.
Mac cursed, drawing Kiera's attention again.
“Damn it all, Ted. Yes, but mine is a very small security force. My men are armed, but this isn't a game. I've got millions of dollars' worth of equipment here and we're reaching a critical point in the project. I can't afford any downtime at all. Okay. Thank you. Air patrol would be much appreciated. You know I'm good for any expenses incurred.”
He slammed the phone down and focused on Kiera. “Do your guys know shoes? Can they form shoes?”
Bane squeezed her fingers before she could answer. “Yes, Mac. How do you need us dressed?” He gestured at the rest of the Nyrians. “All of us can help your security people watch the perimeter, but we can do it invisibly from the air a lot more effectively.”
As he spoke, Bane and the others moved over to the big table where Mac and Dink had been sitting most of the morning. Kiera followed them, wondering what would come next, but she was proud of her guys, proud of the way they were so quick to respond.
Mac chuckled and glanced at Dink, who merely shook his head as if he wasn't quite sure what he was hearing. “I imagine you can,” Mac said, “but what I want is a show of force. I've only got four security people here right now, and there are at least a dozen or more men outside the fence, along with our usual contingent of protestors at the front gate. What I want is more bodies. Big, tough-looking bodies, like you guys, only dressed in denim pants, flannel shirts, heavy boots.” He cocked his head and stared at Bane. “Can you do that?”
Bane stood, disassembled, and then reassembled within the scope of a few seconds. He wore snug-fitting denim jeans, a red and black plaid flannel shirt like Mac's, and heavy work boots.
“Amazing.” Mac shook his head as he stood and walked around Bane, checking out the clothing. “Someday, when things slow down to normal, you're going to have to show me how that works.”

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