Luke's Dream (7 page)

“She’s a little more than a child,” I said
under my breath, in an effort to bring the situation in
perspective. The words didn’t help as she wiggled against me to
position the strap.

“Aren’t you done yet?”

“Don’t bark at me. This is your idea.”

She finally stopped moving, which I took as a
sign she’d finished, and I quickly got us back on the road. I
hadn’t even managed to gain the speed limit when I felt her go
slack. The strap seemed to keep her in place, though, so I kept to
the road.

Everything was going fine until she began to
twitch. First, just her fingers moved a bit. Then her head started
to jerk slightly. When her right leg kicked out, she unbalanced the
bike and herself to the left. I leaned right to counter balance and
used my right hand to try to right her as the bike started to slow.
Instead of connecting with her arm, or preferably her shoulder, my
palm cupped her breast.

“Bloody hell.”

My brain short circuited at the feel of her
soft curve, and instead of squeezing the brake lever, normally an
action completed with my right hand, I squeezed her. Panicking, I
jerked the handle bar and almost drove us into the opposite ditch.
Some sense of preservation had me using the rear brake with my
foot—as I should have done in the first place.

A car honked and swerved around us. I
realized two things: I’d stopped the bike on the yellow lines; and
I still held Bethi’s breast.

Whipping my hand away, I swore again. She
moved loosely behind me but didn’t wake. How could she still be
sleeping? Not that I wasn’t thankful for it.

I rubbed the sweat from my forehead then
moved the bike to the shoulder until my shaking stopped. It took a
few minutes because I could still feel the ghost of that soft mound
in my hand. Rubbing my palm on my pants didn’t help remove the
sensation. Chanting her age in my head did. Eventually.

Once we got back on the road, she continued
to twitch. I didn’t try to straighten her, trusting the strap to
keep her in place. However, each twitch rubbed her against me,
driving me mad.

When I saw a motel ahead, I didn’t hesitate
to pull in to the small parking lot.

Bethi’s head jerked upright. “What are you
doing?”

Now she woke up?

“You keep twitching. You can’t ride sleeping.
It’s not safe.”

“Safety isn’t relevant,” she said.

I parked the bike and started to loosen the
strap as she continued to argue.

“Sleeping strapped to you is better than
sleeping here. We need to keep moving.”

“Believe me, I’m all for hurrying, but I’m
not going to risk you falling off.” I lifted the strap over my
head, freeing her from my back. She hurried to dismount.

“I’m not tired anymore.”

Her pulse and scent gave away the lie.

“I don’t want to stay here,” she said, her
scent changing to panic.

“Too bad. Inside. Now,” I said, pointing
toward the door marked “Office.”

Her pleading gaze wouldn’t sway me. She
needed sleep, and I need a few hours to try to forget what had
happened on the road.

She huffed, turned, and made as if she would
start walking down the road. She made it one step before I used my
speed to block her. We scowled at each other. Then she yawned
hugely and shook her head in an effort to stay awake.

“You are so tired, luv. Please. Sleep a few
hours,” I said.

Her gaze narrowed. “As if sleep is what you
really have in mind.”

My pulse leapt in panic. Did she know I’d
touched her? I quickly held up my guilty hands, praying she didn’t
know.

“Sleep. That is all. I can’t drive fast with
you sleeping. Too many things could happen. I might not be able to
catch you in time. If we keep going as we are, snow will cover the
roads before we reach the Compound.”

“Compound?”

“It’s where Gabby said to bring you. She
promised she would be there.”

She gave me an odd look. “No one is holding
her there?”

“Holding her there? No. She...visits.
Honestly, she doesn’t seem to like it very much.”

Probably because it was just a bunch of
overcrowded shoddy buildings. The only reason there were so many of
us was because the women had gotten crazy ideas about four walls
providing more safety than their own men. I wasn’t opposed to
walls. I was opposed to the number of people who were all trying to
fit in them.

Bethi studied the blacktop a moment before
aiming her cynical gaze at me once more.

“I don’t trust you. But...” She looked at the
motel. I could see longing in her expression as much as distaste.
“Fine. I’ll stay. Just not with you in the same room.”

“Agreed.”

I needed the time away from her as much as
she needed the sleep. Turning, I started for the office and grinned
at the sound of her following me. As soon as she slept, I planned
to do the same on the bench outside her door. I slept lightly
enough that I would hear her if she tried to leave without me.

The man behind the desk eyed Bethi as I
signed and paid for a room. I didn’t care for the judgmental look
in his eyes when he handed over the key either.

I held the door for her when we left and led
the way to the second room.

“I got kicked out of one hotel already. He’s
going to hear me for sure,” Bethi said as she eyed the distance to
the office.

“Maybe you won’t have bad dreams,” I said as
I unlocked the door. Stepping aside so she could enter, I ignored
her snort of disagreement.

She walked into the room then turned and held
out her hand expectantly. Did she honestly think I’d hand over the
key after she just told me she would likely have bad dreams? I’d
broken into several rooms already because of her. I wasn’t going to
do it again. Especially when the door was in sight of the office
and the suspicious clerk.

“I’ll sit on the bench outside and wake you
in a few hours.” I started to close the door.

“The key?” she said impatiently.

“I’ll hold onto it. Better I wake you when
you start getting too loud than the owner.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but I closed
the door on her words. Outside, I cocked my head to listen to the
sound of her steps retreat from the door. A moment later, the bed
spring creaked.

Exhaling in relief, I moved away from the
door and went to the bench. Before I could lay down, my stomach
growled. The scent of cooking meat drifting faintly in the air. The
town we were in wasn’t large but was sizeable enough to have at
least one restaurant to torment me. I hesitated on the bench,
trying to decide which I needed more. Food or sleep.

As compelling as it was to find something to
eat at the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to leave Bethi. Even if
she weren’t sleeping, she was defenseless against my kind. I also
wanted to be close in the event her dreams turned sour, like she
thought they would.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. However,
hunger made a compelling argument over my need for sleep. I
absently rubbed my stomach and gazed down the road. A sign that
promised food beckoned me, but I shook my head. It was no use
pretending food would win. Whether it was the pull or her
fragility, Bethi owned me. I couldn’t walk away from her. If that
meant suffering without food and sleep, so be it.

A soft cry reached me. I was up and moving to
the door without thinking about it. Without pausing, I let myself
in. She lay on the bed, on top the covers, twitching just like she
had while on the bike. Although I couldn’t see her face, I could
smell her fear. Her dreams once again weren’t pleasant.

“Bethi,” I said, hesitantly touching her leg.
I hated to wake her but wasn’t sure what else to do. Not true. I
knew what I could try. She’d slept peacefully in my arms twice now.
My hand trembled. I just wasn’t sure I was ready for another
go.

She cried out again, deciding me. Kicking off
my shoes, I moved around the bed and carefully eased her over so
she was positioned head to foot instead of side to side. Once she
was comfortably situated, I settled on the covers, laying on my
side.

In her sleep, her face looked no less relaxed
or rested. Her eyes moved frantically behind her closed lids, and
her turned down mouth seemed more sad than angry.

She rolled onto her back and continued to
whimper in her sleep. I knew what she needed, but hesitated to pull
her closer. Each time we touched, each moment together made keeping
my distance harder. Eventually, I wouldn’t be able to let go.

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye, and
I knew I was delaying the inevitable. She needed me. And I’d give
her whatever she needed when she needed it. Wrapping an arm around
her waist, I pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

“No more bad dreams, luv. Only the good ones
in my arms.”

She rolled again so her back was pressed
against my chest. A shiver ran through me at the contact. We fit
perfectly. Curling around her protectively, I relaxed and let
myself enjoy the moment. My Mate was in my arms. It wasn’t more
than holding and wouldn’t be more than holding for a very long
time, but it was perfect.

We stayed like that for a while. When her
breathing no longer hitched with unshed tears, I tiredly got up and
hid her shoes. I wanted sleep, and she liked trying to run away
from me. I didn’t want to make that an easy option if she woke
before me.

Taking her in my arms once more, I closed my
eyes.

* * * *

A change in her breathing brought me
instantly awake. It wasn’t like I’d been heavily sleeping anyway.
After the first six hours, I’d woken to use the loo. By the time
I’d returned to bed, she’d already started to become restless. So I
had lain awake for the next two hours just holding her and
breathing in her scent before dozing again.

I glanced at the bedside clock. Almost ten
hours had passed. My stomach had long since stopped growling
complaints. Now, it chewed on my backbone.

Easing my arms from around her, I created
some space between us, which I filled in with a line of pillows.
After making our sleeping arrangement appear suitably respectable,
I settled onto my back and watched her.

It didn’t take her long to wake the rest of
the way. She yawned and stretched loudly. When her hand accidently
landed on my face, she froze. Complete shock registered on her
features, and I grinned. Shock was a cute look on her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she
demanded as she sat up.

“You were having a bad dream. I came in to
wake you, but you quieted. So I decided to use my time wisely and
sleep, too.”

She narrowed her gaze, not believing my tale.
I quickly gestured to the line of pillows separating us.

“I kept it proper. See?”

She took a large breath, obviously winding up
for a long scolding.

“I don’t care if you put a—”

“I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

I rose from the bed, grabbed my jacket with
her hidden shoes, and moved toward the door.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying
to do. I won’t let my guard down. A few moments of kindness will
not make me fall into your arms.”

She was right. Kindness hadn’t made her fall
into my arms. Sleep had. And, it would very likely do so again
because she still had dark circles under her eyes. She needed more
sleep…and food. But was unlikely to cooperate with either in her
current mood.

I stopped at the door and turned to look at
her to tell her what she wanted to hear.

“I don’t want you in my arms.”

“Liar.” She swung her legs off the bed and
stood. Marching to her bag, she yanked it off the chair.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry.” If
she said she was hungry, though, I would completely understand.

She whirled on me, fury in her gaze.

“What’s to understand? I’m not safe. I’ll
never be safe again. I’m so tired, I have no idea how to help
myself, and I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Any trace of humor a decent night’s sleep had
left me vanished. Whatever she had seen or learned of us had
frightened her, and that angered me. I so badly wanted to help
chase away her fears and see her smile.

I took a step toward her, lifting my hand to
pull her to me, but she flinched. It hurt, but mostly the hurt was
for her. Letting my hand fall back to my side, I sighed.

“We can stay here longer so you can rest,” I
said.

She dropped the bag and threw her hands up in
the air in frustration.

“It won’t do any good. I’m reliving all our
past lives, mine and my sisters. I’ve been cut, beaten, starved,
raped, drowned, and even blinded,” she said, stressing each
horrific description of torture with an angry clip.

I didn’t quite understand what she meant—she
obviously wasn’t blind—but the idea that someone wanted to do any
of those things to her had my limbs shaking with the need to shift
and protect her.

“Every time I close my eyes,” she said
continuing, “I see more, and there’s no rest when that’s what I
see. When I wake, I’m just as tired as I was when I went to sleep.
And I don’t just see the past, I feel it. Every injury. Every
forced intimate moment. If I let myself dwell on it, I won’t ever
feel whole again.” She made a pained sound. “I’m not really sure I
do now. If I’ve ever had a happy past life, I don’t remember it.
Instead, I remember the pain, and death. Always death...”

Her voice hitched and tears started falling
freely. She continued to hold my gaze.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered,
breaking me with her unspoken plea for help. “But if you’re here to
try to get me to choose you, you can’t have me. Even if it means I
have to die again.”

I growled, feeling angry yet completely
helpless to do anything about my anger. She thought she was
dreaming past lives where werewolves did unspeakable things to her.
I didn’t want to call her a liar—I knew better than to try to tell
a woman her beliefs were wrong—yet I had a hard time believing
someone could possibly live more than one life.