Monsters Under the Bed (7 page)

I’
VE
read a person cannot dream when unconscious. It’s not like sleep.

But I dream when I’m unconscious. A doctor told me once it might be due to the stress of what happened to Ford because it was around that time I had my first unconscious dream. I had been boxing with a friend from the station, to relieve the stress of what was going on, and I had accidentally run into his fist with my head. Result: five minutes of unconsciousness.

And I had dreamt the entire time. I can recall the images vividly even to this day.

I dreamt of Ford. That was when he’d been shot, on the very day, after I had to leave his bedside at the hospital or go mad. In the knockout dream, Ford beckoned me with his hands, his body obscured by a mist. Then he came into focus when, like a veil lifting, the fog parted, and I saw him with his arms wide open, waiting for me to come to him.

And I did. I ran into his arms and stayed there in his embrace for the duration of the dream. Faintly, I felt his lips touch mine.

When I awoke, I could no longer deny I had feelings for my partner.

And when he awoke, his brush with death gave rise to a whole new person, someone better—good and loving. And he loved me the same way I loved him, as deeply and profoundly.

It was a mad time back in those days, revelations about the two of us every single day.

Today, however, the only revelation I had was that in my dream I heard Ford calling out for me, his voice panicked and thin. I tried to reply, but I had no voice.

Finally, the mist evaporated, and there was my Ford again. He ran to me, crouching down. That’s when I realized I was lying on the ground, only it was made up of clouds. There I was, floating on a cloud, and Ford was there. He took me in his arms, swaying and rocking me gently, like a baby. I felt his love as though it were a tangible touch.

He crooned sweet nothings into my ear, and I felt at peace.

But then pain shot through me. All of a sudden I was blinking hard. Ford wasn’t there.

Luther Lovell was. He was gripping my shoulder hard and shaking me.

“Mr. Garrett? Mr. Garrett! You must wake up.”

Had I been asleep? Guess so.

It was then that my surroundings began to bleed into my awareness.

I sure as hell wasn’t floating on any clouds like an angel.

I was in the side alley, next to Lovell’s business building. I was lying in a puddle of what I prayed was filthy water instead of something more disgusting. Lovell picked me up with his massively strong arms and placed me to lean on a foul-smelling dumpster. I was sitting, and I felt moisture in my pants, but I was pretty sure it was from the condensation from the pool on the asphalt, not my bladder.

“Lovell?” My voice was nothing but a croak.

“Garrett.” Lovell sounded relieved to hear me speak. “Don’t move. You’ve been hit on the head. You could have a concussion. I need to get you to a hospital.”

If I shouldn’t move, why had he moved me? But I didn’t care about the answer. This wasn’t my first ambush and/or knockout. “I’m fine. I don’t need to see a doctor.”

“Oh, this human manliness nonsense just drives me up the wall sometimes,” Lovell huffed under his breath, clearly not expecting me to hear him. “I will send for my driver. He will take you home if—”

“No, thanks.” I started to get up, but my rubbery knees gave out on me, and back down I plopped. “I have a car.”

“How nice for you, Mr. Garrett,” Lovell said sarcastically, obviously quite miffed still. “But it would be completely irresponsible and reprehensible for me to let you leave unchecked by a doctor.”

“I’ve been banged up before, on and off the force. No biggie.” I was downplaying more than a bit, and my head hurt like a son of a bitch.

But then I recalled my vision of Ford while I was unconscious, and the same sense of peace overwhelmed me, dulling the pain and refocusing my senses. Was this more a psychological placebo effect than actual restoration? I had to conclude so, because surely no images of loved ones could spontaneously and magically heal real wounds, right?

Yet the sharp pain behind my eyes was gone, and the throbbing ache at the back of my head had faded into a buzz. I had recovered fast, and was able to get up with ease. I saw Lovell clear as day, too, and his expression was startlingly shocked.

“You have amazing recuperative powers, Mr. Garrett.” His tone suggested it was less something to compliment, and more something to be suspicious of.

“Good genes,” I deflected, thanked him wholeheartedly for his assistance, and made my way toward my car. Since he had helped me and been truly worried for me, I doubted it was his goons that had taken a crack at my poor skull.

“What about contacting the police?” Lovell called out behind me, his voice distressed.

“I am the police,” I shouted back, and then added with a whisper, “Or I used to be one, anyway.”

Back in the car, I texted Ford, asking him where he was and if we could see each other right away. He texted back immediately, telling me he was at the mall, and that of course we could hook up. I started the car and drove off, away from Lovell’s establishment.

At first I was alone with my thoughts in midafternoon traffic. I had been attacked on purpose, and the message still rang between my ears loud and clear.

Stay away from Mo’s death
.

Duh! I got the warning, but there was no chance that was going to happen.

The thing was, no one had known where I was headed because I had told no one. That meant I had been followed from either Mo’s mansion or the police station. I dismissed the idea of Parkinson telling someone; I was confident any and all secrets were safe with him.

Someone knew I was investigating Mo’s death and was willing to resort to violence to get me off the case. But would that elusive someone be willing to resort to extreme measures? That remained to be seen.

To turn my brain off, I turned the radio on.

“… two-seated plane crashed in the Pacific Ocean after a failed attempt to gain entry into the Sky Tree Aetharium. We’ve just been informed that the owners, two teenage boys from Arkansas, were found in an empty field in Hawaii with acute memory loss. The representative of the Aetharium, Senator Cavadell, had this to say: ‘Aetharium air space is sovereign territory of the Elven peoples, and as such is inviolate. Any and all intrusions will be met with superior force. We wish to uphold peace between our two species, naturally, but we will suffer no human invasions on our sacred lands, be they down on the ground or up in the clouds.’ As the senator verified, the two young men were returned with acute memory loss, yet safe and….”

These sorts of clashes between the mundane earth and the mythical realm were pretty commonplace these days, unfortunately. I wasn’t the only one who no longer batted an eye. Most of the mythical beings had fortified dwellings, magicks, high technology, large gatherings, or all of the above. Elves had the advantage of superior technology and cities high up in the sky or deep below the ocean surface, as such inaccessible through conventional means.

“… local news, a building has burned down in the Sunset District. Upon closer examination of the debris, a midsized phoenix nest was discovered, recently vacated. The fire marshal at the scene believes the hatching of the phoenix accounts for the fire and the ferocity with which the structure burned to cinders….”

At this point I tuned out and then turned the radio off. Whatever news was out there to be heard, I’d get the gist of it from Ford. He was an avid listener to everything around him, always keeping an ear to the ground.

Right then I missed him to bits, and I couldn’t wait to get him in my arms. My cock was at half-mast by the time I parked in the mall’s underground parking lot. Killing the engine and ending the vibrations did nothing to dampen my raging libido.

I texted Ford to get a bearing on him, and he replied immediately.

We met at the food court.

Or more to the point, I saw him across the food court, waving at me—just as the alarm bells sounded, a high-pitched noise cutting through the general background chatter.

Pink lights flashed all around, like a dozen strobe lights at a nightclub, and sugary sweet Muzak surrounded us. Then the giggles and delighted screams sounded, and I cursed out loud.

I ran toward a grinning Ford, and I wasn’t the only one running for cover.

The mall speakers rattled. “They’re coming….
Run!
” Before the alerting party got any further, he made a muffled groan, and then he started chortling like a hyena.

By then I had reached Ford.

Unfortunately, the moment I touched his arm, I felt the hit on my back.

I saw rainbow-colored bubbles floating and pink hearts dancing in my field of vision as the blow from a cupid’s bow reached my consciousness, tearing through my bloodstream and making its endorphin-induced way into my heart, groin, and senses.

And then all I saw was Ford, who was holding me upright, smiling. His pupils were as dilated as mine undoubtedly were. Lust coursed through my being, ripping away my defenses and my sense of public decency.

Vaguely, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the little cupids flying past me, laughing, their wings fluttering, their imp-like faces grinning, and their bright eyes full of mischief.

But Ford was my main concern. He was surrounded by a pulsating halo of pure light and dirty desire. I may have imagined it in my drugged-out state, but it could have been real too.

I heard a howl and faintly realized I had made the sound. This wasn’t the first time I had been hit by a cupid’s arrow, unfortunately.

Then I was tearing at Ford’s clothes, my mouth crashing on his, claiming him with feral force. He tasted like chocolate coffee and apple custard, so he must have had a snack before I got there. But the underlying flavor unique to Ford alone made my toes curl, my hands fist, and my cock stand up so erect it could have cut glass or stone.

In my desperation to get Ford naked, I was barely aware of him dragging me toward the closest store and then shoving me into a fitting room. On our way there, I had noted other people engaged in various sensual and sexual acts that turned the familiar mall into a luxurious palace of orgies. Greek-style columns had magically appeared, and springs of clear blue water, copses of lush vegetation, and bedding of all shapes and sizes filled the floor.

The magicks of the Unveiled world couldn’t have mattered less to me the moment the door of the fitting room slammed shut, and the lock clicked in place.

Ford pushed me against the back wall. I felt the sharp pain of a metal hook digging into my back, but I honestly didn’t care. The
need
inside me was too potent to resist.

I turned the tables by grabbing Ford’s neck and back and tossing him around so his back was to the wall, and my front pressed on him, hard. I ground against him, my nails ripping at his clothes once more. He wore his typical stylish button-down shirt, and I heard the pings as the buttons tore off and hit the floor.

Then… glorious skin. My hands and mouth had a field day. I dove into my meal with an insatiable hunger, licking and sucking and nipping and biting to my cock’s content. I wanted him so badly.

Ford shoved my jacket off my shoulders and then yanked my shirt above my head. I could barely give him the time to do that, impatient at my hands staying tangled in the shirt for precious seconds. Finally freed, I wrapped my arms around his waist and suckled on his puckered nipples. Ford groaned, a deep guttural sound of pure lust.

God, I love you, Ford, so damn much
.

“I love you, Sam,” Ford whispered in between pants. His hands raked through my hair to grip hard, to keep my mouth in place.

I may have mumbled something incoherent back, but I couldn’t be sure. My tongue spiraled around that nub of flesh, hot and throbbing against me. I kept pulling him closer, as though I would not feel satisfied until I was sinking into him, becoming a permanent part of him.

“Sam, please, fuck me,” Ford muttered, and I shivered at the plea.

I dropped to my knees, the hard floor uncomfortable in its unyielding quality. I all but shredded his zipper to get his khakis and boxer briefs down his legs. Finally, that hot, hard piece of flesh hit my face, and eagerly I wrapped my lips around his dick and took him deep into my throat in a single swallow. I tasted his precome, bitter and sweet, and licked the delectable flavor off, my mouth awash with it.

“Oh, Sam,
yes
,” Ford moaned, and I felt his thighs trembling under my palms.

After I had made his most sensitive skin wet all over, I began to really blow him with all my might. I bobbed up and down so fast and hard a neck injury was definitely ahead of me in the near future. Yet I couldn’t stop. Not with the fiery-red haze of the cupid’s arrow burning inside of me, demanding me to surrender and give the rush my all.

I dug my fingers into Ford’s hips and buttocks to keep him in place as I sucked his cock. I felt like I was starving, and his meat was right there. I was dying of thirst, and his juices kept death and darkness at bay. I shivered within from a cold I could not define, and his warmth was blazing before me, a source of light and life and heat.

I needed his sex to live.

Then Ford grabbed me fiercely under my arms and pulled me up on my feet. I was sort of aware I was growling and fighting back, but he stopped me—only to shove my jeans down in one swift motion and free my dick. I sighed with relief I had not known I needed.

I didn’t care where Ford got the packet of lube, but next thing I knew there was a cool substance coating my erection as he rubbed it on me. Then he swiveled around and braced himself against the stall wall. I took hold of his hips and watched as my slicked cock slipped between his round, firm ass cheeks and slid past his twitching hole over and over.

“Sam, please.” Ford’s voice was nothing but a choked outcry.

I shook all over, my skin tingling in anticipation.

I inched one finger inside his tight, hot channel to open him up, but he swayed his butt in protest, grunting. “Don’t need any more prep. Do it, Sam. Do it!”