The Dream Crafter (28 page)

T
hey were curled
up on the couch, her head on his shirtless chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart underneath her ear.
Th-thump, th-thump
, rhythmic and patient, accepting and encouraging as he waited to follow where she led.

Amana stroked over his chest, the rough silk of his skin another meditation to think on, another mystery to puzzle, the juxtaposition of rough and warmth and comfort. “You have a good heart.”

His chest stuttered in banked amusement under her. “I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I have my doubts about it.”

“Don’t doubt it. I’ve known men with evil hearts. You’re nothing like them.”
Th-thump, th-thump
, as if in agreement.

Now his hand glided through her hair, pulling the long strands with easy strokes. “You’ve always been so scared to use your power. Are you sure you should be using it now? I don’t want you to do this if it’s going to hurt you.”

“Do we have any other choice? The answer to that is no, by the way,” she cut in before he could give his answer about going to meet Reign himself. That was not ever going to happen. “Even if it wasn’t for you, I no longer have the option of ignoring what I am.” What she didn’t give voice to was the truth of the other, of the fear that the more she used of her power, the less she herself existed.

His fingers were calming as they stroked her scalp. “Where will we go, after we save your brother?”

He sounded so sure, and though the words were a false assurance, she clung to them, let herself open to the possibilities of an
after
. “That depends. Are you going to be with us?”

“After this adventure with the Spellbook, and pissing off the Guild? It’s going to be hard for me to find anywhere that will take me for long, so I might as well stay with you.”

His voice had a pleasant lightness to it, the tease evident without going into mocking or melancholy. “I’m pleased you’re so excited over the prospect.”

“Everyone who knows me will tell you how excitable I am. What about you? Are you excited about being stuck with me?”

Here his voice lost the lightness, and his hand lay heavy on her head. The cooler air clung to her skin as she rose from the couch, her fingers coiling around his hand and forcing him to rise with her, their movements slow. “I want to be nowhere else. Even with my power, I couldn’t create a more perfect dream than the one where I met you.”

Happiness radiated from his being, on display from the curve of his lips to the tightening of his grip of her fingers in his.

There was more, so much more, but that was for later, because now they were in a hallway, business industrial, with a multitude of races milling around them.

Merc startled as the change in scene registered. A male, huge and bald, his skin with a hint of green undertone and his teeth too big and too sharp, passed them without looking in their direction.

Merc took in the giant male. “That’s Rorth. We’re in the headquarters of the Guild.” His eyes were wide, his tone impressed, and he looked at her now with respect, and, yes, fear, only a little, only a touch, only a moment, but there. “We’re in a dream.”

“In a dream.” The other was there, on the edges, but Amana would not give way to fear now, not when she accomplished what she wanted. This was to save Merc. They were going to get the Spellbook. What happened after would be after. “I need you to think about the Spellbook. Concentrate on it. See if it calls out to you.”

As Merc closed his eyes, Amana twisted her head to look into a faraway corner. Her double stood there, death-blue eyes unblinking, watching them with malevolent intent.

“This way.” Merc pulled, breaking her attention away from the double. They went down too many corridors that looked exactly the same, but Merc moved without hesitation, and then they stood in front of a huge double door, the magic so strong even in the dreamscape Amana choked on it.

“The new vault. That was fast.” Amana’s head cocked in confusion at Merc’s words, and Merc must have seen the question in her eyes, because he continued. “Couple months ago, the Guild was attacked and their vault was ransacked. This was a big deal because that vault held some of the deadliest, most powerful magic items and spells in any of the Realms. That’s where the Spellbook came from. I’m a little surprised they got a replacement so fast. The number of magical reinforcements must be incredible.”

If Merc felt only a quarter of what she felt, then he’d know his statement was instead an understatement, though it was doubtful his powers had any effect here. This was her space, her realm, and here only she could accomplish this task.

This daunting task, where magic beat against her in ways she’d never come across, not even in those few trips she’d dared try for her brother.

Merc froze. The entire landscape froze. The breath she did not need to exhale froze mid-air, and Amana’s next blink was eons in the making.

“You want inside, don’t you?” Her double leaned against the door, all nonchalance and easy demeanor. “To go through? To save
him
, and ultimately Nakoa? The true question, will you get in there without me?”

The doppelganger leaned her head back against the heavy door of the vault, the arch of her neck inviting Amana to wrap her hands around the delicate length. And
yet…
“Help me.”

Shock was shown in the wide teal eyes, the speed in which her head rose from the door. She glanced around, looking for the ambush, looking for the trap, before coming back to Amana. “What did you say?”

Amana strode forward, her steps strong and sure. Here, now, was the true test of her, of what she would sacrifice for those she loved, and it wasn’t a choice, it wasn’t a pass or a fail. She would pay the price needed. She would save Merc. She would free Nakoa.

No longer a scared girl. No longer a cowering mess. The time of words was past, ineffective actions that masked her failure, how she was holding onto that last part of herself. Begging attention for what she did, while deflecting from what she was refusing to do.

No longer.

Now she was in front of the other, their eyes locked. “Help me get the Spellbook. Help me break through.”

The other’s eyes gleamed, and a small smile stole over thin lips, a cruel tinge Amana had never noticed in the mirror. “As if this can stop a Dream Crafter.”

To the eye, nothing changed. The doors stayed locked. The walls remained in place. Magic, though, magic exploded, powerful forces slicking through the air around them, and they remained unmoving, uncaring, above such petty concerns like magic that could crush the foundations of the world touching either of them.

“Call for it,” the other said, and of course the Spellbook was waiting for her. She reached out her hand and it was there, warm, fragrant leather and crying for Merc, wanting to be rejoined with him.

“What happened?” Merc’s voice came from beneath her, as her head lay on his chest,
th-thump, th-thump
of his heart beneath her ear.

Amana woke up, the Spellbook wrapped in her arms, her eyes a teal blue, the color of the ocean as darkness sets in, all of death on display in their depths.

‡

“I
’m fine, I’m
fine,
I’m fine
.” Amana pulled her head away, shook it as he reached to touch the side of her face yet again. “You’re over worrying.”

He could almost believe her, almost put the sharp, pinched look on her face to the happenings of the night, but his mind would not be comfortable with the reasoning. He didn’t doubt his senses, and he wouldn’t start now even with the ready excuse of the high emotions of the last two days. For a moment her eyes had been a terrifying blue and there had been a stranger looking out from them.

As much to change the topic as to show pleasure at her success, she placed the Spellbook in his arms, pushing it towards his chest and forcing him to clutch it to him like a ragdoll. Here she smiled, and this smile was genuine, was full of triumph and joy. “We got it. Part one is done. Hadrien doesn’t have a chance now.”

The Spellbook pulsed in his arms, and if he dared let himself believe it, he would swear it emitted contentment, happy to be back with him. The feeling couldn’t be real, but a smile spread on his face in answer. “We got it.”

“Now, we need to go into the dream and get Hadrien–”

“No.”
Her scowl was immediate, and if she thought that would change his mind on this, she underestimated how deeply his need to keep her safe was. “No. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but don’t
lie
to me. Don’t tell me nothing happened.”

The way her eyes fell from his told the story, and he put the Spellbook to the side and hugged her close, fingers threading through the coarse blackness of her hair.

He placed small kisses at her temple, breathing her in, letting everything else drain away and leaving only the heaven of her in his arms. “I still have time, and I have friends still on my side. Let’s try to get Hadrien without involving you. If nothing pans out, we’ll talk, but for now let’s wait.”

“Only for now.” Aggression built within her, coming out in the tension of her body and the way she grabbed his hair, a harder reflection of his own gentler caresses. “If we can’t get him any other way, I
will
go after him. You won’t stop me.” Not letting him answer, she crashed her lips to his.

Their mouths meshed, tongues battling for dominance early as mouths and lips didn’t even wait to meet before the opened to each thrust, each aggression.

Her panting breaths ran through him,
good fuck
, and sharp white teeth met the plump flesh of his lip. She bruised and used, and pulled him away from her.

“This is where I climb you like a tree,” and the breathless laugh in her voice was punctuated by the move to do just that, the nails clawing into his shoulders and the legs wrapping around his outer thigh and moving up him, until she was above and he was below, until she was the aggressor and his tilted so far back the strain on his neck made swallowing near impossible, but pulling away from her to rectify their positions was even more undesirable, because that meant separating his mouth from hers.

Her fingernails scratched down his scalp, sparking pleasurable bursts through his system, top to bottom, all because of her. Her mouth bruised his, her body writhed atop his, the suggestive movements building him up so his cock now only held achy hardness. She could kick him back and decide to ride him like a horse, and he’d be ready to be mounted…and would love every minute of it, if the natural sensuality of her movements told true.

Amana pulled back but not to stop kissing him – no, now she attacked his neck, pushing his head further back and near tearing into him, aggression in every movement.

He wanted nothing more than to keep like this all night, but the discomfort pinged through his neck and shoulders, and he’d rather not have a sore neck as one of the remembrances of this night. He’d rather it all be pleasure, and the only aches ones that would cause wiggles and half-smiles the next day.

With that in mind, he pulled her back slightly, breaking the suction from his neck with such force he could almost feel the hickey being formed in the movement. “Bed,” and his voice had never been so rough, so turned on.

“Bed,” he repeated, because her eyes were unfocused, and fuck, there was nothing like a woman looking at you, hazy with passion, waiting for you to make it good for her.

Merc picked her up, not letting her go on her own speed, and headed for the bed. Even as he walked her mouth found his again, and the journey was made from memory as he prayed not to run into any walls and break the mood.

They collapsed into a heap where he pulled up and first pulled off his shirt, then hers. This was what he needed, her skin ready and on display for his mouth, and he leaned down to take full advantage, because fuck, she was beautiful, and she was here. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not after this.

His mouth found her nipple, a dark brown little nub which enticed him, invited him close to play, and play he did. To the symphony of her moans, he rolled the perky bundle between his lips, using his tongue to get her nice and wet, flicking it with the tip of his tongue and not letting go for a moment.

Her hands found their way to his hair again, kneading him like a cat, alternating between pulling him close and trying to pull him away.

In this he would not be dissuaded. He took his time, letting her moans go high and keening before he moved to her other breast, giving the same treatment to the other nipple.

Amana was rolling her hips underneath him, pushing her pelvis up into him, sparking through him desire swift as a wildfire.

The pants had to go, and he was the one to get rid of them. He pulled them down those gorgeous legs, spreading her legs in the process, and the dark hair that tufted from beneath her underwear had his cock hard and leaking.

She rushed up, crushing her lips to his again and pulling him down so he lay on top of her, skin to skin every inch crushed together. Her legs were parted and he was settled in the cradle of her thighs, and as she moved against him, he pushed back, only her thin panties and the rough denim of his jeans separating them.