Betsy stood and stripped naked in the next moment, and before Amy could gasp, leapt into the air over the water and dove straight in. Niko was seconds behind her.
Another mate bond advantage. She was her dragon, and her dragon was her. She could stand the icy water and swim like she was born to it.
Taking a deep breath, Amy lifted herself off the rock where she was sitting, hidden by some scraggly, winter-naked bushes, and started to turn to her car. Before she could turn completely away, she saw a flash of blue magic in the water and took another glance at the rock where the clothes were sitting. Niko had Betsy pressed against the rock in the water, in his human form, and a cry of sexual delight issued from her friend.
Time to go.
The hotel was warm and welcoming. One of only two in the whole town, and paid for the by the University, they were run by the magicals of the town. The one in the New Town was run by a siren, and the one in the Old Town, near the edge of Stellingwerf University property, was run by a vampire. He was, naturally, the night manager and smiled at her as she trudged back to the room.
After a shower to warm up and wash off, Amy sat on the bed, staring at the dark television for a few minutes before finally turning it on and finding a musical channel. Moving with more and more conviction, she pulled out all the little things she always had around when she went dreamwalking: a gorgeous pink quartz crystal from her mother, who never really understood that dreamwalking wasn’t a mystic art—it was just a talent, a bottle of water, a small tealight candle holder, and a bar of chocolate. She usually needed a sugar shock after.
If nothing else, she was excellent at falling asleep at the drop of a hat.
She knew he was there. She always knew what her Brent felt like in her dreams. She saw him often and followed him on the dream plain, but she had never actually asked to enter his dreams.
This time she did. “Brent, love, may I come in?”
A veil of fog thinned and parted like a curtain in front of her. She had the power to take over the dreams of anyone who wasn’t part of the magical community, she never had to ask permission, but she also knew dreamwalkers who had regretted doing that. For her own sake, and her own safety, she asked.
He was standing there smiling at her, and his arms opened when he saw her. “Hey, baby. It’s been a while. Aren’t I asleep?”
Grinning, Amy stepped into his arms. “You are, my love. But I am a dreamwalker and I wanted to see my fiancé. It’s been too long.”
“Amy,” he whispered.
Dreams were funny things. With all her strength she could control every aspect of the dreamworld. Her father had taught her everything. How to drive a person mad from the inside out, even to kill them. Most times, she just went with the flow of the person she was walking with and enjoyed the odd flow of things. It wasn’t a shock that her clothes changed, and her hair flowed back into the white blonde lengths she actually had. She could almost feel the color of her eyes go back to the green she had, and smiled up at Brent.
“Are you already forgetting what I look like, B?”
“Oh, of course not, Amy. I just didn’t expect you here…in my head?”
“Mm, yes. In your dreams. I’m a dreamwalker, Brent. It’s a talent I have. I have waited too long to tell you this. We could have been visiting all this time and I’m sorry. I have a lot to tell you, but getting this dreamwalking talent off my chest feels good.”
“Your chest feels good.”
“Dirty.”
He leaned down and kissed her hard. “I have a lot of questions for you, Aim. Dreamwalking? I mean, isn’t that just a legend?”
“I have a lot of things you need to know.” She reached up and kissed him this time. But we can talk about all that in person. We’ll be home for Christmas.”
“You found her?”
“We did!”
“That’s amazing. Oh, Amy, you aren’t going to believe what happened at the office the other day…”
“Can we just talk about us, Brent? About my family and yours? About our plans for the future? You know I support your whole office and whole career, but I just found my best friend after three years of hoping and I need this to be about us.”
His face flickered in the dreamworld, like a glitch in the digital stream and then cleared. “Sure, Amy. Of course.”
June
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina
“Are you really ready for this?”
Amy flopped down on the bed in the hotel, next to Betsy, staring up at the ceiling.
Betsy turned her head and stared at her from that odd angle. “You do realize that in the eyes of all the magical communities in the world, Niko and I have been married for seven months already.”
“Yeah, but this is the human world you grew up in. This is the big enchorita!”
Betsy laughed hard. “Enchorita. To this day, you use that.”
“Best cartoon show ever.” She sat up. “You’re really ready? Tonight, at the beach. Just about eight hours from now you’ll legally be Mrs. Erzabet Tavoularis.” Amy wrinkled her nose. “You’re going with that?”
“No one will let me change my first name, so yeah.”
“You don’t like Erzabet?”
“Woman, really? There’s a reason you didn’t know it was my real name until I was almost eleven.” Betsy sat up. “Are you ready? You’re getting married in October.”
“I want you to be there.” Amy was quiet after that.
Standing and walking to the closet, Betsy pulled it open slowly. “You know I can’t be.”
“Can’t or don’t want to?”
“Well, first, I can’t. I am literally going to be in prison for the next two years. And I don’t want you to wait.”
“What’s the second?” Amy didn’t like this.
Betsy stared into the closet. “Brent doesn’t like me. He doesn’t really want me to be your maid of honor. He wants his sister there, and that…”
“That what?” Now, she really didn’t like this. “That what, Bets?”
“Other woman. Your mutual friend. Grace. He thinks she’d be a better fit for your party and your pictures.”
“Grace and Hannah are going to be in the party, but there’s no one like you. There’s no one I want standing there to witness my wedding. Please don’t ever forget that you are my oldest and dearest friend, Betsy. I’ll talk to Brent…”
Grabbing Amy’s arm, Betsy shook her head. “No, please, Aim. Don’t do that. It’s a moot point. I can’t be there anyway. Let it rest. I don’t want your future husband to be pissed at me for our whole lives. He’ll never let you come out and visit me in Minnesota!”
“I can’t believe you’re not going to live in Blowing Rock!”
Smiling, she grabbed Amy’s arm and pulled them over to the balcony to look at the bright blue Atlantic as the sun climbed higher for the day. It wasn’t completely warm yet, but there were a lot of vacationers already. “Minnesota is his home, Amy. He loves it there. He has everything he needs and now that the store is fixed, he’s so happy, so whole. His jewelry designs are everything to him. It’s in his bones to do this, and the nomad I was is happy to stay there with him.” She reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled a small velvet bag with the Tavoularis Gems and Jewels logo on it. “He made this for you. It’s your maid of honor gift, from both of us. It’s a speaking stone, and it told him that it was meant for you.”
Amy found her hand was trembling. The speaking stones were rare, and that her friend’s mate had found one for her was probably even more rare. Pulling the strings open, she peered into the bag and a bright blue topaz caught the late morning sun. She gasped. Tipping the bag, she poured the gem into her hand and gasped again, tears pricking at her eyes. The gem was the color of Max’s eyes, and it was a massive cushion cut with no visible flaws. It was secured in a six-prong setting that showed only the fasteners, and two half carat diamonds on either side of the loop at the top. The chain was a thin, silvery filigree that was design
ed to be nearly invisible on the skin.
“Bets…”
“It’s a five carat. He found it at a trade show in New York. It’s from Namibia.”
“This is too much.”
Raising an eyebrow, Betsy stared her down. “Really?”
“Really.”
“It’s yours. I don’t want it back. I have my ring, and if anyone else wears it, they’ll have bad luck. All the time. So it’s yours.”
Amy had to curb the urge to explain that Brent would never allow her to wear it. She could only wear the things he gave her, which was not much. The engagement ring was small—he’d called it understated—and there was only one bracelet, a Kohl’s watch he’d gotten on clearance the day before her birthday, and a tiny necklace with ‘B’ on it, “So you remember me when you look in the mirror.”
Glancing over, she saw the rock Betsy was sporting. Her mating stone, a speaking stone, in a setting designed by her soon-to-be husband specifically and only for her. A labor of love, and as massive a goddamn diamond as she had ever seen. She knew that was going to have to come off in a few days when she was going to turn herself in, but it was still hers. Niko had spent real money on that stone—dragons never cheated or undersold each other when it came to their jewels.
She also knew about the diamond he was going to give to her tonight. She had helped him design the necklace, not unlike the one that Niko and Betsy had just given her. More than she needed to know, he said he wanted her in bed with just that jewel on.
Brent would never say anything even remotely as sexual or breathtaking as that.
“Can I put the necklace on you? It goes with your dress perfectly.”
Amy laughed, hard. “This goes with anything I’d ever wear!”
They fell together in a hug, laughing.
The knock on the door was breakfast arriving, and the bridal store was right behind them with the dress. Person after person after person arrived and left from the room, each one adding a little more to the perfection that was going to be Betsy’s wedding day. Carl appeared at some point to check on everyone and tell them that everyone but Brent was there. Most of the guests were in the cocktail lounge waiting for the ceremony in a little over an hour, and Betsy and Amy shooed him out.
“That worked out well,” Amy smiled.
“What? Brent?”
“No, doof. The cocktail hour. You said you wanted to have before the ceremony and the welcome drinks after. I couldn’t figure out why, but everyone is down there now. It makes total sense.”
“I didn’t want people to feel like we were shoveling all the food down their throat afterward.” She smiled. “But, Amy? Where’s Brent?”
“I’m going to text him. He said he’d be here around now, so I’m not worried. He usually runs a few minutes late.”
The truth was, she was terrified that he was going to stand her up at this wedding. He hated everything about the magical world she half inhabited and had to spend time in. It had gotten worse and worse once she showed him what she could do in dreams. That was then multiplied when she started to explain the Sectorum. Now, they were at the point where he hated being around her friends on the chance they were magical.
It was starting to sound like…she didn’t want to marry him.
Aims: Hey, love. Where are you?
Brent: BMitchell has shared his trip with you! Click this link to follow in real time!
The answer was more than disappointing. She clicked the link and her app opened on her phone, and she instantly saw that he had two hours left to the drive. Her heart sank.
Aims: Brent, what happened? You were supposed to get here at 6, not 8.
Aims: The ceremony will be over.
Brent: Trouble in office. Driving. Talk later.
It took everything she had left to not smash the phone against the wall. Always with the office. He wasn’t even supposed to go in, and yet there he was, running late because God forbid someone in that office have a clue on how to fix something without his constant attention and direction.
“Amy?”
“He’s not going to make the ceremony,” she managed to squeak out.
“Oh, Amy, I’m sorry.”
Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders and headed for the door. “I need a drink, a bit of fresh air, and a minute. I’ll be back in about fifteen.” She forced a smile. “I’ll send Keni up.” Without giving Betsy a chance to show any pity, she was out the door. She didn’t want to see the pity, she wanted a drink.
The room where the cocktail hour had been set up was overflowing with people. Keni was at the main entrance, greeting people in her dark blue, tea length bridesmaid’s dress. She was smiling and gracious as always. Amy tapped her on the shoulder.
“Could you go sit with the bride? I need a minute.”
“Of course! Are you okay?”
“No, but there’s nothing you can do about it and it’s not Bets’ fault.”
“Take it easy, Amy. And take your time. We have plenty of it.”
Amy nodded and trotted back out of the room, managing to snag a waiter with a tray of champagne and strawberries. Grabbing a flute, Amy made it to the huge back doors of the lobby and walked out to the patio there. She took a huge gulp of the champagne and let it burn and tickle all the way down her throat. Brut. Because that’s what Pappous wanted. Everything she had been drinking to that point was non-brut, sweet, and almost soothing. This was rough, and she needed the burn. Thank God Pappous had bad taste in champagne.
Everything that had been going on, everything from the way Brent had started to act weird around her, to his fear of her dreamwalking, to the control of what she could wear and who she hung out with, was not the man she had fallen for.
Brent Mitchell, in college, had been sweet, handsome, kind. He had treated her right, and treated her well on the tiny little budgets they had. He wanted to be a tech manager, and he’d made it. She’d been working on law and knew she was going join Carl’s firm. That all seemed to be fine for both of them.
“Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs with the bride?”
His voice wrapped around her. It had been five months since she’d seen him last at the airport as they left to head back to North Carolina to deal with everything. But she couldn’t forget that voice or the warmth and welcome that wrapped around her when she heard it. She also couldn’t forget what a dick he’d been to her.
She didn’t turn around. “Maximillian Czerkanowicz. I had hoped to avoid you.”
“That’s hard to do when you’re the maid of honor and I’m one of the groomsmen.”
Rolling her eyes, she took another hard draught on the champagne.
“Careful, you wouldn’t want to lose your senses and be nice to someone.”
She whirled on him. “You started this. You’re the asshole. I was nothing but nice to you and you just turned on me. So take your smart comments and shove them up your ass. I don’t need you here.”
He cocked his head. “Oh, that’s right. You have Brent. Where is the knight in shining armor?”
“He’ll be here,” she snapped the words at him, and turned away.
There was silence behind her, but she knew he had moved closer. “He’s late, isn’t he?”
“What do you care?”
“He hurt you, Amy, that’s what. He’s your fiancé. He’s supposed to treat you like gold.”
“He does.” She almost didn’t get the words out, and the tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes.
A big, warm, careful hand landed on her bare shoulder, and a hot flush rushed through her. Max had the softest skin. He tugged her around to face him and studied her for a moment. “You’re not a good liar, Miss Hogan.”
“He said he’d be here!” she cried and stopped trying to hold back the tears.
Max wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, careful of her makeup and hair—which was far more than Brent would ever do. “It’s okay, Amy. I’m sure he’s on his way.”
&n
bsp; “He is. And he’s fucking late. Because he had to do something at the office. There’s always something at the office! This is Niko and Betsy’s wedding! My best friend of twenty years is getting married and some stupid fucking software glitch at his trading firm on a Saturday is more important.”
Max leveled a gaze at her, and goddamn it, she wanted to stay there in his arm. She could feel how well built he was. “He is coming, though?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
He suddenly had a handkerchief—who the hell carried those anymore—and dabbed at her tears. “Tell you what. You’re going to believe him. He’ll be here. Late, but he’ll be here. Take that at face value. Now isn’t the time to start worrying about anything else.” She wanted to argue, but he held up a finger. “Nope. Not now. Whatever you were thinking before, just tuck it away that your fiancé is chronically late. That’s all.”
Nodding, she stepped away from him before she had any more tempting thoughts about his amazing body. He held out the handkerchief and she took it, seeing the bit of makeup on it. “I’m sorry. I’ll replace that.”
“Please don’t.” He smiled. “I don’t get to give those to beautiful women anymore. Betsy’s probably waiting for you. You should head back up.” Holding out his hand, she handed him the empty flute and he nodded her off.
She headed for the elevators to the room. Blotting a few more tears off her face, she glanced at the handkerchief. It was gorgeous linen, with lace on the edges, and a monogram in the corner—mCv—in the same pale blue as his eyes.
This was a Victorian-style Tinder swipe right.
Why the hell had he given her that handkerchief?
He’d had dozens made up when he lived in London, in 1901, and soon after the Victorian era started to give way to the Edwardian and he still had dozens of them left. He didn’t even know why he’d grabbed one to keep on him. No one did that anymore. Everyone just used paper tissues and online dating apps.
Skydance Page 5
