by Dianna Love
She opened her mouth, probably intending to give him a sassy comeback, but he didn’t want her thinking. He wanted her to feel everything, with no hallucinations or stress. Using one hand to pull her to him, he allowed his other one freedom to roam her lovely breasts.
“Oh, yes,” she squeezed out. “Don’t stop!”
As if.
Holding her bottom close to him, which was pure torture, he slid his hand inside her panties from the back and ran one long finger through her damp skin. She arched up, lifting into the air.
He pulled her back down. “Easy, love.”
Then he contradicted that order by plunging the same finger inside her, moving it in and out. A second finger teased her sensitive folds at the same moment he pinched a nipple.
Tiny lightning bolts flashed around both of them. She called his name, and he loved it. Never letting up, he pushed her to give up all she had.
When she came back to reality, or as much as they had in the dream realm, he hugged her limp body to him. He whispered in Gaelic, telling her how much he loved her.
“Why can’t we stay here forever?” she asked in a breathless voice. “Forget about castles and goddesses and enemies.” She looked him squarely in the eyes. “All I need is you.”
He kissed her cheek, trying not to admit how many times he’d thought the same thing. But she didn’t realize she was getting worse and the dream world would not cure her. “I want you to be happy no matter where you are. You okay, love?”
“I won’t be runnin’ any races on these wobbly legs.” Releasing the fierce hold she had on his neck, she eased down the front of him. He held her until she could stand on her own.
He loved being the one who rocked her world.
She quipped, “Your back may be a mess.”
“It’d better be after that.”
“I’m not finished,” she said, matching his smug tone. She reached down to stroke his erection through the jeans.
He moaned, grasping her hand and stopping her. “You have no idea how much I want you, love, but—”
“But what?”
Tzader took a deep breath, pulling his honor around him to quench the inferno inside him. “Everything we do here has implications. Lanna tells me if we’re killed while dream walking, we die.” He wasn’t sure how that would play out for two immortals, but wasn’t taking any chances.
“If we make love...” His voice trailed off.
~*~*~
“Then we make love. What of it?” Brina punctuated that reply with a frown. Why would he be concerned? They had pledged their love long ago. “I’m not seein’ a problem. I know you, right now, right here. I’ve no idea about an hour from now.”
“And that’s why we’ll wait until you do know.” Tzader had that unyielding look in his eyes. “I won’t risk you ever looking at me and wondering if I took advantage of you when you had no idea who I was.”
“What about the last time here? I remember us naked in a dream in this very spot.”
“We were, but at that time I didn’t know we were dream walking. Not until Lanna clued me in. I thought it was just me dreaming that I was making love to you.” His eyes searched hers. “You’d tell me if you were pregnant, right?”
“Of course I would.” Then she amended, “Well, I’d be tellin’ someone.”
Brina felt a sharp stab of hurt at the idea she could be pregnant with Tzader’s child, but not remember whose it was. The good news was that she didn’t feel pregnant and should know if she was, right?
He seemed relieved, though. “That’s the reason we’re waiting. I will not make love to you, then leave you confused about what’s going on, and pregnant so that Macha can lock you away somewhere she deems safe.”
He had a valid point, and he was making an honorable choice.
That didn’t make it any better.
She’d tried to kill him because she hadn’t recognized him, but now she wanted to kill him for leaving her without finishing what he’d started.
Of course, she’d started it, so it would be dishonorable on her part to blame him.
Tzader cursed, then pulled her back in for another long kiss. “I can’t keep my damn hands off you. I want you too much.”
That put him back on her good side. She smiled. “Nice to know I’m not the only one left wantin’.”
“Not by a long shot. Once we have you a hundred percent, we’re spending a month away from everyone.”
That sounded wonderful until she took into consideration the part about her being fully recovered. “That may never happen, Tzader.”
“It will!” he said with the ferocity of a leader ordering an army to attack. “Lanna gave me something to try that might help bring back some of your memories permanently.”
“What is it? Let’s do it.”
He showed her his hand that had a weird drawing on it. “These are Cyrillic images she drew on my hand. She told me to hold your hand and repeat a chant right as we return to Treoir. If it works, you’ll gain at least the memories I hold of both of us. Then you’d know enough to convince Macha that you remember me.”
She felt his surge of pain at those words. “I don’t know you when I’m in the castle, do I?”
His smile was sweet and sad. “No, love, but once you have enough memories intact to prove you’re making progress, Macha will agree to let me continue to stay with you. If not, she’ll send me away.”
“I won’t allow that.”
He took her hand in his strong one. His words were gentle. “You may not remember ... us later on, love, but either way I don’t want you battling her. And I don’t want you worrying about remembering. I have a plan.” Not really, but he’d come up with one soon. “In the meantime, I need to know you’re safe no matter what.”
“I won’t fight her unless she thinks to harm you.” Brina pulled her arms back and crossed them. Tzader muttered, “You’re as stubborn as you are sexy.” He took a long look at her and covered his eyes. “You have to put clothes on again or ... just please put the pants back on for my sanity.”
She smiled, which was unkind since he was clearly suffering, but she loved the way he wanted her. “All done. I won’t be distractin’ you now.”
Uncovering his eyes, he released another long sigh. “Yes, you will, but that gives me a fighting chance at keeping my hands to myself so we can return. Back to Macha. None of this will matter if she puts you out of my reach.”
She nodded. “I understand. By the way, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Tryin’ to kill you.”
Arrogance flooded his grin. “I wouldn’t have let you.”
She cocked her head at him. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
He laughed. “There’s my flame-haired hellion. Let’s not argue until you have all your memories back, then have at it because I love making up with you.”
Truly, he was a rogue. But he’d made her heart smile again and she felt his love as truth. “We should be goin’ on to Treoir to see if Lanna’s spell works.”
“One more thing. When we get back to the castle, Macha is demanding to see us and for you to confirm that you do remember me as the man you intend to marry.”
Thoughts she’d just held scattered from her mind. She looked at Tzader and still knew him, but … Macha? Bits and pieces of an image floated through behind her eyes and out of reach. Brina argued, “Is what we do really any of that woman’s business?”
Tzader’s eyes bulged then his face took on a reserved expression when he calmly answered, “Sort of. That women does rule Treoir.”
“Why? Is she family?”
He looked confused. “She’s the Belador goddess, the most powerful being in our world.”
All that came to mind was a loud woman in the castle. Brina didn’t want to spend time talking about her. She waved off his comment. “Fine. We’ll appease Macha, but I’m not sure I want her stayin’ once we’re married.”
Tzader made a choking sound. “Ca
n you keep that between us for now? We may need her help.”
“If I must.”
He kissed her one more long time then moved back slightly to take her hands in his. “Close your eyes, and prepare to leave this world.”
She did as he said. When he felt Brina’s hand lose definition, he quickly began the chant, “Take these words to heart and mind—”
He’d almost made it to the last sentence when a noise startled him from the trance-like state he’d fallen into.
Brina was already leaving the dream world. Her body had turned translucent.
But he could hear heavy footsteps getting close.
Tzader swung around with his arm outstretched, calling the Belador sword that flew to his hand.
A man approached, dressed for war and carrying his own sword. An old relic. The stranger yelled, “I’ve come for Brina!”
Tzader said, “She is mine. Any man who touches her will die.”
Tzader, Brina’s voice whispered through his mind. Whose voice is that? Where are you?
He answered her telepathically. Go to the castle. I’ll be there soon.
But the spell?
Do not come back, love. He had to convince her, or she would return. You are the warrior queen. You are vital to the Belador power. If you’re harmed, it weakens me. A stranger is here. I’ll be back as soon as I deal with this bastard. Please, do as I ask.
Return soon, or I’ll be comin’ back for you.
He placed his wider body in front of her slender, vanishing form.
~*~
Brina finally gave in, even though it went against her nature. She preferred to stay and fight, but Tzader’s words reminded her she had responsibilities. She continued forcing her body through the half-state of transitioning from one world to the other.
As she drifted off, leaving the dream behind, a vicious clash of steel on steel rang through the air.
Her thoughts fogged and she fought to clear them.
Images assaulted her, jumbling together. Faces jumped in and out of her mind.
“Open your eyes, Brina!”
When Brina managed to peel back her eyelids, a woman five or ten years older than her stood over her. Glowing blonde hair fell to her waist, then lifted an inch off her shoulders.
She was ranting about something. Her hair flew out around her head, moving frenetically.
Brina clamped her hands over her ears. If that bitch did not shut up, she was going to call up a sword and shut her up.
Wait. I can do that, right?
She chased that thought, but it vanished into the ether.
Brina shoved up to a sitting position, and thankfully, the maniac stopped shouting. Instead the woman asked, “Where is Tzader, and what has he been telling you?”
Brina said, “Who the bloody hell are you, and what’s your problem?”
A whispered “Uh-oh,” drew Brina’s gaze to an adorable young woman with bouncy blonde curls. Who was she? Brina concentrated hard then snapped her fingers. “Lanna, right?”
Lanna gave her a weak smile and said, “Yes, but do not yell at Macha. She is goddess.”
Brina’s gaze went to the crazy woman. Goddess, huh?
Macha’s hazel-green eyes flamed into bright orbs.
Chapter 6
With Brina gone from the dream world, Tzader faced the threat striding boldly across the private clearing. No one should be privy to this place in the dream world except him and Brina.
Who was this guy?
A warrior. There could be no doubt of that by the way he carried himself. Plus, he held a sword that required serious muscle to swing. He wore a billowy white shirt that had seen a few battles and a weathered leather vest, both of which covered obvious slabs of muscle. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled to his elbows, and his pants, a faded black material, were stuffed into tall boots.
He looked like a warrior plucked from the past.
Those forearms were capable of cleaving a body in half diagonally with that sword and not slowing his swing as he did it.
He didn’t appear to be in a hurry, but moved with an easy confidence as he closed the fifty-foot distance.
Just what I don’t need in the middle of this mess with Brina. Worrying about her returning here and meeting some stranger. Her hallucinations were bad enough.
Had Lanna’s spell taken hold before Brina left, even though Tzader hadn’t finished the chant? Maybe Brina would at least retain the memories she’d grasped while here.
He shoved that aside. The sooner he dealt with this guy, the faster he’d return to Brina. Hopefully before Macha pushed her for answers.
Lanna’s warning about actions having real consequences during dream walking kept harping in the back of Tzader’s mind. Was this warrior also immortal? He’d like to have an instruction manual for the dream realm. Even without reading the fine print, he’d bet a fight to the death would mean just that based on what little he’d learned since visiting so often.
When the guy was twenty strides away, Tzader motioned with his sword to hold up. “Who are you?”
“You may call me Ceartas,” he said, slowing, and yet still moving forward.
Ceartas was not a familiar name. In Irish, the word translated to justice. Maybe this guy’s mind was out of whack in the dream world.
That brought up a new concern.
Could dream walking be causing Brina’s issues to worsen?
Another thing Tzader would have to investigate later when he wasn’t busy trying to get out of here alive.
Ceartas swung his sword back and forth in one hand, clearly warming up his muscles, and finally stopped. He had four inches on Tzader and maybe another thirty pounds of muscle, which was impressive since Tzader could bench press four hundred pounds.
This must be my day to get in sword practice. Tzader didn’t need to warm up. He was still loose from his earlier skirmish with Brina. That’d been the first time he’d seen her wield a sword in a while.
She’d been happy. He wanted her happy every day for the rest of her life. That she’d conjured the sword her father had ordered custom-made for her warmed Tzader’s heart.
She clearly remembered that.
“Pray, how are you with swingin’ that sword?” Ceartas asked.
“Skilled enough to kill anyone who challenges me.” It wasn’t boasting. Tzader had never been beaten when he held a Belador sword, and hoped putting that statement on the table up front would make Ceartas think twice.
“I have no’ battled one so worthy in many ... years,” Ceartas said.
From the way he spoke, Tzader wondered if it had been years or decades ... or centuries. And more importantly, what the hell had he meant when he said he’d come for Brina?
He’d just as soon avoid bloodshed, but he had no idea where this was going and he couldn’t just pop out of here with a sword at his neck. He asked, “How long have you wandered through this realm? Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten how to return to the world of the living?”
“I can return any time I wish.”
“Then why don’t you head back and—”
In one fucking quick move, the bastard attacked.
Tzader swung his sword up in time to keep his head still attached to his shoulders, and met each assault with the force he’d held back from Brina. In a blink he broke away, spun, and swung on the attack again.
Strike, strike, dodge, strike.
The clash of metal on metal zinged through the air.
Sweat poured across Tzader’s shirtless body. He had to give it to Ceartas. If the guy had been dream walking for eons, he’d been swinging a sword the whole time.
His opponent smiled. He was enjoying the match way more than he should.
Ceartas lost his footing and Tzader attacked, calling up his Belador power to finish this off without having to harm the guy.
Energy flashed across the clearing, and Ceartas glowed all the way down his arms to the tip of his sword.
What. The. Fuck?<
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Ceartas twisted his neck back and forth, then nodded. “Ready.”
Tzader sighed and moved forward, in no hurry.
Rushing into a fight gave up any advantage.
With the next swing of Ceartas’s glowing sword, Tzader blocked, bringing him close to his opponent. They strained against each other, but Tzader could tell that this crazy guy’s power was unlike anything he’d ever encountered.
Ceartas said, “Got any ale?”
Ale? Who asked for ale in the middle of a fight? “No.”
“Damn. I would stop for a drink.”
Lanna had told Tzader these were his dreams, and the elements in a dream world would respond to him. While he did not possess her majikal ability, he had envisioned a few things that appeared, much like the swords Brina had called up.
Easing his pinkie finger loose without giving up any ground, Tzader pointed at the ground and thought beer.
Nothing happened.
Never letting up on the pressure against Tzader’s sword, Ceartas watched with a curious and guarded expression.
Maybe he needed more focus and detail. Tzader wished for two tall mugs of frosty beer ... that appeared. Damn. How about that?
Grinning, Ceartas shoved hard enough to send Tzader flying backwards and walked over to lift one of the mugs.
Tzader bounced up to his feet and shook off the jarring hit. He waited to see what came next. He’d been knocked off his feet with powerful kinetics before, but no man had ever sent him flying.
Besides, that hadn’t been kinetics.
Ceartas carried power that he’d only allowed to peek out.
Realization struck Tzader between the eyes. This warrior had clearly been around for centuries or at least he was from another century—who the hell knew what was possible in this dream world?—which meant he was almost certainly immortal, and had the power to kill Tzader, even without a sword.
After downing a healthy slug of beer, Ceartas let out a loud belch and a happy sigh. He frowned at Tzader. “Are both o’ these for me?”
Shaking his head to himself, Tzader materialized a scabbard and sheathed his blade. His sword would only delay the inevitable if this guy decided to kill him.
