by Jayne Castle
“Bad?” she asked, more uneasy than ever. “I tried to tell you—”
“No,” he said. “Not bad. Just unusual.” He seemed to be searching for the right word. “Intimate.”
“Intimate?”
He nodded, satisfied with the word. “I think that’s the best way to describe it.”
It was her turn to be confused. “Creepy intimate or weird intimate?”
“More like sexy intimate.”
She felt the heat rise in her face and was grateful for the shadows.
“No one has ever described it that way,” she said. “When I spent the night in Grady’s lab he told me the instruments registered severe disruption of my dreamlight patterns during the dream-walking episode. He said he had seen more stable patterns in dreamlight talents who were locked up in para-psych wards. He said it was a wonder I was still . . . sane. Between you and me, I’m pretty sure he has a few doubts.”
“I’ve known some crazy talents. You’re not one of them. Obviously, Barnett’s instruments were not sophisticated enough to measure your aura patterns accurately.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“Hannah, I’m an engineer with a talent for working with paranormal crystal energy. In addition, I am descended from a family with a gene pool that is anything but normal. I can tell you with absolute certainty that there is still a hell of a lot we don’t know about para-biophysics and the human aura. What’s more, our instruments for measuring those things are still extremely primitive.”
“But you think my dreamlight energy feels . . . normal?” she asked.
“Your aura is no more normal than mine. But it’s strong and it’s stable.”
“Grady said—”
“Do we have to talk about Barnett tonight?”
She caught her breath. “Excellent question. No, we don’t have to talk about him.”
“You’re not exactly normal. Neither am I. Coppersmiths don’t have a problem with not being normal. You could say it’s a family tradition.”
“You don’t know how much that means to me,” she said. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a compliment, damn it. It’s just a fact.”
She smiled. “It’s the best gift you could have given me tonight.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t call it a gift.”
“Depends on your point of view, I suppose. You see, so many people have told me that my para-psych profile is creepy weird that, deep down, part of me believes it. The fact that I’ve got certain intimacy issues has just reinforced the negative stuff.”
“Understandable.”
“Well, enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”
“Okay,” Elias said. But he sounded wary.
“When I was dream-walking a few minutes ago, my dopp was trying to tell me something important about you.”
“Your dopp?”
“Doppelgänger.”
“That’s what you call your dream-walking self?”
“Yes. When I go into the lucid dream trance it’s like there’s two of me. The metaphysical me and the . . . other . . . me, the physical me.”
“What was your doppelgänger telling you?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. All I’m sure of is that it was important. I suppose sooner or later I’ll figure it out.”
“It’s been a rough couple of days. You need sleep.”
“We both need sleep,” she said.
But she made no move to crawl back inside the sleeping bag. Elias did not move, either. He just watched her, his eyes burning with a smoldering kind of heat.
She did not want to sleep, she thought. Not just yet. A sparkly delight, a rare excitement, was unfurling deep inside her, heating her blood and stirring her senses—all of her senses.
The hot, giddy sensation was probably the result of lack of sleep combined with the primal paranormal energy of the surrounding Rainforest, she thought. Not to mention the subtle influence of the paranormal vibes whispering out of the portal cave.
“Would you mind very much if I kissed you before I go back to sleep?” she said.
There was a short, tension-infused silence. Her heart sank. She had misread the vibe in the atmosphere between them. Okay, maybe he didn’t think she was borderline crazy, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to go to bed with her.
She was trying to come up with a diplomatic way out of what had to be the worst moment of her always awkward social life when Elias moved. He reached across the short, shadowy space between them and stroked the side of her cheek with his fingertips. His hand was a little rough but in an exciting way, and very strong. It was the hand of a man who worked with tools and raw quartz. It was the hand of a man who had spent time in the Rainforest and mining camps—the hand of a man who knew how to handle power, his own as well as the kind locked in hot gemstones and charged amber.
That just made the tender gesture all the more beguiling.
“I would like it very much if you kissed me,” he said.
He wrapped his palm around the back of her neck.
She shivered.
Gently he tugged her toward him.
Excitement splashed through her. He wanted her. And she wanted him.
She literally threw herself across the short distance that separated the cots, going straight into his arms.
Elias groaned, the sound low and rough, as though it emanated from some deep, secret place inside him. He fell back onto his cot, taking her with him. She sprawled on top of his hard, muscled chest, intensely aware of the heat of his body.
He captured her face between his palms and kissed her, fiercely urgent and seemingly desperate.
She could feel the power and the strength of him through the layers of clothing. His erection strained against the fabric of his trousers. She reached down and covered him with her hand. He sucked in his breath as if he were in pain. But in the next moment he found the sensitive skin of her throat with his mouth and it was her turn to catch her breath.
She gasped and pressed herself more tightly against the whole length of his body. His hands slid to her waist and then up under the hem of her black pullover. She felt him pause.
“You wear a bra to bed?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper in her ear.
“Not usually,” she said, chagrined. So much for the cool, always-in-control image. “Tonight is different.”
“You can say that again.”
With a few determined moves he stripped off the pullover and then the practical, very unsexy bra she always wore when she went into the Underworld.
When she was nude from the waist up he somehow managed to reverse their positions on the narrow camp bed so that she wound up on her back. His breathing was growing harsh now. The knowledge that he was so deeply aroused kicked her excitement level higher.
He crowded close along the length of her and went to work unfastening her jeans. He managed to haul them down over her hips. When he got them all the way to her ankles, she kicked them off.
He removed her panties inch by inch. By the time they went sailing over the side of the cot she was soaking wet between her thighs. A great urgency was building within her.
He stroked her intimately and groaned again when he found her hot and damp.
Reluctantly, he freed himself to roll to his feet beside the cot. He peeled off his trousers and briefs. When he lowered himself back onto the cot, she made a place for him between her legs, welcoming him.
He mantled her with the hard, masculine weight of his body. Again he reached down between them and stroked her in a shatteringly intimate way that left her breathless and consumed with a dizzying sense of discovery.
She clenched her fingers in his hair and raised her knees.
“Now,” she whispered into his ear. “Now.”
She felt him pushing i
nto her, slowly but with unrelenting force. The skin of his back was damp with sweat. He was fighting to control himself.
He filled her with a slow, deep thrust. The sensation was almost unbearable. She had never come so close to the precipice.
Belatedly, she realized that she was about to lose control. She never lost control. She did not dare to lose control.
The old panic rose like a tide within her. She froze.
Elias went very still and raised his head. When he spoke, his voice was a harsh, grating whisper.
“Hannah? Are you . . . all right?”
“Yes. No.” She clutched him close even as she knew she should let him go. “It’s just that I’m afraid that if we . . . finish this . . . it might affect your aura.”
He rested his damp forehead against hers. “My aura can damn well take care of itself.”
She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. It was a soft, shaky laugh, but it was real.
“Like your car?” she said.
“Something like that.”
She thought about how they had held hands and walked through the dreamlight gate that guarded the Midnight Carnival, and then she remembered how he had gripped her hand while she took down the portal cave barrier. She had trusted him to know his strengths and limitations on those two occasions. She would trust him now.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
She wrapped her legs around him. He groaned and started to move within her, going deeper and harder and faster.
Once again the sweet, frantic tension built rapidly within her. She was caught up in a rushing river of energy that tangled her senses and stole her breath. And Elias was there with her. She stopped trying to resist the inevitable.
He moved within her one last time, and this time she tightened herself around him, refusing to let him withdraw again.
They plunged over the falls together.
He covered her mouth with his own, silencing her shriek of pleasure and surprise. The kiss also muffled his deep, aching growl of release.
The energy of their clashing auras was a thrill ride unlike any other rush Hannah had ever known.
And then, for a heartbeat or two, she was certain that the currents of her aura were actually resonating with the waves emanating from Elias’s energy field.
It was the most profoundly intimate experience she had ever known.
So this is what it’s like, she thought as she tumbled into the pool below the waterfall.
Chapter 17
The dream-walking started again . . .
“What now?” the dreamer asked, annoyed by the interruption to what had been an otherwise luxuriously peaceful, dream-free sleep. It was the first time she had gone to sleep in a man’s arms without suffering unfortunate repercussions.
But her doppelgänger refused to pay attention. She rose from the camp bed and looked down at the dreamer.
“Get up,” the doppelgänger said in the silent language of dreams.
The dreamer tried to resist.
“It’s too quiet,” the doppelgänger said.
This was not an observation. It was a warning. The dreamer knew better than to ignore the urgent message her intuition was sending.
Reluctantly, the dreamer stirred. The doppelgänger returned to the cot. The metaphysical and the physical merged once more.
The shock brought Hannah fully awake, her heart pounding. Instinctively she tried to sit up but something heavy pinned her to the cot. In a wild panic now, she fought the weight.
“Easy,” Elias said. He spoke directly into her ear. “Hush.”
The weight was abruptly removed from her chest. She realized in a somewhat blurry fashion that it had been Elias’s arm wrapped around her that had briefly trapped her. She took some deep breaths, trying to calm the rush of adrenaline and psi.
But there was another kind of weight in the atmosphere. It pressed on her, urging her to sink back into sleep. She struggled to resist it, automatically rezzing her talent.
The oppressive sensation receded.
Her first thought was that Elias had been wrong. His aura couldn’t handle her dreamlight currents, after all. At least he hadn’t awakened screaming. But then, this was Elias. It would take a lot to make him wake up in a raw panic.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, mortified. “I’m not used to sleeping with anyone.”
“Quiet.” He touched his fingers to her lips. “Feel the silence?”
She started to ask him what he meant. But the doppelgänger’s words came back to her. It’s too quiet.
It was as if the entire camp had been smothered in a senses-muffling fog. She had to use a lot of energy to resist the tug of a deep sleep.
“Yes,” she said. “I can feel it.”
Satisfied that she had received the message, Elias released her and sat up on the edge of the cot. She watched him pull on his trousers and boots with quick, efficient moves. He scooped up the flamer and went to the entrance of the tent. His broad shoulders were silhouetted against the soft glow of the amber lantern that burned at the entrance.
The stone in his ring glowed with a dark, paranormal fire. She knew then that he was using his talent to fend off the pressing weight of an unnatural sleep.
“Get dressed,” Elias ordered softly.
But she was already on her feet. She struggled into her panties and jeans, ignoring the bra. She yanked the pullover down over her head and shoved her feet into the ankle boots.
Elias unfastened the flap that sealed the entrance of the tent. Four eyes, two of them a predatory yellow-gold, stared into the interior.
Virgil blinked and scurried through the opening. Hannah caught him and plopped him on her shoulder. He was sleeked out, ready for the hunt. There was no welcoming chortle and no growl. Like all natural-born predators he was at his most dangerous when he went silent. She noticed that he still had his Arizona Snow doll.
Elias was moving quietly, too. He made almost no sound when he eased out of the tent. He paused a moment and then motioned for Hannah to follow him.
When she stepped through the opening she realized that the heavy silence weighed like a shroud on the entire campsite. The amber lanterns still glowed, illuminating the scene, but nothing moved.
“There’s no security,” Elias said, keeping his voice low. “Whoever did this probably took the guards down first.”
She wanted to ask him why he was so certain that the frightening silence had been induced by a human. There was, after all, a great deal of unknown energy drifting through the Rainforest. But this didn’t seem like the right time to get into a technical discussion of the problem.
He led the way through the orderly rows of tents. No one stirred. When he reached the perimeter he stopped and crouched beside what appeared at first glance to be a lump of laundry. It took Hannah a couple of seconds to realize that it was a man dressed in the uniform of a security guard. She caught her breath, her pulse skidding wildly.
Elias touched the guard’s throat and then tried shaking the man’s shoulder. There was no response.
“He’s alive,” Elias said quietly. “Just fast asleep. I don’t think I can wake him.”
Hannah went closer and jacked up her talent. The dreamlight in the guard’s aura was strong but dark.
“He’s in a very deep sleep, more like a trance,” she said.
Elias looked around at the unnaturally still scene. “Someone put everyone under.”
“I’m not claiming a vast amount of experience in this sort of thing, but I do know a fair amount about dreamlight,” she said. “I think it’s safe to say that a single talent could not have mustered the kind of energy it would take to put so many people into such a deep trance.”
“I agree. I’m not aware of any human-made para-tech that could do this, either. Even if some lab has come up with a device powerful
enough to put a lot of people under simultaneously, it wouldn’t function well in the Underworld. We can barely get amber lanterns and flamers to work down here.”
Hannah looked at him. “That leaves Alien tech, doesn’t it?”
“That’s the most logical conclusion. Looks like someone found a really interesting artifact and figured out how to use it.”
“So why aren’t we sound asleep?”
“Got a hunch it was your talent that saved you,” Elias said. “Your ability to handle dreamlight probably gives you some natural immunity to whatever did this.”
“What about you?”
He held up his hand, displaying the dark fire in his ring. “This is my own private alarm system.”
“But why would someone do this to a camp full of people?”
“I don’t know for sure yet, but my working hypothesis is that whoever is behind this is the same bastard who tried to trap nine people inside the ruins.”
“Pirates?”
“Probably—with the help of someone on the inside.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense. I’m going to try to wake Hank Richman.”
“If he’s locked in a trance like this guard, I might be able to bring him out of it.”
“And the others?”
“I think so, but it will take time and a lot of energy.”
“Richman, first; he’s the head of security,” Elias said.
He led the way to one of the private tents at the edge of the clearing. The waterproof plastic flap that served as a door was closed but unsealed. Elias pushed it aside and aimed a flashlight into the interior.
“Richman is gone,” he said. “What the hell happened here?”
“Want me to take a look? If I get a fix on his psi-prints inside the tent, I can probably follow them to see where he went.”
“You can make out psi-prints in this environment?”
She knew he was referring to the heavy atmosphere of the Rainforest.
“If he went into the jungle I won’t be able to track him,” she said. “It’s an ocean of paranormal energy. But if he’s still here in the clearing, I should be able to see his prints, particularly if he was in the grip of some strong emotion—fear or anxiety or alarm.”
