by M. L. Ryan
“No one is certain about either,” Sebastian replied grimly. “However, it is estimated that there is a fifty-fifty chance his location could be narrowed down to a ten- or twenty-mile radius. As for the worst,” he said quietly, “the worst is too horrible to consider.”
“Yo, Mr. Gloom-and-Doom, try to curb the drama. You act like I might end up brain dead.”
I intentionally served up a perfect straight-line for Sebastian to try to lighten the mood. I expected him to say something along the lines of, “Your lack of mental acuity could not possibly be diminished any more than it is under normal circumstances.” Instead, with great sadness in his grey eyes, he murmured, “No, but the prolonged engagement could affect your emotional stability.”
That didn’t sound good, and it was unlike Sebastian to pass up a chance to needle me. “Like moderately neurotic handled with an occasional Xanax, or bat-shit, padded-walls crazy?”
Sebastian just shrugged. “That is why we consider it too big a risk.”
All righty then, I thought nervously. But the more I considered the dilemma, the less edgy I became. For some inexplicable reason—most likely my complete ignorance concerning arcane slumber-GPS methodologies—I really didn’t feel I’d be harmed.
I squared my shoulders. “Too big a risk is doing nothing. If you think there’s a chance this will be useful, I’m game.”
Alex squeezed my hand and looked deep into my eyes. “You are a remarkable woman, Hailey Parrish. Is there any wonder why I adore you?”
I hoped he’d still feel that way if I ended up a drooling simpleton.
17
Based on my experience, the scientists—who I referred to as Hypnos and Morpheus after the ancient gods of sleep and dreams—were much like most of the human researchers I’d known: focused, with excellent problem solving skills, except less geeky and socially awkward.
The preparation turned out to be more complicated than any of us anticipated. It took two entire days just to adjust how much magic was required to keep me asleep but still able to dream. It wasn’t as though they attached me to some device to monitor my brain waves. Oh no, with magical sleep-induction, one scientist put his fingers on my temples to put me out, while another groped the top of my head to determine if I was dreaming. I asked how one could tell by simply laying on hands, but the explanation was way too New Age-Woo Woo for me. Measurement of electrical signals between neurons I could understand, but tactile pigment assimilation? Apparently, very talented Courso could feel colors emanating from a person’s subconscious.
Alex and Sebastian were insistent that everything was practiced and practiced again before they’d give the go-ahead for the real thing, an added bit of caution I completely supported. If I was playing the guinea pig with my mental stability on the line, there couldn’t be too much rehearsal and, despite their purported expertise with all things related to sleep, neither Hypnos nor Morpheus had ever tried anything quite like this before.
In my hawk form, I was capable of telepathy, so we even tried having me bend prior to the procedure. It seemed like a great idea—while I was out, I could let someone know if I was in trouble—but the one time we actually tried it, as soon as I was sedated, I reverted back to myself.
As an added precaution, we agreed that Rufus should be present since he seemed to sense when Doc was poking around my dreams. Even if all he did was pick up on my state of mind, the dog was likely to alert everyone if I became overly agitated. Like if Doc started sucking the sanity out of me.
Once we finally got all the kinks worked out, the research and development went into the production phase. And quite a production it was: Alex, Sebastian, Hypnos, Morpheus, and GPS—the scientist assigned to locate Doc—five guards, Rufus, and Tannis serving as the dog’s handler, all staring at me as I lay on an oversized daybed in the queen’s private rooms. Rexa was adamant that I should be as comfortable as possible, given the fact I was putting myself at risk trying to locate Doc Martens. I had to hand it to her; she really knew how to make a foreigner feel at home. If I hadn’t been scared out of my wits, I’d probably have been luxuriating amongst the silky duvet and all the fancy pillows. Instead, I tried to calm myself by trying to recall all the words to Macklemore’s Thrift Shop. Not the best song choice; when I got to the line about pissy sheets, I started to worry about my own bladder control.
The lights were dimmed, and Hypnos placed his fingertips gently against my temples. Almost immediately, a sense of calm whispered throughout my body and, as Morpheus’ hands slid into my hair, I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a huge stadium watching a University of Alabama football game. The air was crisp, and when I glanced beyond the gargantuan scoreboard that hovered over one end zone, I could see groves of stately, orange- and red-leafed trees in the distance. “Ah, fall,” I remarked to no one in particular. In response, the hundred-thousand fans that made up the capacity crowd chanted, “Roll Tide, Hailey,” as waves of crimson-uniformed players leapt over what looked like a twenty-foot long tampon, which was weird because I was pretty sure their mascot was an elephant.
Bama won the toss, and elected to receive. Just as the opposing squad kicked off, everyone—the fans, the players, and the giant tampon—froze in place. The aromas of concession popcorn and secreted alcoholic beverages were overwhelmed by the acrid smell of burning hair. Instead of sitting among a hoard of inebriated undergraduates, it was now just Doc and me in the section. He smiled, and the game resumed. All except for the sound—it was as if he released the pause-button on his magical-remote control, but kept the mute engaged.
“The crowd is so very distracting at these events, don’t you agree?”
I didn’t, but I couldn’t think of anything appropriate to reply, so I pretended to concentrate on the surprisingly predictable off-tackle running plays the Crimson Tide ran on three consecutive downs. We watched in silence for a while until Doc spoke again. “I’ve missed our nocturnal meetings.”
“Not meetings,” I corrected. “Ambushes. Get the hell out of my dreams.”
He wagged his index finger at me. “Now, now, Hailey. You must prefer this method of communication compared to the first time we met.” Doc’s smug smirk made my blood boil, but given the choice, I’d much rather have to put up with this than being kidnapped. “Speaking of my visits, where’s your dog tonight? I’ve had a devil of a time since he’s been sleeping with you.”
Interesting. No sniping over the safe-room-blocked invasions, just Rufus. “Don’t you like dogs?” I said off-handedly.
Doc snorted. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
There was nothing worse than a juvenile, albeit cryptic, dream defiler. That’s why I asked the question, you asstard. “Whatever. Leave me alone and leave the Courso alone.”
He paused and inclined his head slightly, as though pondering my request. “No, I think not. I rather enjoy our time together and once I conquer this dimension, we will have all the time in the world to engage in this exhilarating banter.”
Up until that point, I was fairly calm, but now my heart began to pound and little beads of sweat dotted my forehead. I shifted in my seat, hoping my movement might disguise my unease, but I couldn’t fool Doc, the observant fucker. Sensing my rising discomfort, he leaned closer and whispered, “I could crush you like an egg. I will crush everyone if my demands are not met. Only one more week,” he finished in a singsong voice.
And he was gone. The crowd resumed their normal deafening volume, and I was again surrounded by rowdy students. Not exactly sure what I should do, I stood and scooted out of the row. This caused a few people behind me to shout obscenities as I blocked their view of the halftime show, the marching band’s non-musical rendition of Sweeny Todd, where the giant tampon had morphed into a man-sized meat pie.
Making my way out of the seating area, I tried to find a way out, but all the exit ramps somehow returned me to my original spot. Frustration boiled inside me, but away from the throngs of screaming fans, I now heard dist
ant barking. Rufus! It’s a dream, Hailey. It’s a dream, I chanted to myself.
My eyes fluttered open. GPS’s wizened face hovered over mine, his boney fingers spread across my cheeks and nose, much like a sinus-congestion relieving mask but without the soothing warmth. Hypnos and Morpheus no longer touched me but were still in their original positions, staring at me with concern.
My head pounded, and my throat was dry and raw. I croaked out a raspy, “Did it work?” Before anyone could answer, a big, sloppy tongue lapped across my face. Rufus’ puppy breath instantly made me feel much better.
“Thanks for waking me up, boy.”
He wagged his entire rear end in response.
I tried to sit up—bad idea. Now, along with the crushing pain across my forehead, the extra movement made my stomach lurch. I did manage to successfully turn my head to one side. Across the room, Sebastian held Alex around his shoulders and they both looked freaked out. When they realized I was awake, Sebastian released his grip and Alex practically hurled himself toward me.
The scientists scattered to make room as Alex carefully took my hand in his and cradled it to his chest. “Are you alright?” he said finally.
“I think so, except my throat hurts and I have a bitch of a headache.” And my face is drenched in dog slobber. “Why was Sebastian grabbing you?”
The grabber-in-question approached the bed. “Alexander wanted to end the procedure. I restrained him so he would not interfere.”
Alex didn’t take his eyes off me but growled, “And if she was harmed in any way because you prevented me from doing so, you’d be a dead man.”
“Point taken. However, it appears she weathered the ordeal unscathed.”
He was right, I didn’t feel scathed at all, but something must have been disturbing enough that Alex tried to intervene. “Why did you want them to stop?”
His eyes darted between the scientists and Sebastian. “You were flailing about and screaming—the dog was in a frenzy. Tannis couldn’t contain him, and one of the guards had to drag him off the bed. Rufus almost bit the guard and Tannis. They,” he continued, lifting his chin toward Hypnos and Morpheus, “were adamant that you were fine. But it didn’t seem that way to me.”
We had discussed the ability to locate Doc depended on keeping him in my head for as long as possible, sort of like tracing a phone call back in the day. I supposed that was the reason Sebastian prevented Alex from ending the connection too soon. At least knowing I was shrieking like a banshee explained why my throat was so raw. “Yelling? Like what?”
Alex paused before answering, as though he wasn’t quite sure how much to say. “Most of it was unintelligible, but at one point you kept shouting, ‘Get out of the pocket!’ Was the Dekankaran searching you?”
I chuckled inwardly, recalling a botched play where the quarterback should have run up the middle but elected to try to find an open receiver. I didn’t remember speaking other than to Doc Martens, much less making judgments on the QB’s decision making, and I really wasn’t in the mood to describe the location in which my dream was set, so I just answered, “No, he never touched me.”
“Good. It is enough he violates your dreams.” Alex’s sneer reminded me that in spite of his gentle demeanor toward me, he was a tough SOB. In all honesty, he was a little scary right now. Fortunately, his expression soon softened, and he turned his attention to GPS. “Were you successful?”
“I am certain he is in our dimension. Beyond that, however, I cannot be more specific. He must have disengaged from her subconscious before I could get a better reading.”
Sebastian cursed under his breath. “That information is not an improvement over what we knew before.”
GPS pursed his lips. “I did the best I could, Xyzok.”
“Guys, let’s take it down a notch,” Tannis implored. The escalating testosterone levels weren’t helping my jagged nerves or my headache and even the guards seemed, well, on guard.
I carefully sat up. “Everyone tried their best, I’m no more mentally unstable than I was an hour ago, and can I please have some water? My throat feels like someone polished my tonsils with sandpaper.”
The tension in the room dissolved quickly as the male posturing gave way to attentiveness. Having a bunch of people suddenly attending to my needs wasn’t something I normally enjoyed. I wasn’t comfortable with it now, but at least it forced everyone to focus on something other than asserting their dominance. The only one that seemed immune to the whole I’m-more-macho-than-you thing was Rufus, who sat passively throughout. Then again, he was the only dog in the room, regardless of his gender. Male hormone spewage must be species-specific.
In no time at all, I had a glass of water—that no on spit all over me—and a cool compress to go with it, both of which helped me feel better. At least physically. I was still pretty bummed about not getting a more definitive location for Doc. When I suggested another attempt the next day, Alex, Sebastian, and the scientists barked out a resounding “No!” in unison. Truthfully, I wasn’t unhappy they were so against trying again—it wasn’t a pleasant experience—but if they thought it was a good idea, I’d have gone along.
Sebastian and Tannis took off to let Rexa and Wyx know how it went, while Alex, Rufus, and I retreated to our room. Someone left a deer antler found in the nearby woods for him to chew, but Rufus didn’t seem too interested. He just gave it a cursory sniff, padded off to the large cushion we provided for his bed, and laid down.
“Well, that was a complete bust,” I complained as I fell back onto the mattress.
Alex sprawled out next to me. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained I suppose. What happened while you were out?”
I explained where my dream took me, as well as the encounter with Doc. “He left kind of abruptly; maybe he knew we were trying to track him.”
Alex wrinkled his brow. “Perhaps, but if he was aware of our plan, I’d imagine he wouldn’t show up at all.”
If Doc was a normal demented freak, I’d agree with him. But he was arrogant enough to think he was smarter than everyone else was. I could definitely see him staying just short of the time needed to pinpoint his whereabouts, if for no other reason than to show that he could.
I glanced over at the now-sleeping dog in the corner. “Was Rufus barking the whole time? I only heard him at the very end of my dream, after Doc vanished.”
“Not the entire time, and not even when you first started yelling. But it’s difficult to say where that was in your dream sequence.” Alex paused and inclined his head. “Based on your description of the timeline, I’d say Rufus didn’t react to the Dekankaran’s initial appearance.”
“That’s odd. The other times it seemed he started barking as soon as Doc tried to get into my head. That makes me even more suspicious that Doc knew exactly what was going on and was just screwing with me.”
Alex rolled over on his side to face me. “Your assessment has merit, carisa, but it still doesn’t explain why Rufus didn’t bark right away.”
“And now that I think of it, Doc did ask where the dog was. So he must not have been yapping then, or Doc would have known he was there. Maybe he does have some way of eavesdropping on what we were doing. First, he gives me that stone shortly after we questioned the existence of the third dimension, now this.”
We stared at each other, silently contemplating the confusing situation. Eventually, Alex took me in his arms and whispered, “If he was aware of our plan, it pains me to think we put you in danger for nothing. You did give us quite a scare.”
“Yeah, what was with all the ‘you’re a dead man’ stuff with Sebastian? That was so un-you.”
“I probably should apologize,” he said sheepishly. “I was so worried that I let my emotions get the better of me. Rationally, I know Sebastian would never do anything to put you in danger, but you seemed so vulnerable.”
Tucking my head under his chin, I murmured, “If something had gone wrong, you wouldn’t have killed Sebastian, would you?”
“Really?” I queried as I unbuttoned his shirt. “Let’s see just how beastly you can be, Blondie.”
He tugged the collar of my blouse and playfully bit my shoulder. I wasn’t usually into that kind of thing, but for some reason—probably the fact that we hadn’t actually made love in what seemed like forever—the little nibble ramped my libido into overdrive. If there were a Guinness category for fastest clothing removal, I’d have earned the world title. Naked, I turned my attention to Alex.
“We won’t need these,” I declared as I went to work on his zipper. It took a lot longer to get him disrobed than it did myself, but when I stripped Alex wasn’t fondling my breasts. His current mammary ministrations were distracting, but somehow I managed.
Under normal circumstances, we liked to take our time and explore every inch of each other before we sought release. The long period of abstinence, plus all the tension and fear, must have combined to change that pattern. Instead, our mouths crashed together. Alex broke away and pressed me into the mattress, and began rolling my hardened nipples between his fingers. I writhed beneath his hands and when he masterfully replaced his fingers with his lips, I gasped when he gently bit. It didn’t hurt, but the sensation was almost too delicious to bear.
Snaking my legs around his, I ground myself into him, this time making him moan with pleasure. His unbridled reaction made me realize I was in no mood for additional foreplay. I rolled on top of him and straddled his hips, pausing to admire his magnificent body: sinewy, rippling muscles and handsome face, flushed with desire. Our eyes locked, and as I lowered myself upon him, I reveled in the sensation of Alex inside me, filling me, but only for a moment. I didn’t want this to be slow or gentle. I rose and fell in a frantic rhythm and when he grasped my hips in an attempt to slow the pace, it only made me want to go faster. Sensing my need, Alex relented and thrust himself into me hard and fast, until we both climaxed together.
