Riordan nodded, his chin brushing against her head. “A good plan."
Kali smiled at his sleepy tone of voice. It'd been a rough few months for them both. She was already looking forward to the pull of sleep, but had to know the girl's name first.
"What's her name?"
Calliope Martyn, whispered through her mind.
Kali jerked upright, looking down at the vampire. “What? That's my name!"
A soft snore was the only answer she received. Looking out the window, she could see the faintest streak of daylight on the horizon. Riordan's features had softened in sleep, enhancing his natural beauty.
With a resigned sigh at her Grand Master's matchmaking, even from the grave, she gave up and laid her head on Riordan's chest. The need to sleep was too strong, and she no longer had the will to resist. But when he woke up, the vampire was going to get the surprise of his life.
* * * *
Several days later, Kali snuggled against Riordan's chest, his strong arms wrapped around her, when the evening news cut to a breaking event. While she watched, the lab she had spent months working at was engulfed by flames. The anchorwoman related the sad news that premier Doctor Nelson apparently started the fire after the rest of his staff left for the evening. There was no hope of saving the doctor or the research conducted, especially given how secretive the doctor had been about what he worked on. Kali breathed a sign of relief—they were safe.
The council started the fire? she asked along their now constant mental bond.
She could hear the whisper of a sigh through his mind before he responded, Yes.
As she nodded, her head bumped against his chin, so she turned around to press a soft kiss against it. At that moment, Riordan dipped his head, and their lips pressed together.
Calliope, my sweet Kali. Passion ignited between them, racing back and forth, until they couldn't hold back any longer.
DREAM WEAVER
by
Shannon Peters
He slid his hands down her chest and over her breast. She exhaled slowly as he caressed her flesh, her heart rate picking up in pace. He nestled between her thighs as he stroked her body with his hot touch, increasing the tempo of her arousal. She arched her back against the black silken sheets, the caress of the material bringing the rest of her senses awake.
She could easily see her lover despite the darkness. Broad shoulders, smooth skin over a muscled torso, and long dark hair that swung in a curtain as he lowered his head. His large penis rose from a nest of hair between powerful thighs, his strength and size alarming and tantalizing.
She could smell incense, smoky sandalwood and sexy male. His lips touched hers in an open-mouthed kiss. He tasted of red wine and chocolate, sex and sin, as he slid his tongue inside her mouth. She groaned at his invasion, and invasion it was. He dueled and conquered, consuming her with his lips. He pulled away from her, and she gasped for breath.
He knelt at the apex of her thighs, bending over to kiss her breasts. Her breath hitched as his tongue flicked against her nipple. Her crotch grew damp, weeping for similar attention. She felt so hot as he ran his hands down the sides of her breasts and across her stomach. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure when he touched her core. Her nipples glistened from his saliva, tightening in the cool air.
His thumbs parted her sex, and he slid down to kiss her there. His tongue lapped at her entrance. She angled her hips so he could penetrate deeper. His tongue speared her, thrusting into her in a rhythm that sent her thighs trembling, and her breath gasping. She climbed the peak to orgasm, only to be pulled back from the brink as he levered himself up. He rested his cock against her entrance for a moment, his gaze meeting hers. As always, she was arrested by the brilliant green sheen, the hot stare.
"Help me,” he grated.
She nodded, unable to refuse this man anything.
Then he entered her.
She moaned as his hot length slid past her entry and pushed into her channel. She wanted to look away, close her eyes, but she was mesmerized by his stare. She couldn't blind herself to this sensation. His lips firmed as he withdrew his cock, only to push it smoothly back inside.
He slowly increased the pace, his thick length sliding inside her with ease. Her core temperature climbed higher, her cheeks flushing as he started to shaft her relentlessly. Her breasts moved with each of his thrusts, and she moaned again at the sweet hot pleasure he was giving her. She felt the impending explosion of release. Her sounds of pleasure echoed as her peak rushed towards her.
Her lover's eyes took on an exultant gleam as he recognized her readiness for orgasm, and he pounded into her with a renewed vigor.
Grace Macgregor awoke with a jolt, and sat up in bed, breathing harshly. Dear God, not again! Her hand touched the damp patch between her legs, and she smelled the musky scent of her arousal. Grace raised her trembling hand to her forehead. She'd been dreaming. Again. And her dream lover had driven her almost to orgasm. Again.
She shakily got out of bed and padded down the hallway to her kitchen. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, holding it against her forehead in an effort to cool her hot skin and calm her racing heart.
What is happening to me? She'd dreamed of this man for nearly two weeks now. Every angle, every plane of his handsome face was etched into her memory, and she'd never met him. She took a sip of water, enjoying the sensation of the cool liquid sliding down her dry throat.
Her brow wrinkled in confusion and panic. I am the master of my mind, right? She had to be. It was hard enough coping with her ‘gift', as Nanna Mac called it, she didn't need anything else messing around with her head. She was a Dream Weaver, healing those in need from her sleep state.
She didn't need a fantasy lover invading her sleep, no matter how good he was in the sack.
Arrgh, and it was so frustrating. To be brought to the brink of orgasm over and over again, without reaching fulfillment was a punishment worthy of the cruelest sadist. Sure, her dream lover had a generous spirit, and wanted her to receive pleasure at his hands, but the dream always ended at the crucial point of their lovemaking. Arrgh!
Who is he? How is he able to visit me? What does he want from me, and how the hell can I get rid of him?
Damn, he was gorgeous, though. If she'd met him in real life, she'd be overjoyed. With a lover so intent on pleasuring her body, how could she not welcome him? Unfortunately, he was turning her into a mind-numbed, sex-crazed, sleep-walking shrew. He was even affecting her work, damn it! Her boss had noticed and commented on her distraction with her job. Her dream lover was no longer content to rule her dream-filled nights, he was insistently intruding upon her daytime thoughts.
Grace glanced at the clock over the stove. Good grief. Five-forty-five a.m.! Another night's sleep interrupted. She was beginning to feel like a zombie during the day. She'd have to start getting ready for work soon. She rolled her head to the side. She couldn't help reviewing the memory of her dream in her mind's eye, replaying every movement, every action, every tantalizing glimpse of heaven. She was trained to memorize her dreams. She'd discovered the reliving of this particular dream was both a pain and a pleasure, bringing her body once again to the brink of orgasm, until she saw in her mind's eye the movement at the end of the bed as her lover entered her.
"What in blazes—” Her voice trailed off as she focused on the mental image, gasping in disbelief at the contorted features of an angry face glaring back at her. What the hell was that? What did I remember?
"It's just a vision, a memory,” she muttered to herself, desperately trying to calm her breathing. “It can't hurt me. Hell, I created the bloody thing myself!"
She cast her mind's eye back over the memory replaying in her brain. There was definitely a face, with blazing eyes and a gaping maw that exposed large, decaying teeth.
"You are one ugly mother, my friend,” she whispered as she stared at the monster. The wild eyes of the creature blinked as he faced her mind's eye. Grace shrieked
in shock, her hand flying to her mouth in fright.
"Oh, dear God, that did not just happen,” she prayed as she stepped back. The figure in her mind now remained an indistinct, immobile blur at the foot of her lover's bed.
"I'm just tired,” she muttered to herself as she hurried to get ready for work.
* * * *
"Hey, Grace, you look like hell,” Miriam hailed as Grace entered the florist's shop. Grace smiled in greeting to her friend and employer, Miriam Benning, owner of Benning's Blooms.
"Thanks, Miri,” Grace responded dryly. She stowed her bag in a low cupboard and put the kettle on before checking the order sheet for the day.
"I see we've got another ‘Secret Admirer’ delivery for Annie Fordham,” Grace commented.
Miriam laughed. “I can't wait until her neighbor finally ‘fesses up. Seriously, why do you look like you've had maybe two hours sleep in the last fortnight?"
Grace hesitated. How can I tell my best friend I'm exhausted from dream sex?
"Just a rough night,” Grace answered, leaving it at that. Miriam readily accepted her comment. Grace turned back to the kitchenette to make two cups of coffee.
"Did you see the paper this morning?” Miriam called out as she rearranged a bunch of colorful gerberas near the front door.
"No,” Grace called back absent-mindedly as she dropped a teaspoon of sugar into each mug.
"The Slasher struck last night."
"Oh, no. Not again. What's that, the fourth time?” Grace asked as she brought the mugs through to the cashier counter. The paper lay front page up with the glaring headline, Sydney Slasher Strikes Again!
"Yep, but this one has survived, sort of. She's in a coma in the hospital, but they're not giving her good odds on coming out of it."
Grace reached for the paper and quickly scanned the article. The serial killer stalking the streets of Sydney had attacked his fourth victim. Again, like in the other three cases, there were no witnesses. Each woman had been found in her bed, raped and slashed until they'd bled to death. Except for this one. She'd been found by her husband just in time. The most chilling fact was each attack had been carried out when family members were sleeping close by.
Grace shuddered. “What kind of person could do this horrendous act to a woman?” she whispered. “What kind of twisted mind could rape and kill a woman when her husband and children are sleeping close by, and then leave the body for them to discover in the morning?” She took a sip of her coffee as Miriam joined her at the counter.
"Only a sick monster would be capable of doing this,” Miriam stated as she wrapped both hands around the steaming mug.
Grace's thoughts turned to the creature in her dream, and a chill crept down her spine. Monsters walked among the living. She could testify to that. She didn't need to create one from her imagination to add to the population.
"We've got a delivery for her,” Miriam told her, and Grace looked up in surprise.
"What?"
"At least I think it's her. The newspaper doesn't mention her name, but there is a delivery for intensive care at the same hospital."
"I'll take it,” Grace offered, wondering at her compulsion to visit the woman in hospital. She hated hospitals, as visits could be exhausting. She had to bolster her protective shields to prevent all of that pain from seeping into her mind uncontrolled.
"Well, you called it, you can have it,” Miriam commented, then gestured to the order sheet. “Come on, we've got two bouquets for delivery by eight-thirty and a pick up for quarter to nine, so we'd better get to work."
* * * *
Grace stared at Patsy Kirkland, fourth victim of the Sydney Slasher. The room was pleasantly cool, the antiseptic smell harsh as the life-saving machines the woman was hooked up to blipped and blinked, recording every breath, every heartbeat, every brainwave.
Grace stepped closer to the bed and sat down in the chair next to it, surveying the woman in front of her. Every visible inch of her above the covers was bandaged, and Grace couldn't begin to guess at the extent of the woman's injuries.
Her chest rose rhythmically, aided by the breathing apparatus at the side of her bed. The woman was in a comatose state, the machines surrounding her bed maintaining her life.
Grace tentatively reached out and took gentle hold of Patsy's hand. Waves of pain and fear, with an edge of despair, washed over her. The woman's suffering must be great, if Grace could sense this from her without having to slip into a sleep state. She bit her lip. She felt driven to help this woman, to try and soothe her suffering. She checked her mental barriers, strengthening them in case of unwanted intrusion.
She laid her forehead against the woman's hand on the bed, regulating her breathing and relaxing her body. The black rush of sleep rolled over her, surprising her with the speedy and almost violent transition. Normally it took Grace a little longer to succumb to the sleep state, but the startling awareness of this time's ease slipped away from her as she flew into the depths of her subconscious.
In her mind's eye she could see a swirling pattern of colors. There were pinks, oranges, purples and blues, almost like an eddying sunset, with stars occasionally rippling through the engulfing carpet of sensation and color. She loved this moment, the beauty of the subconscious, and opened her mind up to accept the dizzying, spectacular wave.
Nudging open a gateway in her mind, she sent out and established a link with the unconscious Patsy. Immediately waves of crimson, dark purple and onyx buffeted her. The woman still believed herself to be in danger. Grace instinctively sent out soothing waves of deep blue and healthy green, which seemed to settle the woman somewhat.
Grace then sent out a warm shower of golden light, to illuminate the woman's mental core. Various corridors and doors appeared, branching off into different directions. Each compartment housed the woman's memories, emotions and faculties.
One of the doors seethed and belched, spears of red flame creeping out from under the seal. This must be where her most recent and horrific memories were stored.
Grace frowned. If the rest of the violence escaped, it would consume Patsy, and she would lose her tenuous grasp on life. Grace would have to pass through the portal and extinguish the flames in order for the woman to have any chance for survival. If she only banked the flames, the fire would one day rear its ugly head and damage Patsy all over again.
Grace took a deep breath to steady herself, and pushed at the door. It wouldn't budge. What is going on here? She'd never really encountered any resistance to her efforts before. She pushed harder, and the door roiled, as though meeting an equal force from the inside. Grace gathered her strength around her and firmly heaved against the door, careful to not break it while she gained entry. She would still need this seal to lock off the memory in the woman's mind. It took a great deal of focus and perseverance on her part. Grace grunted. Nearly, nearly—ahh, that's it. She could wedge the door open just enough to slide through the gap.
She almost screamed at the seething heat of evil she encountered. Dear God, what is this thing? She sent out a dampening wave of powerful healing, battling against the raging fires of a violent darkness equally intent on claiming the woman. Grace could feel her mind getting singed by the malevolent force. She fought back against it, trying to overwhelm it with her own gift, pouring it out of her mind and into that one little pocket in Patsy's brain where a mammoth battle raged.
Grace presented an impenetrable front as she slowly advanced into the room, making her power act as both shield and weapon against the enemy.
What in holy hell am I fighting? This was more than just an agonizing memory of a violent crime. It was as though violence was still present, trying to finish the deed. How can I defeat what I don't know?
Grace carefully flicked out tiny tendrils of rejuvenation and repair to the structure of Patsy's mind. She could only afford a small output of healing, pulling it from her defensive shield. If she siphoned out too much, the barrier would weaken, and whatever the hell she was f
ighting would consume her as well.
Patsy responded to the care immediately, and Grace could access visions and emotions the woman had suffered during her assault. Grace had to dim the memories bit by bit, softening the harsh effect of the violence done against this woman. She couldn't allow herself to feel the horror she was witnessing in the kaleidoscopic collage of images that flickered over the walls of the memory room. She could only bear mute witness to the spine-chilling event and try to blur the memory, dull the emotion.
As her patient received and accepted the flutters of healing Grace sent out, her structure strengthened. The evil then had to fight battles on all fronts. As its power weakened, Grace fed more of her healing into Patsy. It was like a ripple effect. The more positive energy Patsy received, the stronger she became, the weaker her attacker grew, and the more Grace could beat it back.
The malevolence shrank into a writhing mass in the centre of the room. It suddenly flared, taking the form of a grisly creature and distracting Grace momentarily as she recognized the beast from her dream, the one that stood over her lover. What is it? What does it want? Her heart lurched when she realized her shield had briefly weakened in her moment of recognition, leaving her perilously open to attack.
The beast threw back its head and roared in sick mirth, before winking out completely.
Grace froze, holding her position. What the hell? Where had it gone? Is the battle over? She fuelled her powers into bolstering her defenses, and then set about repairing what she could of Patsy's mind and spirit. She made sure the woman would have access to only dim recollections. Some things should never be remembered, Grace decided. At least the woman now had a chance to go forward with her life.
Satisfied that Patsy's mental health had turned for the better, and the beast had truly left her, Grace slowly and gently withdrew from the woman's mind, careful to close all seals as she did so. She experienced the falling sensation as she slowly regained consciousness, although this time the colors of transition where weaker, a little transparent around the edges. She recognized the sign of her exhaustion.
Summer Solstice Scorchers Page 13
