Edge of Dreams

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Twenty-seven? It hadn’t felt like that long. I wrinkled my nose. “That doesn’t seem so bad.”

  Price’s arms tightened convulsively. “Much longer, and your body would have quit on you. You’d almost stopped breathing.”

  Oh. That was bad. Yes, I’m really good with the obvious. “Sorry,” I muttered, because I didn’t know what else to say.

  His chest jerked at he laughed. A harsh bark. “Wasn’t your fault.”

  “You won’t say that when I tell you everything,” I muttered. He has bat ears.

  “What?” He pushed my head up so that he could look at me. His black brows slashed together, and his eyes blazed. “What did you do?”

  “I got a little bit kidnapped.” I hunched into myself, waiting for him to explode.

  He only gave a restrained scowl. “Yes, Leo mentioned that.”

  Speaking of Leo, he stood at the foot of the bed, staring at me, arms folded, face forbidding. He saw me looking back at him and flicked a glance at Price, lifting his brows meaningfully.

  Oh. Right. That. If Price having kissed me didn’t clue him in, me snuggling up to the man no doubt demonstrated my woeful lack of self-preservation. I gave a weak smile. “I take it the two of you have met?”

  The two men exchanged a smoky look.

  “We did,” Leo said, his upper lip curling. “Once his brother took the gun out of my face.”

  Oops. I’d forgotten. I grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” His grin promised that I would be getting an earful. He looked again at Price. “It seems you left one or two things out when you told me about your adventures to recover Josh.”

  “That’s because my love life is none of your business.”

  “Love life?”

  “Price is—” What? My boyfriend? That sounded like I was about fourteen. Lover? I wasn’t ready to announce that. “He’s my date for dinner at Mel’s.” That should pretty much get the point across. I’d never, ever, taken a date to Mel’s.

  Leo blinked, and then his expression fractured into merriment. He laughed long enough to be irritating. Finally, he wiped the corners of his eyes. “This is going to be the best dinner ever. I can hardly wait.”

  I scowled. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

  “Of course not,” Leo said. “The sacrificial lamb never does.”

  Before I could answer, someone knocked on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Touray strode in carrying a mug. Soup. It smelled heavenly. He handed it to me. I fumbled it, and Price took it from me.

  “You’ll need calories to recover, and sleep. Your body’s been healed, but a tinker can’t do anything about the backlash from a body/soul separation. Because you were split for so long, it will take a few days to recuperate. You’ll be dizzy and tired and your muscles will be rubber,” Touray said as Price held the cup to my lips.

  Chicken noodle soup. Luckily, it was only lukewarm, because I put my hands over Price’s and gulped it down in three swallows. It was possibly the best thing I’d ever tasted in my life. Warmth ran down my throat to my belly and leached out into the rest of me. I licked my lips. “More?” I asked plaintively.

  Touray made an exasperated sound and snatched the cup back. He marched out without a word.

  Price chuckled, his chest rumbling. “He’ll regret serving you when he finds out how much you can eat.”

  I smiled, grateful for a joke to lighten the mood. “He will, won’t he?”

  Touray seemed to have learned a lesson, though, because this time he returned with the mug and an insulated pitcher full to the brim. Under his arm was a roll of whole-grain crackers flavored with herbs. He set them down on marble-topped nightstand beside my bed. He poured some soup and held out the mug, then watched me drink.

  His eyes were hooded, and I could almost hear his brain whirling with questions and no little fury. I’d endangered myself, and he wasn’t at all happy about it. To him I was an irreplaceable commodity. Then someone had stolen me in dreamspace, and when I get back, out of the blue I tell him I don’t think he murdered my mom. He probably wanted to wring me like a sponge to get answers.

  Price, on the other hand, was going to flip out when he found out that Percy had burned me with cigarettes and fumigated me. Stir in the fact that he was harvesting innocent people for Sparkle Dust—I could imagine Price storming into the mountain to take Percy down all by himself and damn everything else. Touray wasn’t exactly a cool head, but he seemed to be far more calculating than emotional. Hopefully, he could help rein his brother in from a suicide mission.

  While everybody watched me, I drank three more mugs of soup and ate half a sleeve of the crackers. When I was done, I could feel energy sparking back into my body, and my head wasn’t so foggy.

  Price took the mug and set it down on the nightstand, then settled me back down on the pillows.

  “I’ll leave you alone to rest, then,” Touray said and headed for the door. Leo hesitated. I waved at him, and he nodded, then followed.

  I squirmed into a more comfortable position against the pillows. That’s when I noticed I was wearing one of Price’s shirts and some lacy underwear I didn’t recognize. I scowled. “Please tell me you did not dress me in underwear that your girlfriend left behind on her last sleepover.”

  Just the thought of Price wanting someone else made my heart cramp. I fisted my hands on the feather comforter he pulled over me.

  “What girlfriend?”

  “You tell me.”

  He glared at me. “For your information, that underwear came out of a package. I sent someone to get it. I figured you’d want something clean if . . . when you woke up.”

  On the last, his voice ground to a halt in gravel. I stared at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, averting my eyes and hunching down into myself.

  “You’re damned right you are,” he said. He stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, feet braced.

  He didn’t say anything else, just stared down at me, his upper lip curled, the lines of his body taut. His jaw knotted. After a long minute of that, I started to twitch.

  “Well? Are you just going to stand there?”

  “You’re right. I’ve been awake since we hauled your corpse in here. I need some sleep.” He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

  I struggled to sit up. Lethargy weighted me down like stones in a pond, but his walking out on me hit me like a cattle prod to the ass. “Alone?”

  “I sure as hell won’t be curling up with the imaginary girlfriend you’ve got me playing house with.”

  He was punch-the-wall pissed. I tried not to smile and totally failed. I probably looked like the cat that ate the canary.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  He stalked back to the bed, looming over me, and while I’m sure he meant to be intimidating, I was delighted by his outburst. But pushing pins into him wouldn’t get me what I wanted.

  “I apologize. I was jealous,” I confessed, my cheeks flushing. It was still so very hard to admit my feelings to him.

  The bed sank as he knelt beside me and caught my face between his hands. He tipped my head so that he could look into my eyes. His had darkened, glittering like moonlit waves. In their depths, I could see the tangled currents of his hard-held emotions.

  “If I had, for even a single inconceivable second, thought that I wasn’t in love with you anymore, nearly losing you again—” He broke off, clenching his jaw until I could hear his teeth grinding together. A shadow rippled across his face. His grip tightened, and he pulled me closer until his forehead pressed against mine. “If you’d died, it would have been the end of me,” he whispered raggedly.

  His words stabbed me through the heart. Tears burned in my eyes, and my throat knotted.

 
His chest bellowed as he sucked in a harsh breath. “I’m done waiting, Riley. I’m done letting you walk around like you’re safe out there. You need a keeper. Fuck that, you need to be kept. You’re mine. I’ll help you do whatever you need to do, but I won’t be cut out of your life again. Do you understand?”

  I licked my lips, my heart pounding. What a Neanderthal. Yet I loved every word, the desperate catch in his voice, the way his hands shook even as he handed down his imperial orders. His whole body was braced, like a fighter waiting for the first punch. It was the fighter image that jarred something loose within me. In my life, the two most important people, my mother and my father, had left me. And it meant something to me that Price would be willing to fight like hell to stay in my life. I believed him, and that made another brick in my protective walls go tumbling down.

  I toyed with the edge of the comforter. “I can’t tell. Does that mean you’re still going to go pout by yourself? Or that you’re planning to stay here with me?” I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. Yeah, I was flirting. Not all that well, and Price only glowered harder at me, his mouth tightening into a thin, white line. He said nothing.

  “I did ask you out on a date,” I pointed out. The circumstances of that text came rushing back to me. “You know, you’ve got balls calling me out on getting into trouble. You haven’t exactly been Mr. Safety. You nearly got blown up. At your brother’s house, which was supposed to be so impregnable. Hell, should I be worried there’s TNT in the toilet? C-4 in my shoes?” I managed to sit up straight by bracing my hands on either side of myself and shoving forward. “Don’t go getting all high and mighty and calling my kettle black, Mr. Pot. You’ve been no safer than I have.”

  “You texted me for a date,” he said, as if that was the only thing that mattered. “You can call for a pizza delivery, but you can’t be bothered to actually call me.”

  I flopped back onto the pillows again. My eyelids were getting heavy. “Sorry. Next time I’ll have my secretary call yours. We’ll do lunch.” I couldn’t summon the sarcasm the last line needed, but hopefully he got the point. I burrowed farther down under the covers and heaved a sigh. A real bed. Soft and oh, so comfortable.

  The covers drew back, and a rush of air chilled my back and legs. I murmured a protest. The mattress sank, and Price snuggled up behind me, wrapping a hard arm around my ribs and draping his thigh over mine. He pulled the covers back up around us.

  “We are not done with this conversation,” he said.

  I laced my fingers through his as he wriggled his right arm under me and pulled me tight against his chest.

  “Yeah, we are,” I said.

  “Not a chance, Riley. We’re having it out.”

  I smiled as I felt myself sinking into sleep. I yawned hard, my jaw cracking. It took all the effort I could muster to have the last word. “I know,” I said, loosening my fingers from his and patting his hand. “But when you find out the rest of the story, you’ll be far too pissed to come back to this.” Whatever this was. I wasn’t entirely clear.

  He might have said something else, but I didn’t hear. I’d already fallen asleep.

  Chapter 12

  What woke me was a combination of the need to pee and my skin’s prickling awareness of Price curled around me. I’d been too tired to get turned on before, but all of a sudden, heat pooled in my stomach, and my breasts ached with the need to have Price touching them. To have him lick and suck and—

  I groaned. Talk about bad timing. What was my body thinking, anyway? I’d been tortured, imprisoned, and then separated from my body. You’d think sex would be the last thing I wanted.

  Deciding a cold shower was in order, I edged toward the side of the bed. Sex wasn’t on the agenda. Even if Price wasn’t still pissed, there was always the issue of Percy and Madison’s family. Indulging my libido would be selfish. Not to mention I didn’t know when Leo or Touray would bust in to wake us up. That thought doused my desire better than any shower. I did not need either of our brothers critiquing our performance.

  I’d almost made good my escape to the shower, when Price woke up.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, pulling me onto my back and lifting himself over me.

  His hips still rested on the bed, but he caged me between his arms, his chest brushing against mine. My nipples hardened into peaks. I clenched my thighs together as an ache burst to throbbing life between them. Price’s eyes were sleepy, his hair tousled. I’ve never seen a more beautiful man. I reached up and smoothed the long locks out of his face. They fell back down. He twisted his head and pressed a kiss into the palm of my hand. His tongue flicked my skin, and my whole body reacted. Tingling swarms ran over me in waves. I pulled my hand away and balled it into a fist.

  “You shouldn’t,” I gasped.

  “Shouldn’t what?” he asked with a pirate smile. He bent to nibble down along the side of my neck.

  I made a whimpering sound and arched my back, twisting my head to give him access. He chuckled and nipped me, then lifted his head.

  “Something bothering you?” He nibbled down the other side of my neck, then across my throat and down. The scrape of his beard stubble sent chills down to my toes. I curled them tight as I put my hands on his shoulders and gripped his shirt in my fists.

  “I thought you were mad at me,” I said breathlessly. How could I feel this good with just a few kisses? And after a near-death experience? Another one, that is. Was I insane?

  Apparently so, because instead of pushing him away, I tried to pull him closer. He didn’t budge, but neither did he stop kissing me. His tongue slipped down into the cleft between my breasts, and I shuddered. He laughed again. Fucker. He liked torturing me. I liked it, too. So, so, so very much.

  He licked between my breasts again. “I am mad,” he said huskily. “You have no idea. But given the choice between having my guts tied in knots and my head shooting off like a rocket versus this”—he paused to nibble up my neck—“I decided to enjoy myself a little.”

  “Logical,” I said. Gasped really. With some squirming and maybe some panting. Definitely panting.

  As much as I wanted to take this further, nature wouldn’t wait. My bladder was about to explode. I grimaced. “Can you hold that thought? I really have to go use the bathroom.”

  He bent and gave a quick, hot suck on my right breast, then flopped away onto his back. I lay there, my head spinning with the rush of sensation from that one small caress.

  He lifted back up on his elbow, looking down at me. “Well?”

  “I’m not sure I can move.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t wet the bed.” He nudged my hip with his knee. “Get your ass up.”

  I rolled over and sat up, swinging my feet to the floor. I looked back at him. “Touray says I need sleep, but I’ve got a feeling unless I go home, I’m not getting any. Not with you around.” I leered at him. The way he made me feel, I didn’t want rest. In fact, I was pretty sure that a little attention from Doctor Price was all I needed to feel better than new. A wash of heat swept over me as my imagination took that thought in all its possible directions at one time. I fled to the bathroom before I went up in smoke.

  Once inside, I eyed the shower longingly, then decided Price wasn’t going to wait for me to get clean. On the other hand, I could see if he wanted a shower . . . I shivered. We could have both the bed and the shower.

  I used the toilet and washed my hands and face, then examined myself in the mirror. Aside from the orangey-red rat’s nest my hair had become, I didn’t look that bad. All my wounds had been healed while I was zonked out. At least I didn’t look scary, though my teeth were a little furry and my breath was probably rank.

  My stomach growled. I glanced down at it and noticed the exhausted amethyst heal-all pendant still hanging around my neck. I jerked it over my head and dropped it into
the trash. Empty of its magic, it was now only a pretty necklace. As grateful as I was for its healing, it was a reminder that I’d let potential enemies get too close to me, and far too close to the people I cared about.

  I didn’t want to leave Price waiting any longer, so I rinsed my mouth out with a cup on the sink and returned to the bedroom. Only he wasn’t on the bed. He’d changed his shirt and pants and was buckling his belt. He’d put on a black cashmere polo shirt and black jeans, both of which clung to his body like a second skin. My fingers itched to trace the ridges and planes of his muscles. I sighed quietly and leaned against the bathroom doorjamb, watching him. If I’d known my going to the bathroom would screw the mood, I’d have risked wetting the bed.

  He moved like a hunting cat, lithe and powerful. He pulled open the bottom drawer of the highboy cherry dresser beside the closet and lifted out a shoulder holster. He strapped it on and picked his gun up off the end of the bed. He must have had it under the pillows. He checked to make sure a bullet was chambered and the magazine was full. Because apparently the tooth fairy steals bullets when she find guns instead of teeth under the pillows.

  After he was done getting dressed, he turned to look at me. My heart iced. His face was a blank mask, but his eyes seethed.

  “I guess you decided to go with having your head shooting off like a rocket,” I noted when his imitation of a museum statue started to get on my nerves. “You may as well lay it out for me. I don’t read minds and while I know full well why you’re going to be pissed at me, don’t know what your damage is right now.”

  His brows rose. “You don’t know,” he repeated slowly.

  “That’s right.”

  He made a sound of disgust and shook his head. “You fucking-well should know, after that comment you made.”

  I scrambled to remember what I said when I got up. Something about him not letting me rest. I so didn’t see what the problem was. “Enlighten me.”