His cock was huge and standing ready for me. All for me.
“Come here,” he said.
I did as he said and stepped between his legs.
He lifted me with ease, and put me back over his lap as we’d been, but this time there was nothing between us. Skin to skin.
As his tongue flicked over my nipple, the tip tightened into a small bud. I grabbed his wrist and directed him where I wanted him. He traced between my slick lips with his finger and smiled up at me. I moaned as he found my clit.
His hazel gaze was playful and dark as he watched me writhe, as he watched me respond to his touch.
The contact snowballed the pleasure I felt as he moved, first softly, then firmer. It was as if he knew my body better than I did myself, anticipating my needs.
All at once, my muscles tightened and then released, and with it, any hesitation, any worry or doubt, everything was gone. There was only us, Deckard and me, only the rush of pleasure pulsing through my core.
As my nerves settled, I lowered my hips and sank down onto his tip. The stretch was good, so good. I rocked back and forth, stretching over him, taking all of him inch by inch.
Finally, we were joined completely, and I felt something I hadn’t expected—vulnerability, closeness, love.
Deckard brushed my cheek with his fingertips, I closed my eyes and held tight to him, never wanting to let go.
He kissed me deep and directed my hips, moving the two of us as one. It was good, so good, too good.
I wasn’t going to last, but I wanted to. I wanted to keep going and never stop, so we could stay here like this, forever.
My body betrayed me, building a knot that would too soon unravel. It was the perfect moment, the two of us together like this, showing our love for each other, and he thrust inside. He growled, pressing harder, deeper.
His arms tightened around me, and his teeth scraped my shoulder. It was the final push that knocked me from the ledge, the knowledge that he was falling with me.
I held tight to Deckard’s neck until both of our bodies settled, contented pleasure radiating out to my fingers, my toes.
He lowered himself back slowly onto the bed, and I came down with him. I wasn’t ready to let go, and he made no move to make me. We simply lay together. I rode the gentle rise and fall of his chest as my tired eyes flickered shut.
In a sleepy haze I woke and shuffled to the bathroom.
I turned on the faucet and cupped cold water in my hands onto my face.
I stood and toweled the water from my cheeks then glanced in the mirror.
The reflection winked and reached down into the sink. Following her gaze, I looked down. The drain jostled. I glanced back up, and instead of my reflection was him—black and green slithering flesh—Snakeman.
I closed my eyes and turned.
Dream—this was a dream.
I opened my eyes, imagined being with Deckard, and touched the wall. It rippled and I knew it would lead me to him.
Still, I didn’t expect what I saw when the wall gave way.
He was dreaming of my bedroom, of the two of us in my bed. My belly was swollen like a beach ball, and sleeping on the bed between us was a small child, a girl with hair just like mine.
It was the first time I’d come into his dream and felt like I was intruding, like this fantasy was something precious that I wasn’t supposed to see.
Had our night meant as much to him as it had me? I was standing in front of the evidence that it did, and still it was hard to believe. He imagined having a family with me. A family.
Maybe I should have left, but I just stood there staring.
Deckard’s eyes flicked open, and when he looked at me, I felt a rush of heat wash over me—and not the sexy kind.
“Hey,” I said.
He sat up and raked his fingers over his head.
He looked beside him, touched Fake Me’s shoulder and smiled. Then his head slowly turned, and he met my gaze. His hazel eyes were glossed, confused.
The other me, the dream me, disappeared. And so did our daughter. The craziest part, I wished they hadn’t.
“Valerie?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Non-dream me.”
He climbed out of bed, picked up his t-shirt from the floor, and pulled it over his head.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” I said.
“Don’t be.” He crossed the room and touched my cheek. I leaned into his palm.
There was a conversation we needed to have. One about feelings and babies. One I was not ready to have right now.
“I thought we’d go to Roger first,” I said.
“Sure.”
The bedroom wall rippled, and we stepped through.
The room we entered was familiar—shelves of books, cherrywood table and matching chairs—we were in the pack archives.
Ms. Albright was there, standing in front of one of the shelves, tearing books from their places and tossing them on the floor.
I had to talk to her. I took a step forward, and Deckard grabbed my wrist.
“Just watch,” he said, his gaze set across the room.
Sure enough, there was Roger. He was looking in from the back door, and concern marred his brow. Maybe if I could talk to Ms. Albright...but it wasn’t really her. This was just a dream.
Roger stormed into the basement, leaving the door open.
“Hey, what are you doing?” He grabbed Ms. Albright’s arm.
She didn’t even turn to look at him as she shoved her palm into his chest.
He flew backward, and slammed into the next shelf over.
He roared and ran toward her, and this time he tackled her to the ground. He pulled her hands behind her back and handcuffs appeared out of nowhere on her wrists. Her face contorted into something grotesque—exaggerated lines, and long, sharp teeth sticking out of the huge hole where her mouth had been. She hissed like some sort of monster, and any warm feeling I had for her melted away. She wasn’t Ms. Albright at all.
My father appeared from nowhere. He stood over the two.
“Great work, Roger. You stopped this horrible monster from her nefarious plans. Come, let us celebrate with a feast in your honor.”
Roger rose to his feet. “That sounds great, thanks!”
The two of them walked upstairs, Dad’s arm over Roger’s shoulder.
I looked to Deckard.
He nodded. “Okay, I admit, Roger is unlikely to be our witch.”
“Just unlikely?” I raised a brow and looked over his stoic face.
“Very unlikely?” he asked.
I shook my head. “You’re not certain?”
“Of course not,” he said. “We still don’t have the witch pegged. I can’t be certain until he or she is caught.”
“Okay,” I said. It made sense, kind of. I understood where he was coming from, but I wished he felt the same certainty I did. Roger was not the witch. “Ready to look for the tome?”
“Yes.”
I took Deckard’s hand and stepped through the boundary between dreams. This time, the dream we entered belonged to my father.
This was where my mother had said to go. Liber Somnia was here somewhere, and we were going to find it.
Dad was sitting on the stone bench in Mom’s tulip garden, surrounded by vibrant blooms.
The sky was dark, and he was hunched over, elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands.
I approached, careful not to step on the flowers.
“Dad?”
He looked up.
“What are you doing here? This is...”
I knew it was him, but he also looked so different—younger. He looked like he had when I was little, his eyes a bit brighter, fewer wrinkles, less sad. He put his head in his hands and seemed to forget that I was there.
“It’s a dream,” I said. “Your dream. And we’re here looking for something.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Is it really...is it really you? Valerie?”
�
�Yes.”
A smile crossed his face as he met my gaze. “You’re like her, aren’t you? Like your mother.”
“A dream witch, yes,” I said. “But I’m still figuring everything out.”
“She’d be so proud of you, of the woman you’ve become.”
He’d never said anything like that to me. Maybe here, in the dream world, he didn’t filter his words the same way he did in life. Maybe here, we could really talk.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said. “All I want is for you to be safe.”
“I know, and I will. I promise.”
“I was hoping she would come,” he said. “Every night I wait for her to return, so we can dream together like we used to. Sometimes I imagine her, but I know it’s not really her. All I can manage is a copy.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“You used to dream together?” Deckard stepped up beside me.
“As the two of you are doing right now,” Dad said. “She used to show me the world, and beyond. Every night I’ll wait for her. I’ll never stop.”
I wished she could come back, wished she could be here, with him. I wished I could see her again, too.
That’s when I remembered the white orb.
“I saw her,” I said. “The real Mom.”
Dad’s attention snapped to me. There was hope in his eyes, something I wasn’t used to seeing. That hope felt fragile, fleeting.
“I found an orb.” I reached into my pocket, but it wasn’t there. “When I held it, I saw her.”
“What did she say?”
“She said to find you in the land of dreams, that you have Liber Somnia, here.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t...I don’t remember having it.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Let’s start with something you do remember. Did you used to have a favorite place to go together? Or was there somewhere special the two of you spent a lot of time when you shared dreams?”
“The waterfall.” Uncertainty was overtaken by resolve. He sat straighter and spoke with a firmer tone, the one I was used to, the voice of the alpha. “It’s where we first met.”
He rose from his seat and walked deeper into the dark woods.
Deckard and I followed.
Dreams were tricky. I knew there was no waterfall in the woods behind the pack house. I’d lived there my whole life, but just because something didn’t exist in reality didn’t mean it couldn’t exist here.
The sound of rushing, splashing water came before the dark forest ended. But then the trees stopped, all at once. The light here was different, too. It was brighter, warmer, like midday spring. There was an open field and gently swaying grass of yellowish green, though there was no wind to move it. The waterfall ahead was crystal clear as it fell from the cliff above, and the pool below was the kind of blue that belonged only in the tropics.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“It’s hers,” Dad replied. “Your mother’s.”
I took off my shoes and stepped into the edge of the water. It was warm, and the soft bank squished between my toes.
There it was, the tome. It appeared in front of me, in the water, even though it hadn’t been there before. Maybe it had been waiting for me all along.
I knelt down and reached into the water for it.
Power emanated from the cover. I could feel it, and the excitement I’d felt mixed with fear.
But I was supposed to have this. Mom wanted me to take the book.
I lifted it from the stream. It felt hot and charged in my hands, like a lightbulb.
And the world went black. I blinked hard, searching for light.
The air burned, like black smoke, and something slick slithered up my legs.
I was frozen. I couldn’t move.
“Deckard!” I held the book tight and prayed for help.
Chapter Twelve
Deckard
I rolled over onto my side and opened my eyes. Valerie lay beside me, and we were still in her bed.
My heart was racing, and it took a moment for me to remember why. The dream...the smoke...the snakes.
I sat up and gently shook Valerie’s shoulder.
“Wake up.”
A shadow moved in the room. I turned.
A dark form growled and dove into the bed. My first instinct was to shift, but I recognized his scent and refused the urge.
It was Valerie’s father.
He tore off the blanket, and I rose from the bed.
“What are you doing?” I touched his shoulder and he threw his fist at me.
I sidestepped and got a good look at his face. His eyes were black—he was a slave to a black orb, but how?
I jumped onto this back and pulled him away from Valerie. She stirred on the bed and screamed when she opened her eyes.
I wrestled Mr. Carlisle to the mattress, and still he squirmed.
“What the hell?” Valerie looked back and forth between us.
“Pockets—check his pockets,” I said.
She grabbed the sheets and wrapped them around herself, then did as I said and shrugged. “Nothing.”
“What the hell is going on, Dad?”
He didn’t speak, but seethed and fought.
“It has to be somewhere,” I said, wishing I had on some damned pants. “We have to find the black orb.”
“I’m telling you there isn’t one,” Valerie said.
“Fine. Get me something to bind him.”
She hopped from the bed and came back with a rope.
I raised a brow.
“What?” she asked. “A girl can keep shifter-proof magic rope in her dresser if she wants.”
“Of course she can,” I said, as I struggled to keep her father still.
She kneeled on the bed next to me and wound the rope around her father’s wrists, then tied it off expertly.
“I’m the only child of a super macho alpha wolf.” She crossed her arms. “Seriously, there’s all the makings of a boy scout ingrained in me.”
I smiled. “I’m not judging.”
She nodded. “Okay, so what happened? And where’s the orb?”
“I don’t know.”
Mr. Carlisle struggled against his bindings, his attention set not on either of us, but on the bed.
Inches away from his head was a giant black book. Not just a book, the book—the one from the dream—Liber Somnia.
“Valerie, is that…”
She picked up the tome and her father writhed, his attention set on the object.
“Yeah.” She took a step back from her father and held the book to her chest.
“How? How is it here?”
“I think...I think I brought it with me. Mom said that it could bring things from dreams into reality, from reality to dreams. I think it did that to itself...no, I know it did, or I did.”
If the book could be used to make dreams real, it made sense that others would seek it. Did the witch know we had it through the eyes of Mr. Carlisle? I hoped not.
He stopped struggling, so I took the opportunity to grabbed my boxers and slipped them on one-handed.
“Where can we put him?” I asked.
“Put him? We can’t just put him somewhere, he’s my dad.”
“While we figure out what to do, we have to do something with him. What about the cellar?”
“The cellar where we left Joey?”
“Yes.”
“We can’t leave them in there together,” she said. “Can we?”
“If your father is here, no one is guarding the shed. I say we check on Wafflick, then decide what to do when we get there.” It was the best I could come up with. Maybe we’d just have to tie them both up on opposite sides of the cellar. “Bring all the magic rope you have.”
“Okay.”
We dressed and went outside. Mr. Carlisle went willingly, so long as Valerie, while holding the tome, walked in front.
Before we reached the cellar, I could hear Wafflick on the ot
her side of the door.
“Helloooooo, anyone out there? I seem to be stuck in here. Anyone? Helloooooooo.”
“Wafflick?” I knocked on the door.
“Deck? Is that you?” I twisted the key hanging from the lock, and opened the door.
“Hey, buddy.” Wafflick threw his arms around me, and I made a conscious effort not to flinch.
“Hi.”
“Whoa, what happened to him?” Wafflick pulled back and stared wide-eyed at Mr. Carlisle. “Wait…”
“He was watching you,” I said.
“Yeah, that sounds right. I think I remember something. It was like sleeping, walking around doing things and not being in control of my body. So weird. Anyway, it started when I was eating that candy, and then—”
“What candy?” Valerie asked.
“You know, the free candy from the coffee bar.”
“The witch place?” Her brows shot up and she tilted her head.
“Yep, that’s the one. Anyway, I started feeling weird sometime after that, and I’m pretty sure I remember when I was sleepwalking, I gave your dad some candy. And by gave, I mean force-fed. But how bad could it be? It’s candy, after all.”
“The orb must be inside of him,” Valerie said. Her eyes were wide, and her sweet scent was filled with fear.
“You.” I pointed at Wafflick. “Get out.”
“Okay.” He did as he was bid and walked outside.
“So how do we get it out of him?” Valerie asked.
“You don’t.” The voice that answered was one I didn’t recognize, though it passed through Mr. Carlisle’s lips.
“Dad?” Valerie took a step closer, and her father jerked against his bounds to try to reach her.
She stepped back.
“Your father belongs to me, Buttercup,” he said.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“She knows.”
I looked to Valerie. She shook her head.
“I know you both, even if you don’t remember me. You know what I’m capable of.” He looked to Valerie. “It was me who trapped your mother, leaving her body to perish. I wouldn’t have had to if she’d just given me the book. Instead she banished me, her own brother. She chose her fate, and yours.”
I Dream of Grizzly: A Werebear Shifter and Witch Romance (The Protectors Quick Bites Book 2) Page 8
