Faded Realms

by C. R. Jane

  Groaning, I manage a mumbled, “Yes.”

  “Then I’m about to make your dreams come true, my love,” he says, and he erases any other thoughts from my mind.

  Later on, after we’re both spent again, I listen to the steadying sound of his breath for hours until I finally fall into a tortured sleep, images of Aiden and a beautiful golden-skinned, tattooed angel haunting my dreams.

  I wake to bright sunshine streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows that lead out to the balcony. A drumbeat of pain in my temple reminds me of the large amount of champagne we both drank the night before. And then I shift to find a more comfortable position and the dull ache between my legs reminds me of what else happened. Mason and I made love, and I loved every second of it.

  He's asleep next to me, the hard, perfect angles of his face softened in repose. His jaw is sprinkled with whiskers that only add to his over the top sexiness. He’s so beautiful, inside and out, and I’m completely addicted to him. Watching him, I can’t help but reflect on my morning after with Beckham. The men are so different that it would be impossible to compare, but with each of them it felt like I was finding something I had lost. Like segments of my soul had been scattered throughout the eternities, somehow ending up with Beckham and Mason. I wasn’t sure how I had been lucky enough to recover them. I wondered if all love felt like this, so all-consuming and fulfilling. Somehow, I doubted that it did.

  Mason’s hand floats across my skin, moving up to cup my breast. That’s all it takes to make me want him again, despite the soreness. I’m sure that it will magically heal.

  “You’re awake,” he whispers.

  “Mmm, barely. My head is spinning a bit this morning.”

  “I know something that will make us both feel better,” says Mason in a heated voice. He slides into me from behind, making slow and languid strokes as he whispers how much he loves me. Although the horror of the night’s dreams is still present, in the aftermath of our love making, everything seems alright.

  We enjoy a breakfast of strawberries and cream and chocolate croissants before packing to get ready to fly home. I hear Mason’s phone going off repeatedly on the table where he left it. When I pick it up, Damon’s name catches my attention. There’s a myriad of texts all wondering when he’s bringing me home. A flood of warmth passes over me. He may not be really talking to me, but at least I know he still cares.

  “We’ll come back here soon,” Mason says, kissing my shoulder as he watches me cast one more longing gaze at the suite that will always hold a special place in my heart. I smile at him, loving how he always knows what to say to lift my mood. It feels like we’re about to step out of a sanctuary, and I fear what the world holds in store for us.

  We go down the elevator and I yelp when Mason pulls me towards him suddenly, crushing his lips against mine. I’m left winded and flustered as we step out of the elevator. I’m looking up at him with a wide grin when all of a sudden, I feel a shooting, stabbing pain in my left rib cage. I halt, looking around wildly when I see Courtney standing in front of me, holding onto a long butcher’s knife that she has just pulled out of my body. She’s wearing a maniacal, triumphant grin and I’m in so much shock that I can’t even move. When she pulls out the knife and goes to lodge it in me again, Mason springs into action, knocking her to the ground while the security team pounces on her. Her cries are muffled with the strange buzzing sound that is suddenly clogging my senses.

  I look at my hand that’s covered in blood and I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. Mason is trying to apply pressure to my wound that is currently gushing blood. It splatters around me, staining the marble floor of the lobby. I can faintly hear people in the lobby screaming for help, and Mason hollering for someone to call 911, but it’s like I’m existing outside my body. The world starts to fade and I feel myself crumble to the ground. I’m caught by Mason right before the world goes black.

  “What am I going to do with you?” comes Aiden’s voice, and I feel his fingers dance across the delicate skin on my stomach.

  I open my eyes and find myself lounging on a giant bed covered with luxurious silks and fur. Aiden is on his side facing me, an amused look on his face.

  “What?” I say in a daze, confused at first of where I am.

  “I asked, what am I going to do with you?” he says again, continuing to stroke my stomach. It reminds me that I was just stabbed and I sit up, expecting buckets of blood and a stab wound to be visible. My skin is perfect however and I feel up and down my ribcage, trying to find any sign of the wound that I know I just received.

  “Looking for something?” he asks with a smirk.

  “I’m a quick healer, but I’m not that quick,” I tell him distractedly, still trying to find where I was stabbed.

  “You still have your wound, but this is my dream after all. I’m not going to have you bleeding all over the sheets when we could be doing something much more fun in them,” he says, reaching out to touch me again.

  Regaining my wits, I scramble away from him. He stops moving towards me, watching me closely with his knowing eyes.

  “She really had good knife placement,” he says casually, laying back down on the bed with his arms cradling his head. “But she hurt the wrong person.”

  “I’m pretty sure she stabbed the person she was intending,” I tell him, looking around the room. There’s nothing but black walls surrounding the elegant decadent bed we’re in, and I begin to feel claustrophobic.

  “It wasn’t the person I was intending,” he says blandly.

  “Did you have something to do with this?” I ask, not understanding why I sound so horrified or surprised at the thought.

  “She had the intent. All I needed to do was push her along. She was angry at you, but she was heartbroken over Mason. Heartbreak can make you do crazy things,” he says knowingly, throwing me a wink. “I’ll admit, she wasn’t the greatest pawn, but it was worth a try,” he says, as if I hadn’t just passed out from blood loss.

  I begin to hear a beeping sound from far away and he sighs, annoyed. “Our time here is up,” he says. “But let this be a lesson to you, I’m always watching you, and next time, the knife won’t miss Mason.”

  I wake to a blinding light and the same steady beeping sound as in my dream. I groan and throw my hand wearily across my face, trying to block the light. I hear the sound of frantic footsteps and then the light is dimmed enough for me to attempt to open my eyes. I blink my eyes, trying to wake myself up and figure out where I am.

  “Eva,” comes a comforting voice and I see the blurry image of someone who couldn’t be anyone other than Beckham judging by the golden glow of the figure. My eyelids seem to weigh a ton and I have to force myself to keep them open. Beckham looks terrible. His golden hair is standing on end and his eyes are wild, as if he’s been awake for days.

  “You were dreaming,” he says, wiping tears from my face. He kisses my forehead and both cheeks. “Do you think you can drink some water?”

  I’m desperately thirsty, so I nod. Just that small movement sets off a painful blast in my skull that has me gasping. He brings me a glass of ice water with a straw that he holds for me. The cold water is like heaven to my parched throat, but it lands with a gurgle in my empty stomach.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I ask him.

  “You were stabbed by a poison tipped knife,” he answers, anger woven in his voice.

  Suddenly, my dream comes rushing back to me. “Mason,” I call, trying to sit up and pulling out my IV in the process. Beckham rushes to lay me back down but I’m desperate. “Mason!” I call again, panicking when he doesn’t appear.

  “Shhh,” Beckham says, stroking my hair and trying to calm me down. “He’s just getting a coffee. Neither of us has eaten in a while,” he says.

  “He’s alright?” I ask, my head and my ribs aching. I look down and see that I’m dressed in a sports bra with a large bandage covering my whole left side.

  “He’ll be back soon,” Beckh
am says. He looks a little hurt and I realize that my panic over not seeing Mason probably seemed extreme since Beckham obviously flew across the ocean to make sure that I was okay.

  “You’ve been totally out of it for three days,” Beckham says tiredly.

  “Three days.”

  “Three very long days.”

  “Have you slept at all?”

  “Not much. I was too freaked out to sleep. When Mason called me, I got on the first flight I could get. I’m to the point where I don’t think I can let you leave my sight if it means you will get kidnapped or stabbed by a psycho every time you do.”

  I want to reach up to touch his tired face, but my arms won’t cooperate. “I’m sorry.”

  “Angel, don’t apologize. I just was so scared that something was seriously wrong with you when you didn’t wake up. The doctors said you had made a miraculous recovery, but you weren’t responding. I was afraid to sleep, that I would wake up and you’d be… Well, I was scared.”

  I pat the small space next to me in the hospital bed. “I know I probably don’t smell great, but will you please get in bed with me and hold me?”

  “I’d be very happy to do that.” He gently gets into the bed and lays down next to me. His arms around me are exactly what I need. With my head cushioned on his arm and the heat of his body warming me, I begin to feel the slightest bit better.

  Mason comes through the doorway carrying two cups of coffee. He freezes when he sees Beckham spooning me in the bed. A moment of uncomfortableness crosses his face, but he schools his features until they’re unreadable once again before walking towards us.

  “You’re awake,” he says, flashing me a sad, relieved smile.

  “This isn’t your fault,” I tell him, sensing his feeling of guilt from across the room.

  “Who else’s fault is it, Eva?” he asks quietly.

  Beckham strokes my arm from behind me and I relax back into him, too exhausted to worry about Mason’s feelings on Beckham touching me. “It was Aiden’s.”

  Beckham and Mason both freeze. Mason clenches his fists, looking like he’s about to tear someone’s head off.

  “What does Aiden have to do with this?” asks Mason.

  “He manipulated her in some way. But she messed up. Her intended target was supposed to be you,” I tell him, my voice breaking as the fear from what could have been sinks into me.

  “How do you know this?” Beckham asks, his fingers gripping my arm a little too tightly from how tense he has gotten.

  “He was in my dream. He wasn’t something I dreamed about, he was actually manipulating and controlling the dream, probably somewhat like he did in China.”

  Thinking about it makes me feel even more out of sorts. He’s invaded my mind repeatedly and I hate it. I wish I had some control for how to get rid of him.

  “Can we get out of here?” I ask. “I’m sure that I’ll be completely better soon.”

  “I’ll work on it,” says Mason, looking exhausted himself. “It’s chaos outside though. The hospital is completely surrounded by paparazzi since we’re all in here, especially after what happened in the hotel.”

  Somehow the way that he says it tells me that he’s not talking about just the fact that I was stabbed. “What else happened at the hotel?” I ask quietly.

  Mason hesitates and I feel Beckham tense up even more behind me.

  “You’re blood released some kind of power when it fell in that much quantity,” says Beckham hesitantly. “It completely destroyed the entire lobby of the hotel. They’re saying that Courtney must have had some type of bomb with her, but that’s not what happened.”

  I cover my mouth, horrified. “Did anyone…” I can’t finish my statement. If I killed innocent people…

  “No,” Mason says, rushing over to my side and sinking into a chair next to my bed. “It knocked everyone to the ground and everyone was fine, but it disintegrated all the furniture, all the furnishings...I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  We’re all quiet as we mull over the latest series of events. Will I ever just get a few days filled with peace and quiet instead of blood and despair? Leave it to me to destroy the entire hotel that I had just mentioned wanting to return to again.

  Just then, a knock sounds on the door and we all look up to see a policeman standing next to a harried looking nurse. They’re both looking curiously at the scene in front of them. Beckham is cuddled up behind me on the bed, his arm around my waist, while Mason is holding both of my hands in his own. The nurse clears her throat.

  “Inspector Babineaux has some questions,” she says, her cheeks flushing as she tries to tear her gaze away from us.

  Beckham gets out of the bed and stands next to me, offering his silent support. Mason keeps ahold of my hands. “She just woke up and I’ve told you everything I know. Can you come back at a better time?” he barks at them both.

  “I’ve just come to inform you that Courtney Rayne was found dead in her cell an hour ago, her throat ripped open by what appears to be an animal bite. Except for the fact that there’s no way that an animal of that size was in that jail,” says the inspector, his eyes scrutinizing us closely.

  I gasp and feel tears threaten my eyes. I obviously thought Courtney was a terrible person, but I wouldn’t wish her death. Did Aiden do it?

  “Where have the two of you been today?” he asks Beckham and Mason, pulling out a notebook pad and a pen from a satchel I hadn’t noticed he had been carrying.

  “You don’t actually think…” I begin, but Mason cuts me off.

  “We’ve spent every second in this hospital since I brought her here,” he says coldly.

  “Can anyone testify to that besides the three of you?” the inspector asks, his voice filled with suspicion.

  “I’m sure every nurse in this place could,” says Beckham dryly. “They certainly spent enough time spying on us in here.”

  Inspector Babineaux makes some notes on his notepad and then pulls out a card. He hands it to Mason. “I’ll be talking to all of them. If you can think of anything else you haven’t mentioned, let me know.”

  “Of course,” says Mason, disdain still heavy in his voice. The inspector nods, gazing at me for a second too long before striding out of the room. I let out a sigh, my whole body aching.

  “Let’s go home,” I whisper.

  6

  We arrive back in New York City the next day. The flight passed quickly since I spent it in Beckham’s arms in one of the bedrooms in the back. Mason said he was too wound up to sleep so Beckham took full advantage of the time alone with me. Aside from a few internal aches, and a general sense of exhaustion, I was completely back to normal. There was no sign that I had ever been stabbed at all. The heaviness of the event, and the fact that Courtney died such a gruesome death, most likely because of Aiden’s obsession, stays with me however. I feel a tremendous sense of guilt for everything that happened. I’ve watched Mason closely, worried that he would be sad because of his ex girlfriend’s death, but I haven’t noticed any emotion in him besides relief that I’ve recovered.

  We pull up in front of Mason and Damon’s penthouse, and I see Mason and Beckham exchange looks over my head.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “We didn’t exactly tell Damon about the fact that you were stabbed. He thinks that I went out of town to discuss a movie with some producers,” says Beckham sheepishly.

  I’m shocked that they hid something like that from Damon. “Why would you do that? He didn’t think it was weird that I haven’t been trying to get him to talk to me like I had been for the whole rest of the trip?”

  Now Mason is the one to look embarrassed. “I may have shot him a few texts from your phone, just to keep him calm.”

  I feel a flash of anger pass over me. Beckham sees the look on my face and hurries to explain. “Damon has been out of sorts ever since you disappeared. Finding out about Aiden, and seeing you with me, it almost pushed him over the edge. We thought it would be to
o much for him if he found out that something had happened to you. He probably would have killed Courtney himself.”

  I mull his explanation over in my head. Damon had been off lately. It probably would have pushed his overprotectiveness to new, unbearable heights if he had found out. When were these guys going to get tired of always having to save me or worry about me? I resolved for the millionth time that I would get strong enough to save myself, and them, from the future threats that I knew were lurking around us.

  After kissing me goodbye, Beckham headed straight to a meeting. He had left in the middle of a shoot to come get me and he had to try and make amends once again. It was a good thing that all three of them were considered stars in their respective fields. They had become highly unreliable since I had come into their lives.

  The penthouse is silent when we get up to it, and I can sense that Damon isn’t there. A ridiculous feeling of hurt comes over me at the fact that he wasn’t here waiting for me when I got back. I curse my selfishness and grab a drink of water before going to sit on the couch. I had a million things to do for my online classes to catch up from my time with Aiden, but I had absolutely no energy to do any of them. I begin to fall asleep and I’m only faintly aware when Mason picks me up and carries me back to his bedroom. There, I quickly fall asleep in his cloud-like bed cuddled up closely to his warm body.

  The crash of breaking glass and a muffled “shit” rouses me from my thankfully dreamless sleep. Mason is still asleep next to me, apparently so exhausted from the stress of the last few days that not even loud noises can wake him. I slide out of bed, careful to keep silent so that he can continue to sleep.

  I walk down the hall and stop when I see Damon leaned over the counter, drinking straight from a bottle that I know holds elvish wine. I’ve never seen him so drunk.

  “Damon?” I ask, feeling very concerned that it’s a Tuesday afternoon and Damon is already plastered.

  “Eva?” he says, his voice slurred with surprise. “What are you doing here?” he asks, blinking his eyes rapidly as if he’s having trouble seeing me.