Stonehenge.

As memories flooded Aidan’s mind, his fingertips drifted over the recently deciphered text in the jeweled book. He had been to Stonehenge once. A Dreamer had a fantasy there—passionate sex under the stars in the center of the stones. The formation had been whole then, complete, not decimated by time as he now knew it to be.

That woman and the acts he’d committed with her were so distant and foggy as to be rendered meaningless. From the moment he first slid inside Lyssa’s mind, every woman in his past had faded to insignificance. He hadn’t thought such a loss of memory was possible, had even considered the possibility that the journey from the Twilight had altered his brain in some way. But he remembered every other thing in his immortal life. It was only when it came to his sexual past that things got fuzzy. Only Lyssa shone with golden vibrancy in his thoughts, warming his blood, making his heart beat faster.

Lyssa.

His hand closed into a fist and a growl rumbled up from deep in his chest. He was in bad shape. She had been gone nearly two hours now, and he was slowly going insane. Concentrating on the ancient text helped a tiny bit, but not a whole hell of a lot. Even when he managed to decipher a section, it didn’t lead to comprehension. Stonehenge, petroglyphs, and astronomy would be fascinating if Lyssa were beside him, believing in him. Safe. But that wasn’t the case. He feared he was losing her. He, a man who had never feared anything.

He forced his thoughts back to the book. He needed more information. Since a trip to England would leave Lyssa vulnerable, it was immediately ruled out. Somehow he needed to learn what was necessary from thousands of miles away.

The unmistakable sound of the heavy rear door opening brought his head up. He stood, his mouth dry, and waited for her to appear. When she did, he held the edge of the desk with damp palms and searched her features for some hint of her thoughts.

“Hi,” she said wearily.

He came around the desk, but didn’t go to her, afraid that if he kept pushing, he would push her completely away. “Hi.”

“Everything go okay while I was gone?”

“I missed you.” The understatement of his entire life. She made him feel alive, her proximity bringing a tangible wave of awareness across the space that separated them. How different this was, their physical bodies existing and touching on the same plane. Sex with her had been amazing in the Twilight. In real time it was phenomenal. Altering.

She heaved out her breath, dropped her purse to the floor, and walked into his embrace. His arms went around her; his eyes squeezed shut against the painful ache in his chest. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed her in. Her hands stroked up and down his back, soothing him, once again offering him the comfort he hadn’t known he needed until he met her.

“I missed you, too.” She rubbed her face into his new white cotton t-shirt and clung to him. “You look great in jeans.”

Recognizing an olive branch when it was presented to him, he managed a smile and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you approve.”

“Stacey wasn’t too hard on you, was she?”

“Nah, she’s all right. It’s you I’m worried about. How are you holding up?” There was such sadness in her eyes, and she carried herself as if burdened by a great weight. The distance between them was painful, crushing.

Lyssa tilted her head back and stared up at him. “I’m okay. I’m glad there are only a few more hours left before we can leave.”

“Me, too. Anything I can do to help speed things along?”

She gave a wry laugh. “Keep my office door closed. Every time I walk by and see you, I get flustered. Slows me down.”

As warmth suffused his blood, Aidan’s mouth curved. He half sat on the edge of the desk and pulled her between his legs. “Flustered? Or hot and horny?”

“All of the above.” Her hands stroked across the soft cotton that covered his chest, then she caught the chain that peeped out above his neckline and pulled it into view. “What kind of stone is this?”

It looked like an opal but appeared to glow from inside. She turned it over, but found that the mounting was solid silver in the back, leaving no place for light to pass through.

“I have no idea. It was a gift.”

“From a woman?”

He took the space of one breath to relish the jealousy evident in her tone, then shook his head. “No. A favorite teacher.”

“Good.” Lyssa dropped it back beneath his shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips to his, making him groan.

“Back to work I go. Stay out of trouble.”

His hands cupped her ass and held her to him when she tried to step back. “Not so fast.”

Lyssa arched a brow at him.

“Did you eat?” When she wrinkled her nose, he had his answer.

“You didn’t have breakfast, either. You need to take better care of yourself.”

Twisting at the waist, he caught up the bag that rested on the corner of the desk. He tucked his ankles behind her calves to keep her close, and reached inside for the Styrofoam container and spoon. He caught the handle of the plastic utensil between his teeth and used both hands to pry the lid open. Instantly the delicious scent of potato-cheese soup filled the air between them. He retrieved the spoon and grinned when her tummy growled in response to the mouth watering smell. “That’s my favorite soup,” she murmured, licking her lips in a way that goaded him to mimic her, his tongue following the lush lower curve of her mouth.

“I know.” He scooped up a spoonful. “Open wide.”

He alternated between feeding her and kissing her. It was as intimate as sex and just as moving. She laughed, her dark eyes bright with pleasure, and he wanted her. Wanted her this way, open and warm. He couldn’t wait to go home with her, to take her again. And again. And again. Indulging his every desire, every sexual whim, listening to the little whimpers she made when she was desperate for orgasm, wallowing in the lust that grew from the inside and worked its way out, not the other way around. Not for physical release, but for physical closeness, a connection as real as the one he felt inside him.

Then, when she was exhausted, her mind plunging straight through the Twilight into deep unconsciousness, he would be able to study the Stonehenge clue without distractions.

“No more,” she protested, when the contents were two-thirds gone. “I’m going to burst.”

“Just a little more,” he coaxed, encouraged by the healthy pink flush that had replaced her previous paleness. He winked. “You’ll need your strength later.”

She shivered in that delightful way that made his cock twitch, then opened her mouth, finishing every drop.

As Wulf walked the length of corridor that framed the center courtyard, hot air coursed over his sweat-dampened skin. He relished the heat, accustomed to it from long months spent in the desert protecting and strengthening the borders of D’Ashier. Attired in a mästare’s uniform, he was clad only in a loose pair of linen drawstring pants that hung low on his hips. His chest and feet were bare. He moved toward Sapphire’s office with his customary bold gait, a stride that proclaimed without a word that he controlled all things around him.

The cool tiles felt wonderful against the soles of his feet. Apparently Sapphire shunned technology whenever she could comfortably do so. He liked that about her. He’d had his share of pampered, indolent women. The thought of an earthy lover made his pulse race.

And now, finally, he was moments away from seeing her again, face to face. Wulf’s palms itched at the thought.

The first time he’d seen her, he had been rousing from near death. In the days since, he’d almost managed to convince himself that she couldn’t be as breathtaking as he remembered. He was hopeful those first moments of renewed life and consciousness in the healing chamber had simply caused a temporary susceptibility. Perhaps any woman would have been especially appealing.

His mouth curved in a self-deprecating smile. Obviously he hadn’t convinced himself of the ordinariness of her charms, because he could have escaped at any time, yet here he was. The efforts Sapphire had taken to detain him were impressive and intriguing, displaying a knowledge of imprisonment he would have thought beyond a concubine’s sphere of study. Still, he was confident he could slip away with a little effort… if he weren’t trapped here as surely as if he were chained. No matter how vital it was that he return to D’Ashier, he couldn’t leave without knowing what the consequences would be for her.

And if she wanted him as much now as she had before, he intended to celebrate his rebirth in her bed.

Wulf paused on the threshold of her open-walled office. As he caught sight of her, his body hardened with need. He hadn’t been mistaken or delusional. Sapphire was stunning. Small-boned and petite, she stood on a short step reaching for a book. When she turned to face him, her smile tightened his chest.

“How are you feeling?” she queried in a raspy voice.

Dressed in an almost transparent shift, she robbed him of speech. The sight of her lush curves sent heat flaring across his skin.

Full, firm breasts swayed unfettered over rounded hips, and jeweled rings sparkled from luxuriously long nipples. Her waist was not small—in fact, she had a slight womanly roundness to her belly—but it looked tiny in relation to the voluptuousness of her figure.

Her hair was waist-length and a lovely shiny brown color like the pelt of a hosen fox. Her face, while not classically beautiful, was arresting with intelligent brown eyes, full lips, and a determined jaw. Beneath the shimmering sheer fabric of her gown, her skin was creamy and completely hairless—the hair most likely lasered off permanently.

Wulf’s mouth was as dry as the desert outside. Sapphire possessed something much more attractive than physical beauty—she radiated confidence. She aroused because it was clear she hungered for the pleasures of life and she was determined to pursue those pleasures. He sensed she was a kindred spirit, a primitive creature like himself in a world that had long ago evolved and been tamed.

As she stepped down to sit at her desk, her smile widened, and a sudden realization burned through Wulf’s mind. When he was in her presence, his focus narrowed until he was aware only of her. When she’d stood in front of the healing chamber, he had ceased to feel the excruciating pain of his wounds or his profound exhaustion. He could only watch her, ache for her as she rubbed herself against the glass and stared at him with open admiration and desire. The way she’d looked at him had made him feel powerful and virile at a time when he was helpless and disgusted by his own weakness.

He wanted her. She made him feel both carnal and possessive. His body craved hers on some base level. He wondered if his recent ordeal had changed him in some way, made him vulnerable, as he hadn’t been previously.

“Well, Prince Wulfric? How are you?”

A ripple of pleasure coursed through him at the sound of her throaty voice. “Mistress,” he answered, the word rolling off his tongue in a way that said he was in her service only because he chose to be, and not because she forced him. “I’m feeling much improved.”

Her dark eyes sparkled. “I’m happy to hear that. The Guardian says you asked for permission to speak with me. You have it. Speak.”

He started in surprise at her tone, but didn’t show it. Authority had slipped over her like a monarch’s robes. Wulf noted her self-possession and her ease in command. There was more to this concubine than met the eye. He was determined to discover as much as he could about her before he left.

“I’m curious as to the state of my present circumstances.” He kept his face impassive, not wanting to betray his confidence that he could leave her at will. It was obvious Sapphire had nothing to do with his capture. The mästares told him of her surprise at discovering him in her home and she made no effort to question him or torment him as would someone who had a malicious intent. That left many questions unanswered. “Am I to be ransomed?”

“You didn’t have to see me to ask that question. Guardian, will you answer?”

“There is no ransom, Prince Wulfric. Your countrymen believe you to be dead.”

Wulf didn’t even blink. After his failure to check in, search parties would have discovered the remains of his patrol. Despite that evidence, the palace would know he was alive. Deep inside the flesh of his right buttock was a nanotach—a chip powered by his cellular energy that conveyed his location.

To avoid war, his father would allow him a reasonable amount of time to escape. After that, fighting would begin. D’Ashier needed him. He had work to do. The assault against his patrol had succeeded owing to careful planning. No one would dedicate that amount of effort for mere sport. What had been the original intent of the ambush? Ransom? Information? And how did the plans change so greatly that he was now in the care of the king’s favorite concubine?

The Guardian misunderstood his silence.

“Be forewarned if you think to end the Mistress’s life for your freedom. With her training, you may find an unexpected result.”

Sapphire studied him with a penetrating gaze, as if she hoped to see his intentions from the outside.

“I don’t want to kill you,” he assured her softly. “If I did, I would have done so by now.”

Wulf tensed a moment too late. What occurred next transpired so quickly he couldn’t be certain later what happened. He remembered only that she sprang from her chair and flew across the desk in one fluid movement. Her smaller body hit his with enough force to knock him to the floor. The teasing prick of pain at his neck warned him that she held a blade in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, he would bleed to death.

For a moment, horrifying memories of his ambush made his heart race desperately. His chest lifted and fell in near panicked rhythm. He could smell the cave and taste his own blood. He inhaled sharply—

—and the scent of Draxian lilies permeated his senses.

Her scent.

The warmth and softness of her body was a salve. He was soothed, just from the feel of her, his fear and confusion gone as quickly as they’d come. Still he was shocked, staring up at her with wide eyes. It took years of training for a woman of her slight build to better a man of his size. Sapphire wouldn’t have managed it without the element of surprise. But that was not the point. The point was she had bettered him. She was no easy target and she wanted him to know that. He was impressed.

Then his admiration flared into something hotter as the press of her curves onto his body burned into his consciousness. Suddenly, he was more than impressed, he was aroused.

Her breasts, so full and soft, were against his chest with only her transparent shift between them. Her legs, lithe and obviously powerful, were tangled with his. Gripping her waist with one hand, he watched her lips part and her pupils dilate. His cock swelled against her thigh. Her hair surrounded them in fragrant silk and he wrapped his fist into it, pulling her closer. Moistening his lips, Wulf longed for her to kiss him, his gaze riveted to her lush mouth.

Every nerve ending in his body was alert, every muscle tense. Every breath pushed his chest into those beautiful tits.

“Kiss me,” he ordered.

The knife at his neck wavered. “I won’t.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” she whispered.

“I know I almost died a few days ago and woke instead to the sight of you.” Wulfric lifted his head and nuzzled his nose against hers. “Kindness, a gentle soul—none of that would have revived me the way your desire did. You’ve no notion of what I owe you for that.”

Sapphire sighed, her free hand brushing briefly across his cheek. “Then don’t ask this of me.”

It was the regret in her tone and that fleeting caress that moved him. He didn’t have time to woo her properly, but he knew when it was wiser to retreat than press a shaky advantage. It took tremendous willpower to release her, but Wulf managed it.

When Sapphire slid off him and returned to her seat behind the desk, his disappointment was acute. He sprang from the floor and landed on the pads of his feet with the grace of a cat.

His stay with the lovely Sapphire was limited by necessity. Fortunately, the desire he felt was mutual. With that on his side, his rushed seduction just might succeed.

As sunlight flooded his vision, Aidan blinked and stared down at the woman in his arms. His heart stopped, every cell in his body arrested by the flowing golden tresses that tumbled across the sand.

“What…?” She gasped, lovely dark eyes widened in surprise. “Where are we?”

A soft tropical breeze ruffled his hair and reggae played in the background, but his eyes never left her face. She was confused, her short nails digging into the skin of his forearms, and he couldn’t form one coherent word to reassure her.

Lyssa Bates was stunningly beautiful, her features both patrician and sensual. Her mouth full and red, kissable. Her eyes tip-tilted seductively, revealing both intelligence and innocence. Why had she pictured herself as worn and tired looking?

Because that’s the way she felt.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, her fingertips touching his face reverently. “You’re gorgeous.”

And then they were plunged into darkness. The music fell silent and the fragrant sea breeze disappeared, leaving only the two of them intertwined, their hearts racing next to each other.

“What happened?” she cried plaintively.

Aidan was immobilized in shock. He had desired her scent, the feel of her body, the blunt way she spoke… Regardless of her facial appearance, he’d wanted to take her beneath him and fuck her senseless. Sex as a distraction had always worked for him, and from her response to his embrace he’d known it would work for her, too.

Then he saw her. And now he wanted something more.

“You got scared,” he managed hoarsely. “Lost the dream.”

As he struggled with the implications, she resumed caressing his face, learning his features by touch like a sculptor would. He had no idea what she’d seen in the light. Her dream would make him into whatever she desired most. For the first time he resented that, wishing the effect he had on her was genuine and the face she admired so much was his own.
“Aidan?” Her sweet voice was low, tentative. Lonely.

Just like he was.

He rolled, pulling her over him, his arms dropping to the ground. His head fell back and his eyes closed, the weight of his dilemma crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe. An eternity of seducing had made this moment abundantly clear—something fragile had taken root in that brief moment their eyes had met.

It needed to be crushed, and Lyssa forgotten.

“Yes?” His voice was gruff and he felt the confusion it caused ripple through her. He should let her go, move her off him.

But he couldn’t do it.

Then she lowered her mouth to his, her softly fragrant hair surrounding him, encasing them together, until all he was cognizant of was her and how much he wanted her. Her lips touched his, a brief kiss, a gentle pressing. He groaned in painful awareness. Emboldened, her tongue flicked out, wetting his bottom lip before she sucked on it with a rhythmic pull that made his cock swell and ache. Lyssa set her hands on either side of his head, lifting slightly to brush her breasts back and forth across his chest.

Aidan Cross, Elite Warrior and immortal seducer, was being consummately seduced for the first time in his endless memory. And Lyssa Bates was very, very good at it.

He’d wanted to distract her and get laid. Now, mating with Lyssa had become a dangerous tangle. His brain was not analyzing step by step the best way to excite her so he could hurry up and thrust his cock into her. His brain was barely functioning at all, other than registering panic at the depth of his craving. He wanted to hold her close, take his time, arouse her to madness with his mouth and hands before sliding into her and letting her come. Over and over again.

Not to forget himself. But to find himself. To remember what it felt like when he still had hope left, to remember when he hadn’t been afraid to care about someone.

Opening his mouth to speak, he was instead plundered by her kiss, her tongue sweeping inside, stroking along his, making him shiver. She moved, her thighs straddling his hips, her cunt to his cock, her lithe body gliding sinuously along his in a full body caress. His chest rose and fell so rapidly he felt dizzy. Sweating, he reached for her, the goal to push her away, but his muscles refused to comply.

“The sand,” he gasped, turning his head, which freed her mouth to nibble along his jaw.

Instantly, sand cushioned his back.

“The sun.” If he forced her focus to shift, perhaps her ardor would lessen enough to allow him to resist.

The air around then lightened slowly, like a sunrise, bathing her in a golden glow that formed a halo through her hair. She was an angel to him, a woman both open and innocent, yet not as fragile as circumstances made her appear.

“Please, don’t stop,” she breathed in his ear, making him shiver.

“Lyssa.” His jaw tightened. “You don’t understand.”

She ground her hips downward onto him, his cock jerking at the feel of her heat burning through to his most sensitive skin. “You want me,” she argued stubbornly.

“Yes, but there are things you don’t know.”

“Okay, so tell me.” She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest, a move that said so much in its defiance and defensiveness. “This is my damn dream, and I still don’t get the hot guy?”

“You’ll get me,” he said, his fingers kneading restlessly into her thighs. “But first we have to come to an agreement.”

One light brown eyebrow arched and then she stood, leaving him bereft. “Forget it.”

She took off down the beach, and he rolled to his side and watched her. Dressed in gray sweat pants and white T-shirt, she looked adorable. He wanted to cuddle her and stare at her, memorize every nuance of her perfect features. “No way am I bribing sex out of my own dream,” she muttered. “I may be hard up, but I’ve got my pride.”

“Lyssa…”

“You’re free to go.” She waved farewell over one stiff shoulder. “I’ll just head around this palm tree here and dream up a guy who’s into me.”

Aidan was on his feet and after her before he could consider the flare of possessiveness that moved him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It made him angry and when he grabbed her, he was rough, jerking her to a halt. “I’m into you,” he growled, catching her hand and yanking it crudely to his crotch. His cock pulsed in her palm in reaction to her touch.

Her eyes widened. Then she gave him a delicious squeeze. His jaw clenched as heat lanced up his spine.

Lyssa had no idea where that bit of boldness came from. Yes, Aidan was hot enough to melt mental synapses and her cells had been sleep deprived to begin with, but to cup a stranger’s cock like she had every right to… Of course it had been his idea… And this was a dream…

Still, the man was over six feet tall, with shoulders so broad she couldn’t see past him. His torso tapered to a lean waist, trim hips and powerful thighs. The memory of those thighs between hers made her mouth dry. And the cock in her hand was weighty and thick. She slid her touch upward, judging length, and blinked in awe.

Then again, he was huge everywhere, why not here, too?

Wow, she must have some kinky subconscious fantasies to make him that big. Who knew she had it in her?

Ohhh… in her. Her grasp tightened.

The ticking muscle in his jaw and burning blue gaze told her she was pushing it, but she couldn’t make herself let go. He dripped wicked, erotic, decadent sex from every pore.

Damn. Finally, after all these years, she had a dream about the perfect guy, and she couldn’t get it right. Figures. She released him reluctantly, and turned away.

He fell into step beside her. With a covert glance she studied him, noting the loose natural linen slacks and shirt he wore, which offered comfort and ease of movement. His clothing was almost like surgical scrubs or a Karate Gi.

“Lyssa Bates,” he began.

“No one calls me by my name like that.” She looked ahead and to the sides, anywhere but at him. To the right, Caribbean-clear water stretched as far as the eye could see. To the left, sand went on endlessly. No breeze, no trees. She concentrated hard, and watched in amazement as a short baby sago palm popped out of the ground in front of Aidan, nearly tripping him.

“Hey,” he grumbled, “Watch it.”

She laughed.

His sidelong glance revealed a reluctant smile. “I want you. I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“Sure.”

“There are things you need to know first.”

“You don’t date seriously, you’re not looking for a girlfriend, no attachments. It’s just sex.”

“Yes, all that, and I’m a Dream Guardian.”

Her brows rose. “O-kay… That’s a new one.”

“The sand, the sea, your clothes, even the darkness–they are inventions of your mind. I am not.”

“You’re not?”

“No. You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to.”

Lyssa kicked at the sand. “Yeah, I figured that one out already.”

He reached out and caught her hand, then dropped it as if it burned him.

Staring down, she saw his hands clench into fists. “What does a Dream Guardian do?”

“It depends,” he said, his voice rough. “There are a lot of us and we’re divided into certain specialties. Each Guardian has their strengths. Some are tender and offer comfort to those who grieve or are deeply saddened. Others are playful and fill in dreams of sports heroes or reality television shows.”

“I suppose you’re one of the tender ones,” she guessed. “Which explains why you’ve been so nice to me.”

Aidan stumbled to a halt.

She turned and looked at him. “What?”

“I’m Captain of the Elite Warriors,” he said, as if that explained everything.

I keep the bad guys away, he’d told her that first night. Sure, he had the body of a boxer, but he’d been kind to her. Compassionate.

“What’s an Elite Warrior?”

“I’m assigned to Dreamers with recurring Nightmares.”

“Like a bodyguard?”

“More like a military rescue.”

“That’s why you’re so big.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what you see when you look at me. Your dream is fabricating my appearance. Dreamers can’t see Guardians. Your subconscious fills in the gaps.”

“Oh.” Suddenly depressed, Lyssa sank down to the sand and wrapped her arms around her upraised knees. “Why do I need an Elite Warrior in my dreams?”

“The door you built is a formidable one. We had to come in and I’m the muscle.”

Her short laugh held no humor. “That’s why you came back tonight? Because I wouldn’t open the door again?”

“Yes.”

God, I really am pathetic. She had totally believed that line about him worrying about her. “Why do they want to come in here so bad? There’s nothing to see.”

Aidan sat cross-legged on the beach between her and the ocean. With his cream colored clothing and dark hair, the blue of his eyes was startling against the ocean backdrop. He was the most gorgeous, luscious masculine animal she had ever seen. Even as she applauded her imagination, she mourned that he wasn’t real.

It was all in her head.

“Nightmares are real,” he said. “Just not in the way humans have come to see them.”

“Huh?” She waited for him to speak, and then listened with damp palms as he explained in a voice devoid of inflection.

Since the Nightmares had discovered the human subconscious through the fissure, the battle was never-ending. The dreams created in the human mind had given Nightmares a new power source on which to thrive. Fear, fury, misery–these were easily aroused through dreams, and fed them so well.

“Too many times I’ve seen the dark circles under human eyes, the slumping shoulders, the weary shuffling stride.” Aidan’s hands fisted rhythmically in his lap. “Over the years the Elders have tried to close off the tiny crack between the Twilight and your kind, but there’s no way, Lyssa. We can only do damage control.”

And here she’d thought she was an expert on dreams after a lifetime of struggling with hers. How little she knew.

“We fight back as best we can to protect your kind. We’ve become phantasms, taking on the form and nuances of each individual subconscious.”

Shifting sand through her fingers, Lyssa considered everything carefully, and then asked, “Why do I have to know all this? I’m assuming most people don’t?”

“Most people don’t,” he agreed. “But you’re stronger than most. You recognize all guises, and you can keep us out if you want to.”

“They just want to come in, look around, and see if there are any Nightmares lurking in here? That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Despite what he said, she got the distinct impression he wasn’t telling her everything. “So if most people don’t know what’s up, what do you do in their dreams?”

“Whatever they need done to move through the Twilight in the shortest amount of time.”

“Whatever they need, huh?” She studied him, noting the tensing of his jaw.

I’ll do more than say it.

“You do more than kick ass, don’t you?” Her stomach churned when Aidan didn’t say anything, which said everything. She’d felt his expertise in his touch, had tasted it in his kiss, would have been fucking him blind right now if he hadn’t put on the breaks. The man knew his way around a woman’s body. “Wow, dirty job, but someone’s got to do it, eh? Do you all go around…?”

“No. Just the Sensual Guardians.”

“I thought you were a fighter?”

“A warrior,” he corrected.

“A man of many talents.” Blowing out her breath, Lyssa stood and dusted off her hands on her sweats, hiding her quivering lower lip. “Go ahead and tell them I’ll let them in.”

He stood, too, and came toward her. Setting his large hands on her shoulders, he lowered his head, his lips parted for a kiss. She jerked away.

“Thanks, but you can just go.” She pictured a thatched-roof bar a little ways up the beach and strode toward it rapidly. She needed a drink. Bad. “I think I’ve got the hang of this dreaming thing.”

“It was your fear that held you back,” he said behind her. “At some point the Nightmares must have really frightened you. You chose the safety of darkness and the door over your dreams.”

“Good to know. Guess I’m cured.” When he materialized before her, she screamed and jumped back, sheltering her racing heart with her hands. “Damn it, you scared the shit out of me! Don’t do that.”

But Aidan didn’t look like he was playing. His sapphire gaze was dark and hot, heavy lidded with desire. “I want you.”

The simple statement started a quiver in her belly that expanded into a full-fledged shiver of awareness. The look in his eyes promised sex and sweat and stunning orgasms.

“Uh, that’s nice…but I’m going to pass.” Her voice was shakier than she would have wished. He had been her comfort, her rock to lean on. Could his solace have been a duty, nothing more? She’d thought they had a rare connection.

Which showed just how messed up she really was.

“Why?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m not into pity fucks.” She actually heard his teeth grind, but despite the tension radiating from his frame, she wasn’t afraid of him. “I’ve been protecting myself just fine over the last however-many-years. I don’t need you to screw me into the Twilight, or whatever the hell it is you do.”

His nostrils flared. “You know that’s not the reason I want you.”

“I do? Hmm… I wonder why you weren’t swept away by the moment when I was rubbing myself all over you. Was it uncontrollable passion that made you stop and explain the rules first? I must be doing it all wrong then. Silly me. When I get horny, I think about sex.” She turned around and pictured her hut bar in the opposite direction.

“Lyssa–” His grip stopped her so fast she was yanked to a halt.

“Lyssa! For God’s sake wake up!”

Violent shoving brought her to the awareness of her mother’s voice and her cream-colored living room.