Disciple: DreamWalkers, Book 2 (6 page)

Maggie sighed. “I suppose second guessing what they need us for is borrowing trouble.”

“It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“Even if it’s Karen they want us to handle?” she asked dryly.

The tangible-induced relaxation that had dropped over them disappeared—starting with Zeke.

“We’ll do whatever needs to be done.” He stared at the road, wouldn’t glance at her. Were they attending an execution instead of a funeral?

Was Zeke being asked to supply the
coup de grace
?

“Just mentioning her name makes you tense, like you expect something to—”

Zeke cut her off. “She’s comatose, Maggie. Stuck in the sphere. Yeah, it was irregular that I communicated with her, but—”

Her turn to cut him off. “Wait, what? You actually talked to her? That’s a huge piece of information to leave out, Zeke.”

He shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. Had he not intended to share this much information with her? The very thought chilled Maggie’s blood. She slid away from Zeke and crossed her arms.

“Look, Maggie, she was L5 and psycho and knew shit we didn’t realize she’d learned. The tangible—it’s stronger than a normal link. Maybe it let her orate with me, but she was pathetic. And there were no manifestations. I sure as shit didn’t open a full link with her,” Zeke growled.

“I don’t like this. She could be—”

“No, she couldn’t. After we found her and used the ECT on her in Harrisburg, the curator went in and… I don’t know. Made sure she was brain dead. She can’t go anywhere, can’t do anything, or she’d already have… She’d already have come after you. Us, I mean.”

Her hands, under her crossed arms, tightened into fists. “Me?”

“Us. Anyone. All kinds of people. Are hundreds of dreamers turning up dead? Are there manifestations every which where? No. She’s neutralized. Creepy as fuck-all, but neutralized.”

This was what he’d been hiding from her. Maggie licked her lips. “Are we walking into an ambush?”

He shook his head. “If there were manifestations, I’d have seen red conduits. Adi would have alerted the cavalry. That’s not what this is about.”

“What if Karen has killed everybody?” Maggie had only been studying the science of the dreamsphere two months. There was so much she didn’t know.

“I talked to a real, honest-to-God, living, breathing human at the coma station today. I think if Blake’d been preoccupied with fighting off a wraith horde, he’d have mentioned it.”

“Karen tricked you once. Could she be tricking you again?”

“Hell, no,” he snapped. “I’m not that dumb.”

Maggie huddled into herself. “I’m sorry if you’re insulted, but we need to consider some contingency plans.”

Zeke slammed on the brakes of the car and skidded to a stop on the side of the long, empty highway. He wrenched the gearshift into park. “I know I’m not the best teacher in the world, but do you honestly believe I’d take you somewhere there might be a horde, Maggie? Do you?”

“If you were ordered to.” Zeke would be needed to fight and to put Karen out of commission again. Perhaps Adi wanted to keep the incident hush-hush before the whole Somnium blew up. Maggie and Zeke should strategize for dire possibilities, like they were trained to do. “I accompany you on collaring missions, and there are manifested wraiths on those.”

“A few. Not hundreds.” He turned toward her, closer than was restful in the confines of the vehicle. Which was ironic—they slept together. But their current proximity was because Zeke chose to lean toward her. “In a real crisis, you’d be a hindrance. Your blade work is sloppy, and you freeze at the drop of a hat.”

The appraisal didn’t bother her. Since he’d finally admitted she wasn’t a complete loss as an alucinator—complimenting her geolocation, informing her some of her abilities were graduate level—she had no trouble hearing the truth about her combat skills.

“Does my safety matter? If Adi ordered us to walk naked into room full of manifested slime monsters with nothing but daggers, we’d do it.” She’d freak, but she’d do it. Or seriously contemplate doing it, choke up, and immediately get herself slimed.

“I might do it, but you’d do what I ordered and stay the hell out. I’m your mentor, not Adi. I know what’s best for you.” He raked his fingers through his hair, rumpling it more than usual. “You gotta quit being a fear monger. Karen’s not active. If shit like Harrisburg was going down, Adi wouldn’t classify it for just us.”

Perhaps there wasn’t a horde at the coma station, but if this was about Maggie, it wasn’t simple tests. They wouldn’t upset the East Coast schedule, pulling a sentry out, for simple tests.

Zeke was anxious too. It would be easier to have this discussion if she wasn’t looking at his furious face, wondering what was going on behind his changeable gray eyes. She stared at the SUV’s rubber floor mat.

“If we aren’t here about Karen, we’re here about me.”

“Possibly,” he said. “Probably.”

“If Adi orders you to relinquish me to a curator so you can concentrate on more important things, you’ll do that too.”

Leaning across the narrow console, Zeke caught her chin, tilting her face toward him. “Look at me. Dammit, Maggie, why don’t you trust me?”

The contact surprised her. His vehemence did too. It didn’t seem inspired by the fact she’d suggested Karen might be outsmarting him again.

She twisted away from his touch, focusing on the floor. “What does this have to do with trust? You put duty first. We all do.”

This time he grabbed her shoulders and half-hauled her out of the bucket seat. The console bit into her hip, but she did what he wanted—she looked at him.

His face was tight. Intense. Almost close enough to kiss.

“How is this not about trust? You don’t trust me to keep you safe. You won’t relax in the dreamsphere. You won’t let me teach you. You won’t wear a weapon when I tell you to.”

“I do trust you,” she argued. She adjusted her bottom on the console as if it weren’t unusual to sit like this.

“If you did, you’d realize I’d never drag you into a war zone. Risk your life. Just so you know,” he added, “I’d tell a curator to go to hell if he tried to take over your training.”

Her stomach fluttered. The tangible sang through her bones. She had to touch him. She placed a trembling hand on his wrist. “Why? You don’t want students.”

“You’re mine.” One of his hands snaked from her shoulder to the back of her head, immobilizing her.

She indulged herself. She stroked his arm, finding his warm, straining biceps. The smooth skin beneath her fingertips seemed to tingle. “You’d disobey a vigil? A curator?”

He laughed. “Why not? Lill did and lived to tell about it.”

He was too close. His lips—she could barely remember how it felt to kiss him. She needed a refresher. “You realize Rhys will never forgive you if you and Lill both get on the curators’ shit list. It might reflect poorly on him.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Rhys can go fuck himself.”

Good Lord. A pressure grew at the back of her neck as his hand urged her forward. Into his lap. He was thinking about the exact same thing she was—the thing they couldn’t do.

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

Not yet, she didn’t. “In what way?”

“Less panicky.” He pulled her more firmly. She braced her arms against his shoulders, but if he really wanted her, it wouldn’t take much effort to out-wrestle her. Console or no console. Rules or no rules. “You’re not being reassigned. I won’t let that happen.”

“It’s not panic.” She’d assumed for two months that if he lowered his guard, she’d jump him. Seconds ticked by. He pulled. She pushed. Neither of them acknowledged the silent struggle, the tension. “I just thought we should plot scenarios. Prepare ourselves.”

She didn’t want to be separated from Zeke and disappear into the Orbis. What happened to the students no one heard from again?

She wanted to be with Zeke—in so many ways. Why was she resisting when he was trying, at last, to pull her into his arms?

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to be prepared? Good. Quit being a pussy about your damned gun.”

“I thought you agreed you wouldn’t use that term in that fashion? It’s offensive,” she said, diverting him. Hopefully. She couldn’t overcome thirty-something years of being a pacifist, bleeding heart tree hugger in two months. The gun burned her like guilt, and worse, like fear. A pistol was a flimsy defense against monsters unless she shot one enough times to blow off its head. “Assigning negative qualities to the female genitalia is harmful to gender equality.”

“I don’t assign negative qualities to female genitalia.” His gaze traveled down her body. “Far from it.”

God, she didn’t want to talk about genitals with Zeke. He was thinking about hers, right now, and wanted her to know it. What had come over him? He’d pushed her further than arm’s length for two months, and suddenly she was the one having to push. What had changed?

Would he refuse to cooperate if they reassigned her to a curator? Did he want to keep her?

It would be easy to slide onto his lap and inch her hands under his shirt, into his jeans. Kiss him. Lick him. Find out what else he wanted from her, because she wanted…

No.

“You called me a pussy as a synonym for a coward or weakling.” She wiggled her head until his grip on her neck loosened. “I’m not going to listen to that kind of ugliness from anybody, much less you. Let me go.”

Though the SUV wasn’t well-lit, Maggie saw something spark in Zeke’s eyes. “Well, hey, at least I didn’t call you a c—”

Maggie whipped a hand over his mouth. Hard. The sound of flesh striking flesh almost made her flinch. He didn’t retaliate. “You’re deliberately antagonizing me. Why?”

His lips moved against her fingers—tickling and brushing her skin. “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s not on purpose. I’m a natural born asshole.”

“No, you’re not.”

Instead of answering, he licked between two of her fingers.

She tried to snatch her hand away. He caught her wrist, trapping her fingers against his smooth-shaven jaw. His warm lips. He kissed her palm, daring her to comment.

Did he think she wouldn’t? She was an adult, and she could discuss difficult topics. Even with an asshole. “Why are you coming on to me? You’ve done everything in the past two months to kill off that aspect of the tangible. You don’t want this.”

His gray eyes darkened. Suddenly he was forcing her back, into her seat, closing the distance between them. Instead of dragging her across the console, he came to her, into her space.

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I can’t help it.”

His lips found hers, his hands found her body. The slide of his tongue into her mouth melted her on the spot, and she caught his head, gasping. The light fragrance of soap and hair product shivered through her like the tangible, an essence she’d have recognized anywhere. Essence of Zeke. She’d been living with him in her skin, under her skin, for two months.

Without breaking off the kiss that threatened to go nuclear, Zeke clambered around the gearshift. He groped past her, but not to hold her. The seat shot back, flattening. She fell with a squeak. His body bore her down into the leather upholstery. When his weight rested fully against her, he groaned.

“Maggie. Do you have any idea…”

Instead of finishing his thought, he slid a hand behind her neck and kissed her. Maybe he didn’t have an idea either, or any idea besides this. Kissing. Touching. He teased her lips, nibbling, sucking. His tongue curled around hers like a promise of more to come.

Maggie wanted him—how she wanted him—but they weren’t allowed to become sexually involved. “We can’t do this now. We’re expected at the coma station.”

“Don’t care.” His other hand rubbed her arm, her hip. Their legs tangled in the floorboard as they strained closer. Hard to hit the sweet spots in such a narrow space.

“Is this…” She had to stop and breathe when his warm lips feathered across her ear. His tongue raised a trail of sparks. “Something’s about to change, isn’t it? And you know it.”

“You think too much.” He kissed her hard, bruising her mouth, but then licked her so enticingly, she felt it lower. She couldn’t get enough. He shoved his knee between hers, spreading her thighs. Twisted himself into place.

When he was settled, when the hard ridge of his cock rested between her legs, Maggie wanted to weep. God, the miracle of having him close. The idea that he’d wanted her all this time flooded her with desire.

She wound her arms around his neck. Her pussy ached as he started moving against her—slow enough that she could feel his restraint. Hard enough that she could feel his need. She moaned aloud, unable to hide her response. And why should she?

Zeke’s teeth caught her lip like he could devour her pleasure. His hand slipped under her ass. “Lift your legs higher.”

She hesitated. One thigh was wedged against the console, the other knee against the door. He didn’t have much leverage; neither of them had space. But she longed to feel every inch of his bare flesh connecting with hers—feel the tangible like a secret magnet, joining them in rapture.

With that tight a bond, could they ever tear themselves apart?

He caught one of her thighs, yanked it up. The seams of her jeans pulled unpleasantly against her softness. When he rotated his hips against her, hitting the same spot, it pinched in a bad way.

She liked a little slap and nibble, yeah, but only after she was really turned on.

“Ouch!” He kissed her between every word she spoke, interrupting her, silencing her protest with his tongue. “I’m not…” Kiss. “Limber enough…” Kiss. “For this.”

“Then lay still. I’ll bend.” Zeke kissed her neck and slithered toward the floorboard. He palmed a breast and mouthed it through her shirt. “I’ve waited so long.”

“We agreed to… Zeke!”

His teeth locked on her nipple. His hands fumbled at her waistband. “Fucking button. It won’t…” The closure popped free. “There.”

Two months ago, they’d decided not to sleep together until she graduated. For one, it was smart, and for two, it was against the rules for mentors and disciples. But since then, he’d been so cold. Mean. She thought he’d ceased to feel this way about her.