Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5) (8 page)

Tears formed in Mick’s eyes, which had reverted to the deepest, most beautiful blue, and flowed to wet his cheeks.

Chapter Eight

“Mick.” The word held my profound love for him, past and present. “I’m all right. You took care of me.”

Mick studied me a moment longer, then leaned down and kissed my lips, the tenderest, most heart-wrenching kiss he’d ever given me. I came out of it with my body hot, my exhaustion easing.
 

“Gabrielle,” I said, that one knot of worry still squeezing. “Her arm got burned. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s in Many Farms. I healed her.”

Of course. Mick took care of everyone.
 

His look turned concerned. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

“You never hurt me, Mick.”

Mick removed the T-shirt with the gentlest of touches. His hands went all over my body, healing magic entering my bones.

Mick loved me then—stripped off his clothes and came down to me in silence, his hot tears dropping to my skin. The lovemaking touched memories of my dreams, which had been so real. I’d felt him then as I felt him now.

I slept when we finished, but a dark, dreamless, refreshing sleep. When I woke, the afternoon was fading, though still warm, the hint of storm in the air gone. Mick was beside me on his stomach, watching me, his eyes fully blue now, no trace of the dragon. Just the man who loved me.

He hadn’t bothered with covers. Dying sunlight brushed the tanned skin of his backside, the muscle of the arm that curved on the pillow.

“I’m surprised my grandmother’s not here,” I murmured, then I sent the closed door a worried glance. “Or is she?”

Mick shook his head. “They don’t know anything happened to you. I got Gabrielle out of there before she saw. No one knows but us. I didn’t want to worry them. Not yet … ”

Mick started to look sad again. I skimmed my fingers along his arm, brushing the edge of a dragon tatt. “I really am fine. You all took good care of me.”

I could see that Mick didn’t agree, but he didn’t answer.
 

I knew the other reason Mick had said nothing to anyone about my coma—he hadn’t wanted to advertise to the magical world that I was down for the count. If the evil magic-born figured out that someone had bested me, they’d either come out and do devastating things in the world or take notes on how someone had hurt me. They’d try to get at the magic in this hotel, never mind who they killed to find it.

“What happened?” I asked after a time. “With the demons? And John and Monica? I could swear they weren’t demons themselves, but John sure came after me.”

“I was never clear on it all.” Mick propped himself on his folded arms and continued to look sexy. “You opened that seam full of demons, and we had a battle. Nash showed up and helped me and Gabrielle drive the demons away from you. He brought Cassandra with him, and we destroyed the demons and their pocket under the motel. Monica and John survived, but they disappeared, and I never found a trace of them.” Mick let out a breath. “Remind me never to piss off Cassandra. I’ve never seen magic like that in a human. She kicked ass without even moving.” The admiration in Mick’s tone was loud and clear.

“Hey,
I’m
human,” I reminded him. “Cassandra’s taken, and she’s not interested in guys.”

Mick looked puzzled. “You’re not human. You’re half goddess.”

Half
evil
goddess. It was nice of him to leave out the “evil” part.

“I was joking,” I said. “I’ve never heard you so impressed. I’m going to get jealous.”

“Why?” He was still perplexed. “Cassandra’s magic is completely different from yours. I meant she was strong for a human.”

I started laughing. “You are such a dragon. You take everything so literally.”

Mick peered at me with that inquisitiveness that could either be funny or terrifying, depending on the circumstance, and kissed the bridge of my nose. “I love you, Janet Begay. Take
that
literally.”

I didn’t mind at all.

***

I finally wrested myself out of bed and took a shower. When I emerged, damp, hair dripping, it was dark, and the room was empty. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in two weeks.

How had Mick kept me alive all that time? He and Cassandra must have used some massively powerful healing magic.
 

Then again, there hadn’t been anything physically wrong with me, Cassandra had said, apart from the slashes and bruises I’d picked up in the fight. My body had functioned, but my mind had kept me asleep.

As I dressed, I again tried to find the dreams I’d plunged into, to remember them, to figure out what they meant, but met with a great big nothing.
 

I had a vague recollection of Mick and me riding together as we’d done long ago, but that was it. The details had gone. By the time I headed through the hotel for the kitchen, ravenous, even those remnants of the dreams had vanished.

In the kitchen, Elena had dinner going full throttle. Most of the guest rooms must be full, as Elena was preparing a dozen meals to be carried into the saloon, which served as our dining room. I suspected the hotel was full not only by the number of plates waiting, but also from Elena’s snarls. She’d hired a young man called Don from Whiteriver to be her commis chef, and she sent a steady stream of demands and invective his way. The young Apache man carried out her orders stoically and without fuss.

I didn’t dare ask Elena to throw something together for me, so I slipped into the giant walk-in refrigerator to scrounge for myself.

The refrigerator kept enough food for Elena’s meals and casual meals for the staff. Elena went over the foodstuffs every day, making lists to thrust at me for whatever she needed. She’d been a chef in a New York restaurant before she’d given it up for the simple life, but she still cooked as though I had an unlimited budget for food. Any argument from me that we really didn’t need things like black truffles was met with stony silence.

I usually caved and found what Elena needed. She was one hell of a cook, and I didn’t want to lose her.

I saw movement inside the refrigerator. I tensed, especially when the wave of dark magic came at me, then I relaxed. A tall man in sweats lowered the bottle of blood he was drinking and gave me a relieved look.

“Janet. I’m happy to see you well.”

“I’m happy to be well,” I said. “And starving.” I plucked a tortilla from a shelf, lunch meat from another, wrapped them around each other and shoved them into my mouth.

Ansel watched me a moment, then self-consciously pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed excess blood from his mouth.
 

Ansel had been turned Nightwalker when he’d been a young soldier from London in World War II. He’d been captured by Nazis and put through bizarre experiments to create Nightwalker soldiers to help their side. Plans backfired when Ansel and the other Nightwalkers turned on their makers, killing them before vanishing. Ansel and some of the others had hidden nearby, sabotaging and destroying what they could of the enemy camps—their contribution to the war effort.

Ansel was soft-spoken, polite, and spent his time collecting stamps and antiques. He now had a girlfriend, an antique collector from Santa Fe. She was human, but she and Ansel spoke a language all their own.

Hard to believe that this affable man, happy I was better, could become an insane, monstrous killer who’d more than once nearly destroyed me, my friends, my hotel … He’d been very apologetic about it later. Of course, almost everyone I’d ever known had at one time tried to kill me, so I couldn’t single out Ansel for my anger.

“Anything happen while I was out of it?” I asked him. “Any crises?”

“None that I heard of,” he answered. “Everything shipshape and Bristol fashion.”

He liked to sound like an old-fashioned Brit to tease me. He
was
an old-fashioned Brit in truth, a lady-killer from 1941.

“Are you serious?” I asked. “
Nothing
went wrong while I was … asleep?”

Ansel considered. “I sat up every night with Mick, keeping watch. All was quiet.”

Strange in a hotel that drew the supernatural and the crazy from every corner of the country.
 

I chewed through the rest of my makeshift burrito. My stomach was still growling, but this would have to placate it for now.

“Thanks for helping out, Ansel,” I said, swallowing. “I appreciate it.”

“This is my home too, Janet. You and Mick protect me. It’s the least I can do.”

Such a gentleman. Ansel hadn’t taken any more swallows from the bottle of cow’s blood Elena kept stocked for him while I’d stood there eating. I knew he must be hungry, just rising from his day sleep, but he was being polite and keeping his blood-lusting vampire self hidden from me.

“Still, thanks,” I said. I patted his slim arm, then left the refrigerator and closed the door behind me so he could get on with his feeding frenzy.

Elena had all the meals finished by the time I emerged. Cassandra, as elegant as ever in her gray silk suit and high-heeled black pumps, carried the silver-dome covered plates to the guests in the saloon. There she would quietly set them in front of guests and reveal the feast within to their exclamations of delight.

Don, Elena’s assistant, gave me a quiet smile and blocked Elena’s view while I snitched a fingerful of braised meat from the pan he was carrying to the sink. Damn, it was good.

I had my finger in my mouth when I walked out of the kitchen to the lobby and ran smack into Colby.

“Janet!” He lifted me in his big arms, crushing me hard and spinning around. “So glad to see you finally standing. Micky was scared shitless you’d never wake up.”

Colby swung me around a few more times then thumped me back to the ground. He kept his big hands on my shoulders, his light blue eyes sparkling.
 

“What did you mean when you said Mick called you for help?” I asked him. “What could
you
do that he and Cassandra couldn’t? No offense.” Dragons were proud, and touchy.

Colby’s grin spread wide. “None taken. Micky asked me to find Coyote. Figured he needed a god for this one. I was recruited so no one else had to leave your side. Besides, dragons can be persuasive, even to gods.” He released me and cracked his knuckles, contriving to look modest.

My good mood faded. “So it
was
a spell? Not just me getting whacked on the head?”

My head felt fine, as did the rest of my body. No pain, no headache—in fact, I felt better than I had in a long time.

“You did get whacked, but in the face. A couple of times, Mick said. And then hit with one hell of a magic wave. Micky was seriously worried.”

When Mick was concerned, that meant there was something to be concerned about.

“Thank you,” I told him sincerely.

Colby winked. “Hey, I can think of ways you can thank me …” I knew he was joking. Maybe.
 

“In your dreams,” I said.

“I have terrific dreams.” Colby flickered his tongue at me. “You’d be amazed at what I can dream.”

I raised my hands. “I don’t want to know. I just don’t.”

“I do.” The voice called from inside the saloon. The magic mirror loved to listen in. “Tell me
all
about these delicious dreams.”

Colby, being magical, could hear the mirror. A glance through the saloon’s open doorway reassured me that most of my guests could not. Cassandra sent the mirror an annoyed glare, and the mirror snapped into silence. I wish I knew how she made it obey like that.

“I’m hearing all was quiet while I was out,” I said, shutting the saloon door. “Really? Emmett didn’t come here and try to steal my mirror?”

“Not that I heard about,” Colby answered. “I only got here yesterday, though.”

“Hmm.” What I’d assumed was that Emmett had either spelled me when I’d been in the limousine with him, or had sent the demons to take me out of the picture. Then, when I was unconscious and unable to fight, he’d come after Mick, kill him, and take the mirror. Or maybe bargain with Mick—the mirror for my life. Or, he’d simply try to steal it while Mick was distracted looking after me.

The fact that Emmett had not showed up at all was odd. Troubling.

“Thanks for your help, Colby,” I said. “I mean it.”

He shrugged it away. “I was hoping your sister would be here. She’s crazy—in a good way.”

I raised my brows. “She’s powerful, unstable, and dangerous.”

“Like I said—in a good way. This summer when we were fighting the mages, she and I made a … connection. She likes a good dragon.”

I suppressed a shiver. Colby was a decent guy who’d put himself on the line for me more than once. I did not want Gabrielle to toy with him and maybe kill him, even if she didn’t kill him on purpose. Dragons were hard to hurt, but I hadn’t been kidding when I said Gabrielle was powerful, unstable, and dangerous.

“I’ll tell her you said
hi
,” I countered. “I know she likes dragons. She goes on and on about how hot Drake is.”

Colby gave me an incredulous look. “
Drake
? Seriously? The stick-up-his-ass, kowtows to the Dragon Council, too cold-blooded to be a real dragon
Drake
?”

I nodded, unable to resist teasing him. “You have to admit, he is good looking. Tall, dark, handsome, great ass …”

“Ice in his veins.” Colby scowled. “You’d freeze to death the second you touched him.”

“I don’t know,” I went on. “I have to wonder what would happen when all that ice …
melted
.”

Colby rolled his eyes. “Are women out of their minds? What’s wrong with a fun, nice guy like me?”

“Nothing.” I relented, stepped to him, and gave him a noisy kiss on the cheek. “I’m messing with you.” I kissed him again, then let him go. “Seriously, though, Colby. Find a nice lady dragon to hang out with. Gabrielle could hurt you, and I don’t just mean break your heart.”

“I know. It’s a challenge.” The sparkle returned to Colby’s light blue eyes. “Dragon women try to eat their mates, you know. We’re used to having fighting our lovers for our lives. Micky’s getting soft, living with you.”

I felt another shiver coming on. Colby’s idea of a good time and mine were obviously different.