Lucidity (19 page)

“I don’t think that’s it at all.” Parker sat with her in his lap, adjusting his position to cradle her close. “I think you’re just starting to realize how special you are, and that’s what’s scaring you, babe.”

“I wanted him dead. Do you hear me? And if I’d had a gun, I wouldn’t have shot him. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. I wanted to watch him bleed, and to enjoy the sight of it. What the hell does that say about me?”

It said that, despite her ability, she was still a very human being. Personally, he was glad to know it. “It says you’re a survivor.”

“I can’t do this. You have to take me back. You could come with me. We could pretend we don’t know anything about the asteroid, just spend whatever time we have together, and—”

“I can’t do that,” he whispered, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “And I can’t let you do it either. You’ve got a job to do.”

“Please. Listen. I’ve tried to relax. I thought the shower would help. It didn’t. I can’t. Can’t stop thinking, can’t get my bones to stop shaking or my arms and legs to operate. Can’t even close my eyes. I can’t relax if I don’t feel secure. If I don’t feel relaxed, I can’t sleep, and if I can’t sleep, I can’t dream.” She wanted to strike out, to slap him if necessary, to try to make him see. “I’ve always counted on you to be the realist here, Munroe. Call my people, your people. Maybe there’s still time for an alternate.”

“No. There’s no time.” He sank back into the cushions with her, his voice suddenly harsh. “Look at me, Carlotta. This is too important for you to fade on us now. You were born for this. And dammit, I’ve got all this adrenaline to use up, so you need to keep the world going for a while longer. Now,
look
.”

Carly stared at the phone as he flipped it open and gave her a hard shake. What did he expect from her? Miracles?

“Tell me what you see.”

“A holographic image of the asteroid. A deep gouge on the southwestern side. Huge boulder, the size of a house, near a lipped crater to the east, the glitter of ice particles in sharp, shadowed crevices. The blood-orange reflection of the sun. And a text message.” She shuddered as she read. Despite the wrap and the warmth of his body, she was still cold. “It says,
‘Failure to deflect confirmed. Begin concerted effort now. Projected length of time twelve hours. Final missive.’
”

Parker nodded, smoothing her hair back from her face. “Then it’s up to the dreamers after all?”

She wanted to kiss the wry smile on his face, to burrow against his skin and wish it all away. “Apparently, they’re all that’s left.”

“So dream.”

He didn’t understand. He never had. “Parker, you’re not listening. I’m not a robot. I’m trying to tell you that I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. And you will.” He pulled the blanket closer around her, hugging her body to his, murmuring soothing words in a low, intimate tone. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. No one will ever hurt you again. I swear it. You are my dream, Carly, and I have every intention of making us come true. Now. Go to sleep.”

Chapter Seventeen

Parker Munroe had no idea twelve hours could mean an eternity.

Carly curled against him like a child at first, her frightened eyes eventually drifting closed as he softly stroked her hair. He had no watch, no clock in his direct line of vision, and no idea how long it took for her to go to sleep.

But he knew it was a struggle and how much depended on it. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

When her breathing became measured and even, he gently began to rock. Awkwardly at first, since he’d never done it, but he tried to attain a smooth rhythm. She seemed so small and fragile in his arms he was afraid he would waken her.

He still couldn’t call himself a believer, but he wouldn’t let the chance he might be wrong haunt him forever. Hell, how would that look in whatever history books might be written after this?

“The One Hundred, an avant-garde group of manifesting dreamers, was THIS CLOSE to saving the world as we knew it, but one Parker Munroe, failed government-appointed bodyguard, dropped the damn ball…”

And so he stayed awake. And held on to her for dear life.

Parker watched the hours swallow the force of the fire. The darkness of the room gathered around the single lamp he’d left burning, and the rain blew hard and brittle against the window. A small, pulsing pain smoldered in his injured shoulder, but it would have to wait. His jeans were still damp from the shower and clung to his body, leaving him chilled and stiff, and he needed to go to the bathroom—but he kept his vigil.

When Carly turned, mumbling in dreams, he whispered encouragement and adjusted his position to suit hers. When the ice on the window gradually lightened to silver and his stomach grumbled for food, he wondered how long it had been—and remained very still.

He speculated about the rest of the group, whether there were enough left to do the job. Hell, he wondered whether Carly was there with him at all. Maybe the One Hundred made up one huge, visionary brain, not constricted by their bodies. Maybe it was his imagination that her skin grew paler with time, her breathing more shallow, even as heat seemed to radiate from her skin through the folds of the blanket.

But the passing of the hours was real enough. Painfully so. Parker hadn’t known she’d succumb to such a deathlike sleep. He almost ceased to care about the success of the project. Damn the asteroid. She’d been away from him too long. He wanted her back.

A painful snap of his neck wrenched him away from the edge of sleep, and Parker squinted at the balcony door. The frost fronds glittered like diamonds, dissipating on the glass, and the sun seared cornflower-blue patches through the brooding clouds. Morning. Spaceship Earth was, so far, still on course.

Parker silently ordered his cramped muscles to remain locked as he peered down at the treasure in his arms—to find that her eyes were open. She didn’t blink or look directly at him. She seemed to be barely breathing—just staring at the ceiling.

“Carly?” His voice was thick and dry. The hell with grilled steak. Right now he’d kill for a drink of water. Or whiskey. “Are you all right, babe?”

“Does it hurt?”

“What?”

“You have blood on your chest. I remember…I think I remember you getting shot.” Carly peeked at the newly dissected triangle beneath his rolled sleeve. “Does it hurt?”

She seemed dazed. More like someone recovering from a long illness rather than a dream. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Security.”

“What?”

She stirred, tried to stretch, found herself hampered by the coverlet and frowned up at him. “I remember. The phone rang, and you kept me warm, made me feel secure. You wrapped me in a blanket. Carried me in here and put me in your lap.” She blinked at the remains of the fire, and her sleepy expression changed to horror. “Dear Lord, Parker. You haven’t been sitting here with me all this time, have you?”

He could feel the color creep into his cheeks. “I wanted to make sure you felt…safe. It seemed important.”

“For twelve hours? Are you insane?”

“Yes. For about three months now.” He’d tell her more. Later. He’d tell her that he was hopelessly in love with her, and if spending every day of the rest of his life with her meant forcing the issue, he had the cuffs warm and ready to go. He’d tell her, after he’d ravished her five or six times. With snack breaks in between.

Carly sat up, disentangling herself from the folds of the blanket, her voice gentling. “You sat perfectly still here for all that time? You did that? For me?” She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was naked.

He wasn’t. “Guess I can manage to keep still after all, if it’s important enough.”

Sliding her hand to the back of his neck, she pulled him forward, the smooth satin of her cheek against his rough one. He couldn’t remember when he’d taken the time to shave.

“You’re a crazy man, you know that? I don’t understand. I just wanted to share the truth with you. I didn’t expect you to change.” She brushed her lips against his, just the whisper of a kiss. “Why would you do such a thing? You could’ve just left me to sleep. You don’t believe in the lucid dreaming, in God—in
anything
.”

Her face was radiant, her hair rippling waves over her shoulders, her skin flushed from the warmth of the wrap. And she was all he could ever want, for however long he could have her.

“I believe in
you
, Carlotta.” He pressed his forehead to hers, tired of fighting the truth that would forever change his world. “We can work on the rest of it later.”

Barely half an hour later, Carly impatiently watched the bathroom door as she waited on the sofa for him, restlessly twisting the hem of his black T-shirt. She’d had enough of the diva nightgowns. She liked having the smell of him on her.

When he finally returned to her wearing only a towel, she frowned, noting the angry, red shoulder wound and a slight limp to his gait. She’d brought him to this. It pained her to think she had that power.

“Stop looking at me like I’m some kind of invalid,” he muttered. “I’m still your muscle. Just a little rusty from sitting for so long.”

She’d never noticed how adorable that stubborn male pride could be. Rather than fuss over him, she smiled, handing him a near-scalding cup of coffee, and made room for him on the sofa. “I tried my phone. Dead. No one’s responding. I knew they’d cut us off, but I didn’t think it’d be so abrupt. Have you heard from Shep?”

She didn’t really need to ask if the One Hundred had been successful. She’d felt the energy of the other ninety-nine minds like a massive wave of sound through space, had seen the asteroid wobble and veer off its projected path, just enough to miss target. It was as clear to her as if her dream-screen had been an IMAX theater.

Parker fished his phone out of his discarded jeans and checked. She could actually see the blood drain from his face and almost panicked at the sight of his legs caving beneath him. “Omigod. What’s wrong? What does it say? Don’t you do that, Munroe! You can’t tell me it didn’t work. Tell me you’re going limp with relief. I
know
it worked. I
saw
it.”

“There’s just one message. A simple response.” His fingers were a vise around the phone. “
Fishing trip for July still on. And yes, the gun fits nicely in the crotch
.”

She smiled and stretched, feeling free for the first time in many months. An asteroid was one helluva weight to carry around. “You guys make a cute couple.”

Parker shook his head, gaping at her. “She helps fix the biggest problem in the world and acts like it’s another day at the office.”

“It is. It’s just a very strange office.”

He sat beside her, cuddling her in one heavy arm as she curled into him. It was such a naturally perfect fit she had the strange urge to weep. “I suppose you’ll have to report to your people soon.”

“I’m taking a couple of days off.” He nuzzled her hair contentedly. “I’ve got a secluded little place of my own on the Blue Ridge. You’re coming with me. Once there, we relax, work off tons of adrenaline and take the occasional break for snacks. After that…I thought we might head for Stanford University.”

“Stanford? Why?”

He shrugged, a bit too casually. “It occurs to me that a ragtag bunch of do-gooders, recently emancipated, might get it into their heads to get back together—on a smaller scale—at the place they were born. We could pick up Sam on the way. It’d be good for him. Maybe form a covert group. Something the suits would never approve, something that flies under the radar.”

She moved uneasily beside him, wondering how to respond. As much as the idea appealed to her, she couldn’t help thinking about what had happened to Violet. “We were instructed to hang up our pillows immediately following the experiment. Such a plan would mean hiding from both the Temple
and
our government.”

“Then you’ll be needing your muscle, won’t you?”

The urge to weep intensified, warring with hope and pain. “Parker, I can’t ask you to give up your career.”

“Did you know there’s a volcano brewing off the coast of Indonesia? That there’s been a lethal series of mudslides in Brazil?” He bowed his head. “Not to mention the old soldier in a retirement home in Florida, whose world is rapidly shrinking, who might be helped by just the right visualizations?”

Okay, that did it. She barely managed to stifle a sob as a wayward tear escaped her iron restraint. Sam must’ve told him about their experiments with lucid healing, and he’d taken it to heart. It was overwhelming, the idea of being able to help Parker’s father, and possibly so many others…

He wiped her face and tenderly kissed her eyes. “You’re not asking me to give up anything. It’s done. Because I wanted to. And because I knew you couldn’t stop, as long as you thought you could do some good. Can’t exactly let you mutants loose on an unsuspecting world, can I?”

Oh, she could love this man. Oh yes, she could. “And you said you never dreamed.”

Carly squirmed onto his lap and hurriedly loosened his towel as he groaned, slipping his hands beneath her shirt to cup her bare bottom. She needed this right now, needed to feel alive. “Oh look, Daddy. I’ve forgotten my panties again.”

“Then a sound spanking’s definitely called for.” He tugged the T-shirt over her head, eagerly palming her breasts as he thickened between her thighs. “We’ll put it on the menu.”