Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2) (9 page)

             
“Suddenly, I don’t feel very safe sitting out here in the car,” I whispered.

             
His fingers wrapped around mine. “I’ll keep you safe.” I tried to smile but fear twisted it into a grimace. “Still, we should probably go inside where it’s warm.” I nodded and we headed inside.

             
Eddyson bayed and scratched at his crate until we let him out. Then, he bayed some more and wagged his whole body. World’s greatest welcome home. Nick built a fire while I put the leftovers in the fridge. He didn’t
need
to eat regular food. All the Caphar needed to sustain themselves were a few Delta waves from a sleeping human mind. But since Nick started hanging around with me, he shared a few meals with me, both the human and Caphar kind.

             
The couch was already angled in front of the fireplace, prepared for what had become our nightly tradition of curling up in front of the fire and gazing into the cavorting flames. I snuggled up against him and leaned my head on his shoulder, with his arm hugged against my chest. Despite all the excitement earlier, the mote between us lingered, and ached in my heart.

             
As the fire warmed me, my eyes drifted closed, my head nodded against his shoulder. “Do you want me to take you to bed, hon?”

             
“No. I wanna stay by the fire.”

             
“Here, then. Slide down. You can sleep in my arms.”

             
Nick and I lounged on the couch with the lights out, the room cast in TV blue as we watched an old movie. I reclined across Nick’s lap, and hugged his arm to my chest like living teddy bear. His fingers raked through my hair, and grazed my cheek. Every touch scorched my skin with tantalizing heat. The warmth lulled my mind, a sensual lullaby.

             
Guard her well, my old friend.

             
My father’s voice filled my mind, and it wasn’t until Nick’s fingers turned to ice on my brow, that I realized I wasn’t the only one to hear it. Eddyson’s head popped up from his slumber at my side. A low rumbling growl rolled from his throat. A first of many firsts from the pup. I sat up and ran my hand down his pelt. Underneath, his muscles were stiff with tension. The quiet growl vibrated his entire body, and he pressed against me for protection.

             
“What the hell?” I said. Eddy wasn’t prone to growling, only in play, and this was something far more primal than those good-natured sounds.

             
“They’re near,” Nick said simply, with no need of explaining who ‘they’ were. Somewhere outside in the darkness cocooning my home, a Wraith lurked, waiting to inflict heaven knew what into our lives. But the words that shattered our quiet solitude were from my father’s voice. Who was he speaking to? Was he talking about me?

             
“They’re gone,” Nick announced a moment later, but the rigid tension in his body didn’t fade in their absence. He slid from the couch and stalked the room, eyed the darkness outside the windows. I wondered what he saw in the shadows of the shed and barn, and in the sway of the pine trees that surrounded my home. How many times were we going to do this? How many times would we sit like treed game, waiting to be picked off?

             
Nick’s fingers flew over his cell’s keypad; a frantic message to Sabre, no doubt. His face grew hard and dark, a wall erected behind his eyes—hiding something from me. “I thought you said you can’t detect Rephaim at a distance.” I remembered all of Nick’s lessons on the Caphar.

             
“Well, thanks to you, I’m able to reach out farther now.” I’d allowed him to experiment on me to learn how to do a memory weave from a distance without any physical contact.

             
“Then why didn’t you see him coming?” I asked.

             
“I’d have to have my radar out 24/7 to do that. It’s a new gift, Em. It takes a lot of energy to produce.”

             
“Oh.” I dropped my head into my hands and rubbed circles on my temples. I hadn’t realized the stress in my features until my fingers found it out. Nick’s clothes swished quietly as he knelt by my side.

             
“It’s okay, hon,” he said. “Whoever it was, is gone.”

             
“Yeah? But what did he want? Why did he project my dad’s voice?”

             
“I don’t know,” he said. But something flickering off his internal wall made me think maybe he did know. Or at least had a hunch. What was Nick protecting me from, now?

             
I stood and walked away. “Sometimes—I’m not sure that you’re altogether honest with me,” I said. Nick didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, so I knew I was right. I didn’t need to look at him to sense his eyes avoiding me, sense the regret rolling off of him. If he was so dogged at keeping his secrets, how could I get him to spill them? I might be able to seduce them out of him, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for anything that remotely looked sexual—or if I even knew how. Though sometimes, my body responded to his touch in ways that could only be defined as sexual. I could just ask, but I knew he would play it off as nothing of importance, and that wouldn’t get me anywhere. No, I’d have to wait him out. I’d find out sooner or later. Either he’d tell me or he’d leak. Either way, I’d eventually know the truth. But did he even have a clue the damage these secrets were causing? Perhaps, it was a necessary risk he was willing to take.

             
“Do you trust me?” I asked out of the blue.

             
“Of course I do,” he answered.

             
Then his secrets weren’t about trust.

             
“Then you think I’m not tough enough to handle it?” I tried again.

             
“You get tougher every day.”

             
Hmm. So it could be about protecting me, the delicate flower he perceived in me. Or maybe, he wasn’t protecting me at all. Maybe he was protecting himself.

             
I crossed the living room and cuddled against his chest. For decades, Nickolas Benedetti bottled his secrets deep inside himself. I’d have to be patient in uncovering his truth. We returned to the couch and our movie, though his muscles never relaxed again the way they had before and a nervous tension jittered through him that didn’t go unnoticed by me.

Chapter 11
Whataya Want From Me

              “The dog responded to the presence of a Wraith?” Sabre asked. He’d come to the cottage an hour after our little visit.

             
“Yeah,” Nick said, “it was uncanny.”
Now, there’s a word people don’t use much today.

             
Sabre scratched Eddyson behind the ear, one of his favorite spots, as Eddy lounged across his lap. “He has no aversion to either of us,” Sabre noted.

             
“Neither of you tried to kill him,” I interjected.

             
“I think it’s more than that,” Nick said. Sabre’s eyes snapped to Nick, eager to hear his hypothesis. “Canine senses are keen, even more so than Caphar. Maybe there’s a scent, or they perceive a sound or fluctuation of light.”

             
“I know they can smell fear on a person,” I offered.

             
“Animals can also sense things from humans. A cat can tell if you’re a cat person or not. Dogs can tell if a person is trustworthy or not,” Sabre said.

             
I flashed a knowing look at Nick. His eyes darted away from mine. Sabre just shrugged, gave a quiet snort and rolled his eyes. He seemed to be in on whatever Nick’s secrets were.

             
“I should go,” Sabre said as he placed Eddyson on the couch. Both of the guys were silent for moment, then Nick’s head gave a minute nod. Some sort of private communication passed between them.

             
“Yeah, me too,” Nick said. “I could use an hour of sleep.” Dream Weavers didn’t need long hours of sleep like regular humans. An hour or so here and there sufficed.

             
I stepped toward him one halting step. “You could stay here. If you want,” I suggested. Maybe I could learn more if his guard was down. Maybe he would ‘leak’ some more information. The idea seemed to flash behind his eyes, as well. “I really don’t want to be alone if whoever that was comes back.” And I was being honest. The thought of being alone if Thomas returned to the cottage petrified me.

             
Nick extinguished his own fear to save me from mine. He came to me and wrapped an arm around my waist. “It’s all right, honey. I’ll stay.” He kissed my temple.

             
“One of these days, you two are going to make me lose my lunch,” Sabre grumbled and shimmered from the room.

             
“I’d believe that if you ate real food!” I yelled after him, unsure if he’d heard me or not.

             
Nick chuckled. “He heard.”

             
I took Nick by the hand and towed him to the bedroom. “Bed, now,” I commanded. I half expected him to sweep me into an embrace and politely suggest more recreational endeavors. But he tensed and grimaced at the bed. My hands framed his warm cheeks to temper the fear that danced behind his eyes. “Nick? What’s wrong?”

             
“It’s nothing.”

             
“You don’t look like it’s nothing. You look like you’re afraid my bed might eat you.”

             
“I’ve just—been having these dreams,” he said finally.

             
“Bad dreams?”

             
He nodded.

             
“I can relate.”

             
He huffed a tired laugh. “Yeah,” he said, his voice tired and reluctant. “I know you can.”

             
“Come on. Let’s see if we can get you some rest. Maybe if you’re here with me the dreams will stay away.”

             
“Yeah,” he said as he sat on the bed and slid out of his shoes. “Maybe.”

             
I pulled him into my arms on the bed. His head lay heavy on my chest listening to the rhythm of my heart. My fingers outlined the muscles that lay tense beneath his skin. “Sleep, Data,” I whispered a line from an old Star Trek show. Nick’s chest rumbled softly. I raked my fingers through his hair, and he closed his eyes with a hum of pleasure.

             
“My mother used to do that when I was a child,” he confided.

             
Nick had never really shared anything with me about his parents, only his young family. “What happened to them?”

             
“They died.” Nick couldn’t miss the rush of air into my lungs. “No, nothing like—what happened with your folks,” he explained. “I visited them as much as I could after I changed. After a while, it was difficult to explain why they aged yet I grew no older. I moved away, sent letters. My mother died of cancer in 1957. My father’s world was wrapped around her. He couldn’t live without her and died a few weeks later.”

             
“That’s so sad.”             

             
“It is what it is,” he smiled.

             
“Wow, such happy memories to go to sleep to,” I said with reluctance.

             
“Nah, it’s all right. I’ve had a few years to come to terms with it. My childhood memories are much like your own, happy and carefree. My parents were kind, gentle people. Those are the memories that I choose to remember.”

             
“You and your choices.” I remembered what he taught me about the choices I made and how they impacted my life; how I’d applied those lessons and chosen to be a survivor instead of a victim. “Close your eyes,” I said, and kissed his lids closed. His hand snaked into my hair and he pulled my mouth to his. Fire sparked from his body to mine, his fingertips to my flesh. But he pulled away suddenly, as if it frightened him. He sat up in bed.

             
“Maybe I should go,” he said.

             
“Please. Stay.” A tangled web of emotions spun across his face. “Please. I’ll sleep
with
you.” Nick’s eyes grew round and I gasped at my own words. “I mean—I’ll sleep—at the same time—while you sleep.”

             
As if he could no longer control it, Nick burst into laughter and sank back into the pillows and my arms. “Yes, perhaps you should. You’re getting your mords wixed.”

             
I slugged his shoulder. “Just go to sleep, will you?”

             
Nick continued to chuckle as his body relaxed against me. Soon the heaviness of sleep pulled both of us under. As I drifted into nothingness, I wondered if his gifts were the weights that pulled my soul to the depths of slumber, but the thought evaporated with each slowing breath. We drifted, heavy and warm, into the labyrinth of sleep.

*          *          *

             
His hands bind my own.

              His lips speak violence.

              His hands speak pain.

              His hands touch me in ways he never would.

              His voice speaks things he would never say.

              He hurts me.

              He takes me.

             
I awoke with a gasp, the images darted and dived like raging birds protecting their nest.  I clutched my head in my hands, clawed my fingers through my hair, tried to scrape the images from my brain. I couldn’t see who ‘he’ was. Couldn’t understand why a nightmare like that had suddenly infiltrated my sleep when they had lain dormant since the holidays. Confusion and chaos whirled through me, churning the sediment of grief that settled in the depths of my soul.

             
“Hey. You okay?”

             
I scrubbed my face with my palms. “Yeah. Bad dream. I think you’re contagious. Thanks for sharing.” Nick’s body went rigid at my side as though he really was contagious. “I’m kidding,” I said. “It was just one of the old nightmares I used to have. Maybe Thomas is out there messing with my head again.” But Eddy wasn’t growling. He was tucked safe and warm beside Nick. “How ‘bout you? Did you get a little sleep.” I glanced at the clock to see we’d been asleep a couple of hours.

             
“Yeah,” he said, his voice burdened with something I couldn’t put my finger on. He slid from under the covers. “I’ll go out and check on things.”

             
What was going on? What was Nick hiding from me that stirred up so much fear in him? And could this relationship really survive without honesty? I thought of my parents. They’d learned the kind of things that hurt the other and avoided those things rather than doing it and hiding it from the other. It was about integrity. And trust. Despite the heat in Nick’s affirmations of love, their value was tempered by distrust. A pollutant that weakened the steel, made it brittle and liable to break.