Pleasures of the Night

by Sylvia Day

  But would be forced to lose when the night was over.

  Aidan held Lyssa’s damp body tightly to his, hearing the rasping of his own labored breathing, feeling her raging heartbeat against his chest.

  Around them, the soft summer breeze blew, cooling their burning skin. How long had it been since sex had truly satisfied him? He couldn’t remember. He knew only that it had never left him feeling like this.

  “Aidan,” she breathed in her soft, innocent voice, a sound filled with wonder and satiety.

  “Hmm?”

  She sighed and attempted to move off him. Unwilling to be separated, he turned carefully, keeping his cock buried deep inside her. Side by side they faced each other. He lifted a hand to brush the damp hair from her face, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. One of gratitude and joy.

  This morning, death had been almost welcome. Exhausted and disheartened, the flow of shadows from the Gateway endless, he’d wondered why he should keep fighting. What good did it do?

  Now it seemed so simple. His battle kept Lyssa safe, kept her alive and well. That was enough reason to go on.

  It was then that the rustling sounds of papers in her drawing pad caught his attention. He reached over her, his intent to tuck it beneath the blanket, when a soft gust of wind flipped the page. His heart stopped at what he saw, his chest tightening in the viselike grip of pure fear. Everything faded away, even Lyssa, as he stared at her drawings with horror such as he’d never known.

  Nightmares, the Gateway, endless years of death and war…None had struck terror in him like the sight of his own face staring back at him.

  “Lyssa.” His voice was low and gravelly, forcing him to clear his throat before he could go on. “Have you shown these to anyone else?”

  “What?” She nuzzled into his throat, her lips brushing against his skin. Golden hair flowed across the arm he used to hold her close, hair that smelled of flowers and hard sex, a potent combination that stirred him deep inside.

  “These pictures, have you shared them with other Guardians?”

  “No.” She pulled back, her dark eyes capped with a frown. “Why?”

  “We must destroy them.” His hands shook. What can I do?

  “Why?” She lifted her head to look at the image with a soft, adoring smile. “I told you the lighting was bad. I couldn’t make out your eye color in the candlelight. Your irises are such a deep blue, they looked dark. And your hair. The silver is so faint.” She glanced at him. “But I like it. In fact, it turns me on.”

  He inhaled sharply. All this time it had been his appearance she enjoyed so much. Even as masculine satisfaction spread warmth through his veins, the ramifications of her unique cognizance spread goose bumps across his skin.

  She winced. “Am I that far off from how you really look? I’m sorry. We’ll tear them up and throw them away.”

  Everything he knew, all the work of his friends and the Elders, all his training…For one thing…

  To kill the Key. A prophecy whose traits Lyssa displayed in abundance—she controlled the dream, she called him by name, she could see him. It was the last that was the most damning. That she could see into the Twilight. It was rare enough to find those Dreamers who recognized that they were dreaming and took control of the events. Never had they found a Dreamer who could see clearly into their world and comprehended that they were interacting with a real being. If the Elders learned of her abilities, they would kill her. Aidan himself didn’t know what to make of the revelation.

  But he’d think about it later. Right now he needed to find a way to keep Lyssa safe. Every time she fell asleep, she was in danger. Time was running out. If the Elders didn’t know what she was capable of yet, they soon would.

  “When the Guardians come to you, do they ask you to describe them? To draw them? Anything like that?”

  “Yes. Weirdos.” She wrinkled her nose. “I told them this isn’t a dog show. I’m not jumping hoops.”

  Aidan hugged her tightly to him. He couldn’t do a damn thing for her in the Twilight. By the time sleep brought her here, she was vulnerable. He had to protect her before she arrived. Before she fell asleep.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  If only there were more Guardians who harbored the same doubts he did, he could ask for their help. If enough of them approached the Elders as one voice, perhaps they would be heard. But if there were others like him, they guarded their thoughts as zealously as he had. As far as he knew, he was the only one to question the wisdom of the Elders.

  She could lock herself in again…

  But who knew how long it would take him to build support. She had been on the verge of losing her mind when he found her, a recollection that led him to a darker thought.

  Perhaps she hadn’t been hiding from the Nightmares. Perhaps all this time she had been hiding from him. From his kind. She’d been a child when she first erected the door. With her ability to see into the Twilight, she might have been frightened of the Guardians who came to see her.

  What the fuck was he going to do? He couldn’t take on both the Guardians and the Nightmares alone. If he couldn’t alter the Elders’ reasoning, there would be only one recourse.

  He would have to leave the Twilight. He would have to protect Lyssa from the Outside.

  There had to be a way to journey into her world. The Elders had created the fissure in abbreviated space that led them to this conduit. Surely they could do it again.

  He was about to find out.

  Despite the certainty he felt in his decision, he was aware of the ramifications. In addition to all the inherent risks, it would be only a temporary measure, a desperate tactic to buy Lyssa some time until he could figure out what to do. Figure out a way to convince the Elders of their grave error.

  “You’re thinking so hard, I can hear your brain ticking,” she said dryly, nipping at his jaw with her teeth. “Are you really upset about my pictures? I’m sorry. I—”

  “Lyssa, no.” He cupped the back of her head and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. “Don’t be sorry. The drawings are wonderful. I’m flattered.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “Everything, except you.” He met her frown with earnest intensity. “When I leave, you’re going to lock the door behind me, and you’re not going to let anyone in. Not even me.”

  “Huh?”

  His tone lowered, became more urgent. Even now, his skin crawled with the realization that Guardians were out there, hunting her with precision. “They’ll come. They’ll try to trick you into thinking it’s me at the door, but it won’t be.”

  “Aidan, you’re scaring me.” Her embrace tightened, saying without words that she trusted him to protect her.

  He would die trying. For him, the legend of the Key was in doubt, but it was woven into the very tapestry of their lives. Guardians risked their lives in pursuit of the Key. There was no alternative to them or the Elders. The Key must be destroyed. No questions asked. By joining with Lyssa, he, too, would be hunted.

  “Promise me you won’t open the door to anyone.”

  “All right, I promise.” She chewed her lower lip, her eyes shiny with unspent tears. “You’re telling me I won’t see you again, aren’t you?”

  “You’ll see me again, Hot Stuff.” He caught her face in his hands and kissed her with all the hunger she aroused in him. “But you won’t know who I am.”

  Chapter 5

  For an age now, the simulated lightening of the sky had filled Aidan with relief. It meant his shift was over. Another day had passed. He could travel up the hill to his home and try to forget that the endless days before him would be just like the last.

  But today the incremental passing of time set his heart pumping in unsteady measure. He paced his covered porch like a caged animal.

  Tick tock, tick tock. Like the clocks he had seen in the remembrances of Dreamers. In a matter of hours, Lyssa would fall asleep again, and someone would be sent to her. When she denied them entry, it
would force the collective hand of the Elders and they would go after her en masse.

  He had to find a portal between his world and Lyssa’s, and he had to find it now.

  The possible risks were no deterrent. Aidan was decided. There were no options, no choices. If he didn’t go, Lyssa would die.

  Where to begin? Aidan’s curiosity had led to months of researching data in the Hall of Knowledge, and he’d found only vague references to fissure creation in a few of them.

  Aidan didn’t have months.

  “You’ve got that look on your face,” muttered a voice behind him.

  Glancing aside, Aidan found Connor ascending the short steps to the porch. “I think I’ve found what some might consider to be the Key.”

  Connor reached the deck and shook off the dewy blades of grass that clung to his robe’s hem. “I thought you said the Key doesn’t exist.”

  “She doesn’t.” Aidan shook his head. “It doesn’t. Or if it does, it sure as hell isn’t Lyssa.”

  “Okay…?”

  “Lyssa can see me,” Aidan explained.

  Connor’s eyes narrowed. “You’re certain?”

  “She drew a picture of me.”

  The low whistle that rent the still morning was filled with things that did not need to be said aloud—surprise, worry, and a heavy dose of chastisement. “I hope you’re planning to step back and let the Elders take over. You should leave this task to someone else.”

  Aidan paused mid-step, his robes falling to rest around his ankles. “She is not going to die.”

  “Cross,” Connor warned in a low tone, “stop thinking with your dick.”

  “You know she’s not the Key,” Aidan growled. “There’s no way in hell Lyssa would open the Gateway. No way for her to even get there. Why should she die to perpetrate a myth?”

  “Can you say with absolute certainty that it’s a myth?” Connor ran his hand over his jaw. “You thought we’d never find a person with the traits, so of course it was all bullshit. But now you have found someone. If she’s real, maybe the prophecy is, too. Are you willing to risk everything and everyone we know for a piece of ass?”

  Clenching his fists, Aidan stared at his friend and felt the true weight of his convictions settle on his shoulders. If he didn’t have Connor’s support, he was completely on his own.

  “She’s not just a piece of ass. Say that again and see what happens.”

  “Awww, man.” Connor flinched and shook his head. “You’ve never given any other woman a chance. This is the first time you’ve spent more than a few hours with one. Trust me. They’re all great. If you want a steady fuck, any one of the single Guardians would volunteer. Shit, most of the partnered ones would, too.”

  “I’m sick of fucking.”

  Connor stilled, staring at him in obvious stupefaction. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

  Aidan’s laugh was harsh. “You know me, Bruce. Would I put anyone at risk without a damn good reason?”

  “Men aren’t the same when they’re pussy-whipped. You know that. You’ve seen it.”

  Walking to the end of the porch, Aidan set his hands on the wooden rail and watched as the sky grew lighter. Tick tock. He hadn’t yet bathed, and the scent of hard sex clung to his skin. It riled everything primitive within him, while thrusting home how unique Lyssa’s appeal to him was. Their time together was not something to be washed away and forgotten.

  “Look around,” Aidan said, his gaze moving over the rolling mountain view. “None of this is real. It’s all an illusion to keep us sane in this conduit.”

  “And you think what you have with this Dreamer is ‘real’?” Connor snorted. “It’s a dream, Cross. It’s all in your head. You’ve never touched her, kissed her, fucked her. You’re living in two different worlds. This, at least, is filled with people you know are ‘real.’”

  How could he explain? How could he put into words how Lyssa’s dream touch was so much more alive to him than another Guardian’s?

  “She’s a veterinarian.” Aidan faced his friend. “She has a way with animals and wounded souls. She loves pasta, especially when it’s served with cream sauce and sun-dried tomatoes. She drives too fast and gets a lot of tickets, but she doesn’t mind. ‘You only live once.’ That’s her motto. She loves the beach and margaritas, and looks sexy as hell in a bikini. She’s dating a guy named Chad and she likes him, but it’s me she wants.” The last made him smile.

  Connor sank to sit on the top step and dropped his blond head in his hands. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because she’s not just a Dreamer, she’s real. And when I’m with her, I feel real.”

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, Connor asked, “What will you do? It’s not as if you can pull her from her slipstream and hide her.”

  Aidan rested his hip against the rail and crossed his arms. “I have to keep Lyssa from entering the Twilight.”

  “How the fuck…?” Scowling, Connor shot to his feet. “No way! No way in hell. You don’t even know how the Elders created the fissure the first time.”

  “They know. It’s not as if I have a choice. I don’t have enough time to do anything productive here. On the Outside, I can—”

  “You can what? The answers you need are in here, not out there.”

  “Yes,” Aidan said quietly. “That’s true.”

  Connor’s eyes widened. “You want to drag me into this?”

  “I’m not asking you for anything. Except your discretion. But if you’re feeling altruistic and decide to help me, I won’t refuse.”

  “Cut the crap.” Connor shot him a scathing sidelong glance. “I’ve always been your second. Damned if I’ll stop now. Then it would be my fuckup instead of yours. And this…This, my friend, is all you.”

  Aidan’s mouth curved with a grateful smile.

  Descending the three short steps to the front lawn, Connor began prowling in obvious frustration. He moved with a warrior’s grace, despite his massive size, the weight of which compressed the grass beneath his feet and left a trail in his wake. “What do you need me to do?”

  “After I leave, find a way into the Temple of the Elders and access the database. See if you can find a way to bring me back. I’ve got an idea that will allow me to work on this while I’m gone, but you’re right. Most of what I’ll need will be here.”

  “What’s your plan for how you’re going to reach your Dreamer?”

  “It’s a poor plan, but it’s the only one I’ve got.”

  “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

  “Well, I imagine I’ll just grab an Elder and hold him hostage until he tells me what I need to do.”

  Connor jerked to a halt and gaped. “That’s your plan? Man…she really fucked your brains out.”

  “Got a better idea, smart ass?”

  “No.” Connor kicked at the grass. “But it’s a stupid plan. You have no idea if the Elders know what you’re after or not.”

  “Well”—Aidan shrugged—“I’m about to find out.”

  Dressed for battle in loose trousers and tunic, Aidan slipped into the Temple of the Elders on silent feet. He moved within the shadows, ever conscious of the vids that recorded every visitor.

  His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his heart slow and sure. He’d watched as the majority of Elders had departed, leaving behind the lone sentinel whose day it was to remain in secluded meditation. The single guard at the door was easily distracted by suspicious noises created by Connor, and Aidan slipped behind him and entered the cool, dark haiden.

  Tick tock. In the deathly silence of the stone edifice, the relentless dwindling of time was inescapable.

  Aidan traversed the long hallway that led to the honden—a separate part of the Temple complex he doubted had ever felt the feet of a Guardian. The floor beneath him began to waver, growing translucent, revealing a swirling kaleidoscope of colors. The part of him that questioned and researched everything wanted to linger and look, b
ut his heart urged him forward.

  He paused a moment on the threshold of an arched entryway, the hairs on his neck rising with acute awareness. The warning was clear, and he never doubted his instincts. When he leaped into the round room, he was prepared for the glaive that thrust toward him, knocking it aside with a perfectly aimed parry.

  He had only a split second to note the walls lined with bound volumes and a large console that dominated the center of the vast space before the gray-robed figure lunged at him again.

  “You trespass, Captain,” hissed the voice from the shadowed depths of the cowl. Lunging forward, wide sleeves falling back to reveal pale but brawny arms, the Elder fought with surprising ferocity.

  Which did not deter Aidan at all. Focused and determined, he was coldly calculated. He had no idea what fueled the Elder, but he was fueled by desperation. Since failure was not an option, he had nothing to lose.

  Forward and back, spinning and arching away from gleaming glaives in a macabre dance, neither took the advantage. Aidan wondered at this, his chest heaving only slightly from his exertions, his body too fit to feel even a hint of fatigue. He needed the Elder alive, but the Elder had no discernible reason for returning the favor.

  Soon the Elder, though skilled, began to tire. He was simply no match for an opponent who held a blade most hours and days of his life. He tripped on the hem of his robe and fell backward. As his arms flailed, his glaive flew from his hand and went skidding across the stone. Fighting for balance, he slapped his hand palm down on the surface of the center console, setting it ablaze in flashing lights.

  Aidan froze in mid-swing as he saw the face revealed when the gray hood was dislodged.

  “Master Sheron,” he breathed, his sword arm falling.

  Then he quickly raised it again, pressing the deadly point against the Elder’s rapidly pumping carotid when he reached for the touchpad. “Don’t.”