The Darkest of Dreams

by Emigh Cannaday

  “I thought you might be running late for work, so I brought you a cup of tea,” she said quietly from the floor. “I don’t know where it went.”

  Talvi blinked in confusion, then glanced around the living room until he spotted the mug lying on the floor behind his wife. There was a brown stain spattered all over the pristine white carpet and the white wall beyond, which he didn’t seem very concerned about. Instead, he knelt down in front of Annika, although he kept a safe distance from her. He was eyeing her strangely, as if he were half expecting her to follow through with her counter-assault.

  “I hurt you, didn’t I?” he said in a somber tone.

  “It’s not that bad,” she replied, trying to shrug it off. The truth was that it hurt a lot, although the pain was dissipating fast. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Technically it’s my fault since you were asleep. Tripp told me not to sneak up on you or make sudden movements, and I basically did the exact opposite of what he said to do.”

  Talvi frowned. He sat back on his knees and was silent for a long time.

  “That’s still no excuse for hurting you.” His dark brows furrowed as he turned away from her. She could see his eyelashes fluttering as he tried to keep his tears at bay. When he spoke again, his voice was trembling. “What if I’d turned off the lights and I mistook you for an intruder? What if I’d kept my knife under my pillow instead of under the sofa? Another few seconds and I’d have done you in like I did Stephan.”

  “But you didn’t,” she pointed out.

  “But I could have,” he insisted.

  “You didn’t hurt me,” she said, and craned her neck to look at the tea-stained carpet and wall.

  “That’s all I’ve ever done, is hurt you!” he snapped back at her. Before she had a chance to respond, he disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

  She sighed quietly and returned to the kitchen, then put the kettle back on the stove. It felt so strange to be standing there, surrounded by the familiarity of Talvi’s scent from sleeping in his bed, and yet simultaneously surrounded by the awkward space that now existed between them. Last night had been so easy to navigate once her initial anxiety had worn off. She figured some of it could be attributed to the impressive amount of champagne and wine flowing during those precious few hours together. As much as she disapproved of relying on alcohol as a crutch, she couldn’t deny it’s social and medicinal usefulness.

  As if answering a silent wish, Annika spied a half-empty bottle of St. Magdalene sitting on the counter. Scotch wasn’t her favorite, although that didn’t stop her from opening it. Notes of malt and fruit syrup greeted her nose and invited her to take a small sip. After bringing the bottle to her lips, a clean, numbing heat poured down the center of her tongue. When she finally swallowed the fiery elixir, it filled her chest with a radiant warmth. Then she took a larger sip. This time, she let the light and crisp flavors fill her mouth with their full-bodied lusciousness. Instead of swallowing right away, she let it roll over and under her tongue. It was pure liquid sensuality, and not for the faint of heart. No wonder this was her husband’s drink of choice.

  The kettle whistled and she prepared another cup of tea for him, making sure to top it off with the lively spirit. Then the bathroom door opened and Talvi emerged with a small towel in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. She watched as he went into the living room, knelt down to give the stained carpet a few generous spritzes, waited all of five seconds, and blotted up the mess. To her surprise, there was no trace of the dark brown spatters on the white carpet or the wall. He came into the kitchen, taking care to give her a wide berth as he set the glass bottle on the counter and rinsed out the towel in the sink.

  “Blood Banisher, huh?” Annika remarked after reading the product label. It was written in shiny red letters that were dripping in all the right places.

  “It works like a charm for all manner of things,” he said in a passive tone, wringing out the towel before setting it aside. “Blood, tea, chocolate, tomato sauce, wine… It’s a shame they don’t sell it here in your world.” He quickly washed and dried his hands, still making a point to stand at arm’s length from her. Before he had a chance to walk away, Annika handed him his new cup of tea, then picked up her own. His brooding expression brightened considerably as he inhaled the steam that rose from it.

  “You added honey and lemon, didn’t you?” he asked as he brought it to his mouth. “And something else, if I’m not mistaken?” No sooner had she grinned and pointed to the bottle, that Talvi’s darkened with an ominous glance. “Oh dear…” His face adopted an air of both amusement and concern as he sized up the mug in his hands. He took a long drink and savored it slowly before swallowing it down. “I best make certain to enjoy every last drop. This cup is likely worth at least ten pounds.”

  Annika shot him an incredulous look.

  “Ten pounds for a single shot? Why’s it so expensive?”

  “Because that particular bottle of St. Magdalene is as old as you are.” He nodded towards the bottle sitting on the counter and then took another drink. “I’m all for having a splash of something in my morning tea, although perhaps next time you’ll opt for something less dear.”

  Annika shook her head, silently scolding herself. Then she smiled.

  “Oh? Does that mean there’s going to be a next time?”

  “Not if you can’t tell the difference between good Scotch and the shite I normally put in my tea.” He raised a wary brow at her. “Let’s keep this just between us, shall we?”

  “Sorry,” she said, eyeing the mug in his hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s way too early to be drinking Scotch.”

  “Not if you’re a Marinossian,” he said with a rueful grin. “We excel at overindulgence.” She set her mug down on the counter next to him, not expecting the slight twinge to be lingering in her wrist. Her reaction had just enough of a gasp and a frown to get his attention without being melodramatic. And even though the wince on her face was barely perceptible, Talvi specialized in noticing barely perceptible things. Just as Annika expected, he took on a solemn expression once more. Unable to find the words he struggled for, he swallowed another mouthful of liquid courage, set down his mug, and then held out his hand.

  “Would you let me have a look at your arm? I hope to the gods that it isn’t broken.”

  She nodded and took a step closer to him, slowly extended her right forearm, and let him take it into his warm hands. He frowned as he examined it carefully, and she watched with curiosity as his fingers traced the blue paths of her veins and the bones and tendons underneath the skin. She closed her eyes, sensing that the heat of the scotch and the alertness of the caffeine had completely soaked into her blood. Even though her arm was sore, his healing touch was working additional wonders on it. The longer he held her, the more that the rest of her body craved the kind of careful handling that this one limb was receiving.

  How long had it been since she’d been touched so tenderly by those hands? Half a year, give or take a week or two. How long had it been since someone had touched him the same way? Maybe the same amount of time? Tripp had warned her that Talvi might be different after having no contact with anyone for so long, other than to be handcuffed and beaten, and then receive a few paltry handshakes after being released. The hugs from his family weren’t nearly as intimate as the type of contact she had in mind.

  She thought of their incredible conversation from the previous evening where he admitted that he’d failed to protect her, and pointed out that the knowledge of their prophecy had stolen the romance from their courtship. She thought about how he insisted that he wanted to be nothing more than friends with her, and how he’d minded his manners last night. Then she thought of all those books on relationships that were stashed underneath his bed, along with all his notes written in the margins. Those weren’t notes made about anyone else but the two of them.

  “I think you want us to be a lot more than just friends,” she cautio
usly ventured. “I think we can make this work if you give it a chance.” He let go of her arm, took a step back, and reached for his cup of tea.

  “Did you not hear me when I said that I’m sick of hurting you?”

  “I heard you loud and clear,” she said, gathering up all of her inner strength. “I’ve hurt you too. I think that’s what happens when you love someone long enough…eventually you’re going to let each other down. But we can lift each other back up and get through it. We could get through anything, if we really wanted to.”

  Staying mindful so as not to scare him away, she took a small step closer and reached down to scratch her upper thigh, lifting her skirt just high enough to reveal a flash of her pale skin. It was a calculated move, and it worked. She nearly squealed out loud with joy when his gaze immediately dropped to follow the curve running along the outside of her hips.

  “I know you’re trying to seduce me,” he murmured, then took another drink of his tea. “I’ll kindly remind you that I wrote the bloody book on how to do it. You can’t outfox me with a short skirt or by refusing to go back to your hotel. Speaking of which, what time is your flight home?”

  “I don’t have one,” she said, grinning even wider at his surprised reaction. “I told Tripp and Adams that we weren’t leaving until I got what I came for.”

  “Truly? I didn’t think you had it in you to be so bold.”

  Sleep deprivation would’ve been a convenient excuse for her brazen attitude, but the truth was that her body ached for him to reach out and touch her all over—and when he failed to do so, it only made her ache even more. She was standing so close to him that she could feel the heat coming off of his skin. It was like holding her hand over a flame; the more time that passed without contact, the hotter the intensity of anticipation burned. Now that she was no longer human, she could easily notice the subtle changes in his face, the dilating of his pupils, and the pulse from the vein in his neck pumping more oxygen into his blood stream. He could keep insisting that he didn’t want her, and she could almost believe it, but the truth was that Annika knew him better than he knew himself.

  “I do have it in me,” she confirmed. “Although I didn’t have the heart to tell you this over the phone, but the truth is that I really, really don’t want to be your friend.”

  “Then we are at an impasse,” he said with a shrug before finishing his tea.

  “How do you explain all those relationship books underneath your bed?”

  “Simple. They’re not mine,” he insisted. She kept waiting for him to run his fingers through his hair and reveal that he was lying, but all he did was hold onto his cup and study her expression.

  “Don’t lie to me, Talvi. I saw your handwriting all over them.”

  She turned up her chin to look him squarely in the eyes. Could she be capable of conveying so many emotions? Longing? Desire? Vulnerability? Love? She moistened her lips and gave him a warning look.

  ”You can lie to yourself all you want…but don’t you dare lie to me. Not about something like this. I know you think you’re trying to keep me safe by keeping us apart, but if I wanted safety then I wouldn’t have married you.” She’d practiced her speech hundreds of times, and she hoped that it didn’t sound rehearsed. “If I wanted somebody safe then I would be with somebody else. I wouldn’t be here.” Talvi didn’t say a word, although if Annika ever had his complete and undivided attention, it was now. With her confidence bolstered, she took a deep breath. “I’m with you because I don’t want every single day to be exactly the same. I want us to go on wild adventures together and live our lives to the fullest…together. I know you’ve spent time thinking about how to make this work—I saw the notes you wrote in the books you’ve got stuffed underneath your bed. Maybe I’m wrong, though. All I know is that if I can’t be with you, then I don’t want to be with anybody else.”

  Talvi’s mouth was pressed into a flat line, as if he was biting his tongue or trying to keep his lower lip from trembling. Annika gave him a demure smile and slowly ran her fingers through her long red hair. She let them catch on the modest neckline of her dress, then pulled her hand away to outline the curves of her body for his viewing pleasure. Judging by the look on Talvi’s face and the bulge in his shorts, he clearly needed no more convincing of the physical temptation standing before him. Now she had to convince his mind that it was safe to trust his instincts. If she coaxed him in the right direction, it wouldn’t take more than a gentle nudge on her behalf.

  “Would you rather be with someone else?”

  “No,” he finally said in a broken whisper. The instant the words left his mouth, his blue and green eyes began to water. Annika stepped closer, watching the shift in his expression. Instead of a cavalier grin or even a stoic essence about him, there was now a hesitant, yet hopeful smile on his face.

  “Then let’s not be with anybody else,” she said, and gently took the mug out of his hands and set it aside. “Let’s be together.” His lips parted in a silent gasp of disbelief or misery, or both. The suffering was real—it was the pain of a broken heart and a shattered soul being put back together piece by piece.

  “I don’t want to hurt you again,” he warned her. Annika shook her head and moved another inch closer.

  “Talvi…it hurts more to be apart, and we’re going to make mistakes with each other for the rest of our lives,” she pleaded. “I know we’ll get better with time if you just give us another chance. I’m not walking away from you without knowing that I gave it a hundred percent.”

  Against her bodyguard’s advice, she reached up and toyed with Talvi’s overgrown, messy hair, then rubbed his ear until he closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side. The longer she cradled his face, the more she could practically see his resolve melting away. He probably hadn’t been touched like that since the last time she’d seen him. After all those months locked up alone and devoid of all contact, she wanted nothing more than to cover every inch of his body in kisses and caresses. She wanted to love him in every way possible, both inside and out. She wanted to see all the darkest parts of him right along with the rippling, sleek, muscular parts that were right in front of her face. She wanted to know him at the most primal, hidden level. He brought her hand up to his face and nuzzled into it, then opened his eyes.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes! Besides…I read in one of your books that make-up sex actually works. I’m dying to find out if it’s true.”

  The space between them was growing smaller. The heat between them was growing hotter. Annika couldn’t have looked away from him even if she wanted to. The scent of him filled her senses and the heat of his body pulsated like a furnace on that cold February morning. Her mind became lost in those fascinating hues of green and blue and the infinite mystery of the darkness at the center of his soul. The colors of that abyss grew larger and deeper and darker than anything else she could imagine. And then the fragile moment was decimated by a wicked gleam in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in months.

  “I’m curious myself, although I have to tell you something since we’re being so brutally honest with one another,” he said, then knelt down in front of her. His hands encircled her waist and then slid down to her ass, cupping it underneath the short hemline of her dress. He raked his fingernails across the soft, round curves before slipping his left hand between her legs. Even on one knee, he was still taller than her, and even though he was only touching her with a few firm fingertips, she knew that the full scope of his strength and power was barely contained underneath the cool, muscular surface.

  He cast her a barely perceptible dark smile as his fingers tugged the crotch of her wet lace thong to one side. She sighed when his fingers spread her apart and dipped inside of her aching body, searching for the source of her frustration and discomfort. They found the bundle of nerves near her entrance while his thumb worked on the little knot of flesh above it. She braced herself on his broad shoulders, arching her back in bittersweet relief.

&n
bsp; “You were saying?” she managed to ask in between soft shudders from his touch.

  “I was saying that if you ever walk into my place of employment again wearing this excuse of a frock, there will be consequences.”

  Annika couldn’t help grinning at how serious he was acting.

  “Ooh…what’ll you do if I wear it again?” she taunted. “Will you take me to your office and give me a piece of your mind?”

  “No, I won’t waste the time taking you to my office,” he replied in that velvety smooth voice of his. “I’ll bend you over the first chair I see and fuck some common sense back into you. Perhaps I’ll fuck you on one of the study tables instead. Better yet, I’ll fuck you up against the wall of the glass elevator so that everyone you put on a show for yesterday will understand that everything between these legs is mine.”

  “I didn’t mean to flash all your coworkers—that was an accident!” she reminded him, breathing harder.

  “Yes, however, your choice of clothing was no accident. You had precisely one intention by wearing it—and it worked.”

  “Then what are you complaining about?” she cried out in mock irritation. “I thought you liked this dress!”

  “I do like it,” he said with a nod of approval while he continued to work his skilled fingers on her. Meanwhile, his right hand ran up and down her waist before resting on her ass and bringing her closer. “The problem is that most of the blokes who saw you in it liked it almost as much. And since you chose little more than this tiny scrap of lace for an undergarment, most of them are convinced that you weren’t wearing any knickers underneath it at all. Now, I don’t care for a bloody second what they think about you or what they think about me. All I care about is that they understand that you belong to me. With the way some of them were talking about your ass, they might need a reminder that it also belongs to me. I’d be more than happy to show them how deeply I feel about the subject.”