Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2)

by Su Williams

  “Remember the extra hole in the box? The one that looked like maybe there was another smaller pendant?” I asked. Nick nodded and inspected the spider. “That’s what it’s for—her different sizes. She doesn’t remember the details of her history or who possessed her—like she’s a clean slate with each new master. She only remembers her creator, and even that, she can’t or won’t show me. She’s centuries old, created by a magic that no one has seen or used in ages. She is bonded to me with blood and can draw memories from any blood sample. But she says she can gather memories with a simple touch and memoryprint as well. And she’s able to phase.”

  “She ‘says’?” he asked.

  “It’s the best way I know how to explain how she communicates,” I told him and slid the spider pendant into her box, feeling like I’d just released a piece of myself. We were connected now, blood-bonded. I couldn’t explain the magic. All I knew was that this magical creature was now such an integral part of me, I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I’d have to find a way to keep her with me always.

  * * *

  Later, as we sat in front of the fire, Nick cradled me against his chest and brushed the hair away from my face. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. I nuzzled his chest and grumbled my disagreement. “Emari…” I opened my eyes. The flames sparked and danced in his eyes. He drew me into him, and kissed me. His mouth was ardent and forceful. My lips parted to welcome his probing tongue. My hands roamed his chest, fingers outlined the muscle that lay tense beneath his sultry skin.

  Without warning, his breath caught in his chest and he recoiled from me like I carried the bubonic plague or something; a flash of fear blazed in his pupils before his gaze darted to the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  “It’s okay,” I told him. “I kinda liked it.”

  He flashed a shy smile but couldn’t keep my gaze.

  “Nick?” He remained still and quiet. “What is it you’re hiding from me? Why are you so afraid?”

  He swung me off his lap and leaned forward, ready to bolt. Preparations of a lie melded behind his eyes. Something was going on that he didn’t want me to know. “I can’t…” The rest of the words wrapped around his throat and lodged there.

  I grabbed his arm when he started to stand up. “Nick! Can’t what?!”

  He dropped his head into his hands and a quiet sob escaped the dam in his throat.

  My arms wrapped around him of their own accord. “Nick, honey, what’s wrong?”

  He turned into my embrace like a frightened child seeking refuge with his mother. “I can’t…” he choked out, and his body quaked in my arms.

  “Can’t what, honey?” Now I was afraid.

  “Emi, I am so sorry.”

  “Why? Tell me what you’re sorry for.” He clutched my body to his. “Nick, show me what you’re afraid of,” I coaxed.

  “I can’t…”

  “Please show me.” A tremor racked his body. “Please let me help.”

  “You can’t.”

  “‘I can’t’. ‘You can’t.’ That’s an awful lot of ‘can’ts’, Nick.” Maybe a little pissitude would wrench an answer out of him.

  His chest expanded in a bracing breath and his shuddering slammed to a halt. He released me, sat ramrod straight and adjusted his shirt. “I’m sorry, Em,” he said, all sober and serious now. “You should probably try to get some sleep. You’ll still need it more than Sabre and me.”

  “What? Like, seriously?”

  One corner of his mouth twitched up and he huffed an unamused laugh. “Yeah, like seriously. It’s fine. I just let stuff get to me sometimes. It’s fine.”

  Two ‘it’s fines’ was really not fine, like a double negative makes a positive. I scowled at him. “No. Seriously. It’s not fine.”

  Nick stroked my hand between his and I got the feeling he wanted to erase the whole episode from my mind. His fingers sparked against my skin and a flood of images assailed me.

  Nick’s hands bind my own. His lips speak violence. His hands speak pain. He hurts me. He takes me. Something I would willingly give him, but he takes by force.

  The gift of breath vanished, and my chest convulsed in agony. I whimpered and jerked my hand away from him. “No.” I didn’t understand. It didn’t make any sense. Nick would never…would he? “What the hell?”

  His brows crunched together, his face drained of color and his eyes widened with dismay. “Oh god. No.” Frantic and searching, his eyes implored me to understand. He reached a hand toward me but it was my turn to recoil from his touch.

  “What the fuck is that, Nick? Where did it come from?” His face contorted in anguish.

  “Emari. I…I didn’t want you to see that.” He stood and turned away from me. His voice was quiet, crushed under his guilt.

  “Of course you didn’t. Why would you want me to see such a vivid fantasy? Is that what you really think of me?”

  “Emi, no…” But he said no more. Nothing to defend himself, to explain.

  I withdrew to the window seat but didn’t sit down, just clutched a pillow to my chest to absorb the ache bleeding from my heart. “Is that your desire, Nick? Is that what you dream about?”

  His eyes filled with tears that spilled down his cheeks when he hung his head. His shoulders deflated and he squeezed his eyes closed, as if that would make the nightmare go away. “I would never…” he whispered.

  “But it’s in you. I saw it. I saw your dreams. Is that the truth you’ve been hiding from me for weeks?”

  “It’s not the truth, Em.”

  “Really? And yet there it is on the inside of you.” I couldn’t believe he could stand there in my presence and not own up to what I clearly saw in his memories of me. “Is that really what you think about doing to me, Nick?”

  “No, Em. Please. That’s not what I think. It’s…”

  Boiling inside, I couldn’t take any more. I raised my hand to silence him. “You can go now.”

  His mouth slammed shut. The dark empty pools of his eyes sparkled with tears. He shuffled to the door and clutched the knob like a life preserver. “Emi. I…”

  “Get out, Nick. Get out of my house.”

  “But Thomas…”

  “Get. Out!”

  And he went. With no argument. He just went. Out of my sight. Out of my house. Perhaps, out of my life.

  Chapter 20 Just A Kiss

  It’s all lies. I don’t really know him. How could I know him? I’ve only known him a few months. How do I know anything he tells me is the truth? That he’s not manipulating everything in my head? Lately, it seemed I had more questions than answers.

  I slouched onto the couch, still hugging a pillow to my chest. Like it could absorb the pain and betrayal that oozed from within. How could he think of me like that? How could he imagine recreating my worst nightmare—my worst reality in the name of love or whatever the hell he called it? How much had he hidden from me all this time—as he rummaged through my head? He picked through my memories; lived with me through the pain. How could he imagine himself in that place? That place of violence. That place I abhorred.

  I stared at the television, unseeing. Eddy snuggled at my side as though he sensed my mood. He was already getting too big for my lap. His warmth kept me thawed, saved me from freezing into a useless mess. Time ticked by unnoticed as I sat, numb and wounded at the same time. My cell phone rang—Ring ding ding ding dingeringeding. Despite my dark mood, I had to laugh. Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow. So stupid and dorky. How fitting.

  “Hey, girl.” My voice sounded empty despite my feigned enthusiasm.

  “Hey, Em. How’s about a girl’s night in? I don’t work ‘til late tomorrow.” I could actually hear Ivy bouncing with excitement.

  “Uh, don’t you have school tomorrow?”

  “Duh, no. It’s Saturday. Come on, Em. I hardly get to see you anymore.”

  The idea that I might de-materialize in front of her loomed fearfully over me as a very distinct possib
ility. Nick and Sabre had told me about waking up in ethereal form; how terrifying it could be. I was a little afraid to be alone when it happened to me for the first time. But if the guys could handle it, so could I. Couldn’t I? Wasn’t I a Bad Ass Bitch, now? A Bab. Besides, the thought of Nickolas Benedetti in my home, in my presence sent a blaze of rage through me. And Sabre wasn’t much better. He let me die and become this; performed unauthorized experiments on me. How could either of them be trusted at this point? How did I know if either or both of them were screwing with my memories all the time? Nick’s deception surpassed simply his secreted fantasies. He betrayed me. Betrayed my trust. Misled my heart with lies of undying love.

  “I don’t know…” I hedged.

  “Please. Please, please, please, please, please,” she begged. She knew I was sucker for her pouty face and I didn’t have to see it to know it was there. Sad Eddyson eyes, lower lip stuck out far enough for a bird to perch on.

  “Fine,” I contrived annoyance. “But I will not watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ again with you. Christmas is over.”

  “Fine. How ‘bout ‘Deathly Hallows’? Part one and two,” she suggested.

  “God, like we haven’t seen that one a bazillion times.” Actually, we’d bought early tickets and sat in line for five hours waiting to get good seats at the midnight release at the mall theatre. Our parent’s had been cool enough to let us skip school the next day, but we went anyway to compare notes with all the other Potter-heads. Huh. Who knew there really was magic?

  “So that’s a yes?” she pressed again but her enthusiasm wavered in her voice. What secrets was my bestie keeping from me?

  “Yeah, yeah. Come over whenever. I’ll make us some steaks or something.”

  “Okay, Sweets. I’ll see you in a bit. And I’ll bring the ice cream.”

  Yeah, Pink Bubble Gum ice cream from the shop at the Y sounded just like the cure.

  “‘kay, see ya.”

  * * *

  After a dinner of medium-rare steaks—Ivy snuck bites under the table for Eddyson—baked potatoes, steamed asparagus and bubble gum ice cream, Ivy and I lounged on the couch watching, for the billionth time, Deathly Hallows. Her head lay on my shoulder, her breath humid against my throat. She felt good tucked in beside me, like I could keep her safe from anything now. As the scenes rolled into the monotonous wandering part, I floated into sleep. Comfort ensconced me and I drifted in the safety and peace. But the peace was short-lived as a dream whirled around me.

  Ivy and I lounged on the couch. Deathly Hallows droned in the background. Her face hovered inches from mine. Her eyes, wide and warm, looked down into mine with the affection of a lover. Her hand was warm against my face, pressed to my cheek in a ardent embrace. Soft and sweet, her lips met mine, conveying intense passion. Trembling, her fingers traced the length of my neck, down my breastbone, and...

  I bolted upright and nearly dumped Ivy on the floor. I grappled her arms to keep her from falling.

  “What? What happened?” she asked, startled from sleep and breathless.

  “Oh,” I scrambled for an answer. “I, uh, just had a bad dream.”

  “Not the nightmares again.” She rubbed her eyes like a child awakened too early.

  “Uh, no. Just a weird one. So, hey. I should make us some popcorn to go with this movie.”

  “Be my guest, but I’m going back to sleep. You interrupted a great dream.”

  I cringed as I slid from her side and staggered to the kitchen. What the hell was that?! That couldn’t have been Ivy. It was just a strange dream. But it felt different than any dream I’d ever had. It felt...I raked my nails through my hair and tugged on fistfuls of copper locks. My brow crinkle in confusion as the images repeated over and over in my head. I don’t understand. What does that mean?

  Was Ivy gay? How could I not know that my best friend was gay? No. Couldn’t be. It was just a bizarre dream, that’s all. Not like everything in my life wasn’t completely… ‘strange’ just did not convey the amplitude of chaos at the moment.

  The images niggled at me, refused to be shoved aside. Was she in love with me? Is that why we had such a close physical friendship? Holding hands even in public. Hugging all the time. Cuddling on the couch. Sleeping in the same bed. No. No, no, no. I would know. Wouldn’t I? Is this what she was trying to tell me the other day at the mall?

  The dream—nightmare—whatever it was, replayed on unending loop as I prepared the miniature concession stand popcorn maker. Kernels began to pop and cascade like buttered snowflakes from the air pot. My heart raced in time with the exploding corn. Every small explosion sent ice rushing through me. I scraped my face with heels of my hands and cradled my cheeks in my palms, but this only conjured up reminders of Ivy’s scorching touch. With a resigned sigh that I couldn’t do this on my own, I retrieved my phone from its charger and slid it open. I was still angry with Nick, but I needed his help. I debated calling Sabre, instead. But I frankly trusted him less than I trusted Nick at this point.

  Nick. I need a favor.

  ANYTHING! He texted back.

  Don’t get ur hopes up. Still mad at u.

  As u wish.

  Can u come over? I need…just can u come?

  R u ok?

  Yes. No. Just come.

  OMW

  I slid my phone closed, and before I could scoop out all of the popcorn that I knew now I was never going to eat, Nick was at my door. My lips formed a straight line, my eyes avoided his. Which was good, because his gaze wandered in the general vicinity of the floor.

  “Come in,” I said and gestured into the toasty kitchen.

  He stepped over the threshold, silent and nervous.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, not mean or abrupt, just succinct.

  “I…um…could we go into the bedroom and talk. I don’t want Ivy to overhear.”

  He bit back a response, then nodded and followed me through the living room. “She’s asleep,” he commented.

  “Yes, but ‘just because someone’s asleep doesn’t mean their ears don’t hear’” I quoted him with a smirk.

  The bedroom was cool and quiet. I gently slid the door closed behind us and went to sit on the bed. I patted the comforter for Nick to join me.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “I, um, I saw something. I thought it was a dream but…” Uncertainty rattled my voice. “I’m just not sure. I just…I need to know if what I saw was real.”

  “All right,” Nick held out his hand to me. My throat knotted against a suppressed sob. “Emari, honey, what is it?”

  “It just—can’t be real.”

  “Just show me. Okay?” His voice did that hypnotic thing that always put me at ease.

  I nodded and my hand trembled above his. Did I really need to know this? Was it really that big a deal? Would it change anything between me and my best girl? Nick finally closed the distance and slid both of his hands around mine. Only hours ago, the heat of his touch would’ve wrenched my breath from me, but now, it twisted my gut. His body drooped with misery, but I pushed it aside and focused on Ivy. Images thrashed from my mind and heart, and a sob heaved my chest. Sugar sweet kisses, passionate fingers, a loving embrace.

  Nick’s hands lingered on mine as if he couldn’t let me go. I hid my fear behind closed eyelids.

  “Em? Do you really want to know?” His voice oozed with compassion.

  After long moments of silence, I finally looked him in the eyes, searched for what I didn’t want to know; what I should have known if I were any kind of a friend. “I feel like I really should know.” But I wasn’t sure if I meant that I wanted him to tell me or if, as Ivy’s best friend, I should’ve known if she was gay or not.

  “You aren’t wrong,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “No.” I knew what my parents taught me about homosexuality. The church we attended when I was younger spoke strongly against it. But this was my girl. My Ivy.

  “She’s done everything in her power to hide it from
you, afraid it would scare you away and you wouldn’t be her friend anymore.”

  “No.” I loved her like the air I breath, but the turmoil inside me stole even that away.

  “She loves you more than anyone in her world.”

  “I know. But I’m not…I don’t…” Heat rushed into my cheeks like fire. “I like boys!” I blurted out and hid my face in my hands. “How could I not know? What kind of friend am I if my best friend has to hide who she really is from me?”

  I felt the bed shift as Nick slid to the floor and knelt in front of me. “Emi, honey?”

  I couldn’t look him in the eye. What an epic failure.“What do I say to her? Nothing? Just let it ride? Pretend I don’t know anything?” Nick was silent, just stroked my hair. My arms ached to wrap around him. “I am a horrible, horrible friend.”

  His hand cupped the back of my head and he leaned closer. But his arms stiffened, resisting urges, too. “No, honey, you’re not. She’s done everything she can to hide it from you. She knows what you were taught. She loves you so much that she’d rather have you in her life with her secret, than not have you and her truth to be told.”

  A catatonic rock took over my body. Nick sat by silently, watching me, respecting the modest space between us.

  “Nick?” There was one more thing I had to know.

  “Yes.”

  “Where…” Bile twisted my stomach…His lips speak violence…and pushed up my throat…His hands speak pain. The images from Nick’s memories invaded my mind. He hurts me. He takes me. “I need…” I swallowed the bitterness that roiled in my stomach. Something I would willingly give him, but he takes by force. “Where did those images—in your head come from?” Please God, tell me he doesn’t really think of me like that.

  “I can’t…”

  “Nick, please...” And I fell apart. I wanted ‘normal’ back so bad it made me sick. I wanted my mom and dad. I wanted my life back. I wanted the raging chaos in and around me to blow over and return to something I could encapsulate in my heart and not have to chase after sanity. I wanted him to love me…but not like that.