by Megan Hart
She cried out again, in surprise and ecstasy at the same time. And laughed. Butler was a back door man? She’d never have thought it, but then there wasn’t time to think of anything, because she was coming harder than she ever had in a dream or real life.
Butler shouted hoarsely, hips bucking. She felt his orgasm ripple through his throbbing cock and the beating of his heart. Their eyes locked as they both swam in the ocean of desire they’d created, the bed still beneath them and yet gone at the same time.
They’d fucked themselves into an utter lack of surroundings. Blackness. Fading at the edges, the hint of landscapes, nothing but the two of them connected. Mouths fused, arms entwined, cock in cunt and everything pleasure. Only that.
She found her way back to herself some time later, her head resting on his shoulder, her leg thrown over his. Butler stroked her hair. They were on the bed again, this time in a normal-looking bedroom. His, maybe, she thought.
“Mariella,” he said, and again with a sigh. “Mariella, Mariella, Mariella.”
“What, honey?”
“I like the taste of your name. I like everything about you.” He rolled on top of her to kiss her.
The bed shook from the slamming of a door. Confused, Mariella tried to see what was going on, but with Butler on top of her, could only glimpse a shadow behind him. It stretched to the ceiling.
Black wings.
“Shit,” she cried when they both finally turned to see that angel-thing again.
Crimson burning eyes, a slash of a mouth with white, pointed teeth. Its voice a bubbling horror. “Butler is not for you!”
It came at them, claws out. Mariella took Butler’s face in her hands, holding him, looking into his eyes. She kissed him.
“You need to wake up, baby. Wake up now.”
“But—”
“Now,” she cried and pushed, pushed as hard as she could.
Then he was gone, and the angel-thing was on top of her.
* * *
Butler woke with a hoarse gasp, choking. The last thing he remembered from the dream was Mariella telling him to go. Something was coming after them. A monster? That didn’t feel right. Something else. Big and strong, he knew that much. Heart pounding, he shifted in the bed, disoriented. The light was wrong. The angles.
He wasn’t in his own bed, Butler realized, but in Mariella’s. The night before came back to him. Making out with her, then getting into bed and falling asleep to the sound of her soft breathing, hoping she didn’t notice his rock-hard erection. Hoping even more he didn’t embarrass himself with it in the night, though he was pretty sure it had helped the dream he’d been having. It had been spectacular, until the end.
Beside him, Mariella moaned, and not in a sexy way. She thrashed suddenly, punching at the air, swinging and narrowly missing him when he sat up to touch her shoulder, hoping to gently wake her up. Butler pulled back, but kept his hand on her.
“Mariella. Hey. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
She swung again, struggling against both his hand and the twisting blankets. She screamed, low and hoarse. The sound of it sent skittering tension all through him. He grabbed her, no longer caring if she hit him, just wanting to wake her up. He shook her.
She opened her eyes. Then gasped and clung to him, shaking. He held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring what he hoped were soothing words into her ear.
She calmed. “I’m sorry, it was a bad dream.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She hesitated. “No.”
“Do you think you can go back to sleep? It’s only just dawn.”
She clung to him a little harder. “I can try. Will you hold on to me?”
“Of course.”
They settled down together, spooning. Butler stroked her side, over her hip, then back up. Selfishly, he buried his face in her hair to breathe her in. She softened against him. He was anything but soft. After a minute, when he thought for sure she’d fallen back to sleep, Mariella rocked against him.
Butler drew in a breath. He thought he heard her sigh, but couldn’t be sure. She did it again, pressing her glorious ass, clad only in thin pajama bottoms, against his crotch. Then again, and he was pressing back against her, a hand flat on her belly. She put her hand on his, moving it upward to cup her breast, and he was lost.
In the dream, which had been fading once he woke, everything had been fluid and easy. In real life, they pressed and pushed, rocking. He moved on top of her, cock achingly hard but with the barrier of their clothes keeping him from touching skin on skin. His mouth found hers, the kiss deepening. Mariella put her arms around him, holding him close.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh...like that.”
He couldn’t tell if he were hitting the right spot, not with the clothes in the way, but judging by her reaction he was doing something right. And frankly, he’d gone to sleep hard and woke with a semi; it took almost no effort to bring him to the brink just by rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. Butler shuddered, bending to nip at her throat. Her answering moan took him over the edge, and he could only hope she was going over, too.
They both quieted after that. He looked down at her, chagrined. Mariella, still holding him, smiled.
“Not how I wanted the first time to go,” he said.
She pushed up on her elbows to kiss him. “Don’t worry. There’ll be other times.”
Then she pulled him down next to her and they burrowed under the blankets, tightly entwined.
* * *
It had been only a week, but already this felt more than a little like forever. Mariella scolded and tried to talk herself out of it, but there was no keeping her from it. Butler Meadows had filled up her world, and she didn’t want to let go.
Today he’d asked her to meet him at his office so they could go to lunch. He hadn’t seemed to think it was a big deal, but to Mariella it was almost as nerve-wracking as being asked to meet his parents—which he’d planned for the upcoming weekend. Maybe, she thought as she pushed the elevator button, she’d filled up his world a little bit, too.
“Hi,” she said to the young woman standing in the foyer as Mariella got off the elevator. “I’m looking for Butler Meadows.”
“Is he expecting you? Do you have an appointment?”
Mariella looked for a reception desk on this floor, though there’d been one in the lobby and she’d been directed by the man there to simply head upstairs. “Um...yes, he is.”
“Hey, Kacey. I’m here.” Grinning broadly, Butler rounded the corner. He didn’t kiss her, and she hadn’t expected him to. That wasn’t his style. But he squeezed her shoulder. “Mariella, Kacey and I are on the same team.”
“Nice to meet—” Mariella’s words cut off at the look in Kacey’s eyes. Bitterness. Anger. Grief.
Jealousy.
And something else was there, too, a flash of crimson and black wings. Mariella stumbled back a step before Butler came after her. He looked concerned, taking her by the elbow.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just a little...hungry.” Mariella gave Kacey a long, hard look.
The other woman was a shaper. Mariella had met shapers in the real world before. A shared glance in a crowded shopping mall, the recognition of a face when she stepped up to pay for a purchase. She knew of one famous celebrity who was also a very skilled shaper, one who made it a point to spend his time in the Ephemeros helping the dreamers achieve what they wanted. But she’d never had met a shaper in the waking world who’d tried to kill her inside the realm of dreams.
It was clear Kacey knew Mariella, too. Whatever boldness the other woman had in the Ephemeros, though, she didn’t maintain here. Unless looks could kill, which they couldn’t, and words could only sting.
“Oh. So...this...is your new gal pal.” Kacey’
s curled lip said it all.
And who used terms like gal pal, really? Mariella kept her expression pleasant. Perky, even. She slipped a hand into Butler’s. “Yep. He’s my main squeeze.”
Kacey recoiled. She turned to Butler. “Lasenby said he wants those updates on his desk by the end of the day.”
“I thought we had until the end of the week.”
“No. End of day.” Kacey gave Mariella another hard look, then one to Butler. “Hope that doesn’t screw up your lunch.”
Butler, bless his heart, didn’t seem to notice the tension. He shrugged. “I’m on top of it.”
“Not the only thing you’re on top of, apparently.” With that, Kacey left.
Mariella gave Butler a look. “Old girlfriend?”
“No!” Butler punched the elevator button and turned to her with a grimace. “Kacey? No way. Why would you say that?”
“She’s acting like one.”
In the restaurant, Butler said suddenly, though at least half an hour had passed since the previous conversation, “What did you mean about Kacey?”
Mariella had been willing to let it go. If he didn’t see it, there wasn’t any point in forcing the issue. And it wasn’t like she was jealous. Nor could she tell him about the dreams without sounding insane. “Just that she obviously is into you.”
Butler hesitated. “No...”
“Yes,” Mariella said. “Totally.”
“That’s weird.” He paused again, thinking. “I had a dream, once. I asked her to marry me, but when she said yes, I started running away screaming.”
“And what did she do? In the dream.”
“She said I’d be sorry.” He frowned, too. “Weird.”
“Yeah. Weird.” Mariella kept her voice light.
The conversation turned to other things. The lunch was wonderful, but even better was the twenty minutes they spent in Butler’s car making out in the parking lot. He moaned her name into her ear when she brushed his erection through his khakis, and every muscle in her body tensed. Every nerve tingled.
“I have to get inside,” Butler said.
“I wish you were inside me,” was her reply, and they both laughed, but sighed at the same time.
He kissed her again. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“You will?” She sat back, eyebrows raised. “You think so, huh?”
Butler grinned. “If not for real, I bet in my dreams.”
He had no idea, she thought as they got out of the car so they both could head back to work.
* * *
“You can’t just fire me,” Butler told Lasenby. “Not for coming back from lunch a few minutes late.”
Lasenby thumped a thick folder onto the desk. “It’s not about that, Meadows. Simply put, your work’s been sliding into the shit pit for weeks. You’re team leader on this project, and guess what? It just tanked. Which means, my friend, you’re out.”
Butler’s hands fisted. “Nothing tanked. I’ve been on top of this since day one!”
“Sorry, man. This says otherwise.” Lasenby flipped open the folder to hand him a paper listing missed deadlines, inaccurate results, botched updates.
Butler scanned it, then looked at Lasenby in shock. “None of this is accurate. Where did it come from?”
“Kacey’s been doing your backup for months, buddy. Finally, when you didn’t get the work to me when I needed it, I managed to find out the truth, how you’ve been slacking off. All the stuff that’s been covered up.”
“Covered up... What the hell are you talking about, Lasenby?”
Lasenby gave Butler the shittiest of shit-eating grins. “It’s all right there. Take it up with Human Resources, but since we have proof of you breaching confidentiality, you’ll just be wasting your time.”
Bile surged into Butler’s throat. “I never did anything like that.”
“All right there in the files, buddy. Take ’em on home. Oh, and hey, don’t bother going back to your desk. I’ll have security escort you out.”
* * *
“Like I was a criminal.” Butler’s voice was raw. His gaze weary. She’d gone to his house immediately after work when she got the call from him that he’d been fired. Now he looked close to tears. “I’ve never been fired.”
“You didn’t do any of the stuff in that file,” she told him.
“I can’t prove that. It’s all there, black and white.” With a groan, Butler leaned forward to scrub at his eyes. “Shit, Mariella. I didn’t breach confidentiality, but there are all the emails, right there. Sent from my account, my signature. I can’t prove it wasn’t me.”
“Who do you think it was? Lasenby?”
“That guy?” Butler snorted derision. “He’s not smart enough to pull off something like that.”
“Is there anyone in the office who is smart enough? And might have a grudge?” Mariella knew already who she suspected, but she didn’t want to lead him to it. He had to go there on his own.
Butler didn’t take much leading. “Shit. Kacey. But...why?”
“Hell hath no fury,” Mariella murmured.
“Shit.” Butler again buried his head in his hands. “I still have no way of proving it. The only way would be is if she owned up to it, and she’ll never do that.”
Mariella touched his shoulder. “I think I know a way.”
* * *
“I was ten when I fell on the playground. Knocked myself out cold. Got a concussion, cracked skull, the works. Overnight hospital stay. It was there I first realized I could...shape.” Mariella hesitated, her voice scratchy but then getting stronger as her chin lifted and she looked him in they eyes. “Dreams.”
“I don’t get it.” Butler’s stomach still twisted about being fired and figuring out that Kacey had been behind it.
“The dream world is a real place. It’s called the Ephemeros, and we all visit it in our dreams. But some people can shape what happens there. It’s more than lucid dreaming, which is where you’re aware you’re dreaming and can control, to some extent, what happens. Shapers can actually mold the dream world. Control it. Pull and push it into whatever they want, if they want it hard enough. Everything that happens in dreams is the result of a collective desire. Most of the time, for most people, it’s unconscious. Subconscious, really. You go into a dream, and your mind creates the scene you need to work through. Or want to. The difference is that shapers can make that happen not just for themselves, but for others, too.” Mariella paused to let out a slow breath. She took his hands, squeezing, searching his gaze.
Waiting for him to believe her, he realized.
“You’re talking to someone who deals with equations and structure,” he said after a long moment. “You’re asking me to believe in something out of...well. A dream.”
“Two nights ago, you dreamed of us making love. In your bedroom. There was a creature there, an angel-thing with black wings—”
Butler stood, backing away from her. “How do you know that?”
“I was there, Butler.” Mariella didn’t stand. Her mouth thinned at his reaction, but she didn’t try to reach for him again. “In the dream.”
“Yeah. I mean. You were in the dream, but...how did you know?”
“I was there,” she repeated softly. “In your dream. I’ve been in a lot of them.”
This twisted him again. Harder, this time. “After we met on FindADate?”
“Yes, after.” Mariella swallowed hard, but didn’t look away from him. “And before, too.”
His throat stung. Burned. Bitterness on his tongue threatened to choke him. Heat rose in his chest to his face, not the erotic spread of desire, but embarrassment as he remembered dreams of being naked in school, of flying, of losing his teeth. And others, more recent, all featuring a woman who might’ve had differe
nt hair and slightly different features, but was always the same one.
“Millie,” he said. “Mariella.”
He had to turn his back on her then. He didn’t want to look at her. He thought he heard her say his name, but he still didn’t turn.
Asking the question meant he accepted what she’d told him. That insanity. The dream world, a real place? Controlling dreams, he knew that was possible. But sharing them? Butler wasn’t sure what to think about that. Still, he had to ask.
“Is that how you found me?”
“Yes.”
He shivered with distaste. Frowning, he faced her. “I think you should go now.”
Mariella looked stricken, but stood. Stiffly, as though it hurt her. “Butler, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He swallowed more bitterness, thinking of how perfectly she’d matched everything he’d ever wanted. “Using what I told you in a dream to make sure you became my perfect dream girl?”
“That’s not...” Her voice cracked and hitched. “Butler, please. I didn’t...”
“But you did. You are my perfect dream girl. But none of it was real, was it?” He wanted to puke. “None of it was real.”
“All of it was real!” she cried. “All of it was still me, Butler!”
He couldn’t believe he was even arguing with her about this whole dream world nonsense. What had she called it? The Ephemeros? Butler didn’t believe in fairy tales or ghost stories or the chupacabra. But, despite all that, he believed in this.
He just didn’t know how he could believe her.
“I think you should go,” he said again. “I need to think about this.”
Mariella nodded. She hesitated at the door without looking back at him, as though hoping he’d call her back. He didn’t. He couldn’t.
“Okay. If that’s what you want,” she whispered, her voice tear-thick.
“It is.” It wasn’t. Watching her walk out the door was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.
The problem was, he couldn’t be sure which world she was really a part of.
* * *
It began, as it almost always did, on the sand.