Dream Warriors 3_Kane

by Cyndi Friberg

  “What the hell?” she whispered in disbelief.

  He grabbed her by the hair. Her sharp jabs and vicious kicks had no effect on his actions. He turned her to face Beth, his hand clamped over her mouth. Beth struggled in one man’s arms while the other taunted her with a knife.

  The man holding Dora laughed. His fetid breath gagged her. She tugged against his hold on her hair. Stinging pain erupted across her scalp. Everything was the same!

  I tried to warn you. This is more memory than dream. These images are indelibly imprinted on your mind. Give me something to work with. You don’t need to watch her die.

  Again, Dora finished for him. Beth’s screams followed her as the image faded to black. Velvet tranquility surrounded her for a moment then she materialized on the large training mat in her dojo. She trembled, infuriated by her helplessness.

  “Your mind wouldn’t let me --”

  She spun to face the intruder, kicking his legs out from under him. He landed with a grunt on his back, his head smacking against the mat. Dora straddled his chest. Her knees pinned his arms to the floor.

  “Why can I see you now?” She positioned her fist above his throat.

  Fierce dark eyes dominated his strong, masculine features. Long black hair spilled across the mat. Despite her focus, her pulse leapt. She recognized a kindred sprit. He was a warrior, a man ruled by discipline, calm and assured.

  He didn’t struggle. His gaze studied her, assessed her as she assessed him.

  “I’m not a part of what happened in the park. Your mind wouldn’t let me in.” His casual tone provoked her. Why didn’t he perceive her as a threat?

  “Who are you?”

  “Who I am is irrelevant. I need to know exactly where you are.”

  “This is my dojo.” Why did she feel so -- strange? “I bought it when my sensei retired.” Even knowing the fact was irrelevant didn’t keep her from speaking the words. Warmth radiated from his body -- or was her body emanating the heat?

  “Let me up. I find this position distracting.”

  His gaze focused on her crotch, and pleasure curled up through her body. This wasn’t right! She didn’t have erotic dreams. Her opinion of men had been shaped by her sister’s murder. After years of counseling and three unsatisfying relationships, she’d come to the conclusion that sex was grossly overrated

  “Am I still dreaming?” She looked around, ignoring his directive. “This doesn’t feel like a dream anymore.”

  He flexed his arms, effortlessly lifting her entire body. Cupping her butt, he flipped her backward onto the mat and came down on top of her. She gasped. His mouth curved in a triumphant smile. “I only ask once.”

  His aggression sent desire spiking through her body. She panted, inadvertently filling her nose with his evocative scent. Her body throbbed; her breasts ached. What the hell was causing this?

  Driven by some unseen force, she curved her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled his head down toward hers. His lips parted, and she thrust her tongue into his mouth, stroking and tasting. She arched, grinding her pelvis against his. Why wasn’t he returning her kiss?

  He tore his mouth from hers and turned his face to the side. “You must stop.”

  Dora stroked his chest, his shoulders, his muscular arms, fascinated by the shape and the texture of his body. She needed more, she needed all of him. Nibbling at his neck, she rubbed her mound against his burgeoning erection.

  “Touch me,” she pleaded “I want you to.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing.” He dragged her hands away from his chest.

  Hooking her legs over his thighs, she flipped him onto his back. She straddled his hips and frantically worked the knot securing her belt.

  “Dora, stop this!”

  She opened the front of her gi, pushed up her sports bra, and guided his hand to her breast. “I need this. I need you.”

  He moved his hands to her waist and held her away from him as he sat. She wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing his hand back to her breast. With a strangled groan, he pulled her bra back into place and framed her face with his hands.

  “Listen to me.” Determination ignited in his gaze, but she couldn’t think beyond her desire. “You have to slow down.”

  “Kiss me. I want your tongue in my mouth.”

  His lips covered hers briefly, the kiss gentle and patient “Aggression fuels the compulsion,” he whispered. “Try to relax.”

  “I can’t.” She trembled, tangling her hands in his hair. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Release my hair, and I’ll show you.”

  She didn’t want to turn him loose. She wanted to strip him naked and explore every inch of his body. God, he was gorgeous. He was also forceful and barbaric, everything she avoided in a man. So why did she burn for his touch? She unclenched her fingers and allowed his hair to slip from her grasp.

  Unwrapping her legs from around his waist, he stood and helped her to her feet. Her gaze swept the length of his tall form. Dressed in an open vest and black leather pants, he intensified the ache between her thighs with every move he made. She needed him thrusting hard and fast, filling her… No!

  “Zared, I command you to manifest.” The warrior spoke with absolute authority.

  Nothing happened.

  “Zared, come forth!”

  “Who is Zared?” A faint shadow appeared between them as she spoke the name, then blinked out of sight. Dora took slow, deep breaths, determined to overcome the fire raging in her blood. She overlapped the front of her gi and retied her belt.

  “Say it again.”

  “Say what?”

  “Zared. By speaking an incubus’s name he must obey you.”

  “Zared, show us where you are.” She was more concerned with the desire coursing through her body than hunting a ghost, but this seemed important to the warrior. Incubus. He’d called it an incubus. Weren’t they the sexual predators of dreamland? “Zared, get your ass out here!”

  The shadow appeared again, on the far side of the room. A shape struggled within the shadow, fluxing in and out of focus.

  “Zared, solidify.” Dora strode across the mat as the incubus took shape, the warrior half a step behind her. The burning intensified as she drew near, confirming her suspicion that the entity was responsible for the compulsion.

  Though Zared’s face remained distorted, his body obeyed her command. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him onto the mat. “You like playing mind games with women?”

  “I will take care of this,” the warrior said. She ignored him.

  Maintaining her hold on Zared’s wrist, she lodged her shoulder in his abdomen and flipped him over her body, slamming him against the mat. “You picked the wrong woman this time.”

  The incubus hissed, and her body pulsed. She channeled the compulsion into her offensive. Her hand sank into his face with the first vicious jab, so she concentrated on his body. Flipping him onto his stomach, she bent both his arms behind his back.

  “Zared, release me from this compulsion and never use your powers on me again.”

  “You’re letting a woman fight your battles for you?” Amusement was clear in the unfamiliar voice.

  Dora looked up and gaped. The newly arrived entity looked similar to the incubus. Undulating between shape and shadow, this creature glowed with golden light.

  “No, sir,” the warrior grumbled. “She attacked before I could stop her.”

  “Have you determined her exact location?”

  “I was about to follow her into the Waking Realm when Zared activated a sexual compulsion.”

  Flashing ebony eyes focused on the incubus. “You’re so predictable it’s boring.” His gaze shifted to Dora’s face. “Release him. All dream spirits obey me.”

  “And why is that?” She glanced between the warrior and -- whatever the other one was. This was by far the most bizarre dream she’d ever experienced.

  “I am Morpheus, Master of the Dream Realm. I will take Zared
far from here.”

  “Works for me.” She shoved him into the mat as she pushed to her feet.

  “Come.” Morpheus motioned toward the incubus, and they disappeared in a flash of light.

  “Well, that was fun.” Dora brushed off her knees. “I wonder what in the world I ate.”

  The warrior walked toward her, his dark gaze illuminated from within. “Dora, wake up.”

  Velvety darkness closed in, concealing his face, dampening sensation, and muddling her thoughts. She blinked and blinked again. The blackness remained. Drawing deep, calming breaths into her lungs, she fought back the panic ricocheting through her brain.

  Focus.

  Think.

  Remember.

  Where am I?

  A strand of hair tickled her cheek. Was the warrior still here? He’d said he was about to follow her into the Waking Realm. Was she awake? She tried to brush the irritant away from her face. She couldn’t move! Struggling frantically against her bonds, she twisted and thrashed upon a flat, slightly giving surface. A bed? Where the hell was she? How had she gotten here?

  Her wrists and ankles were encircled by some sort of cuff. The restraints spread her limbs wide. This position had only one purpose. A scream lodged in her throat. Did she really want to draw attention to herself?

  A low, mournful creak cut through the darkness. Boots scraped against stone, and a man spoke a phrase she didn’t understand. Deeper, with a different inflection, this wasn’t the warrior. Torches spontaneously flickered to life, illuminating the bedchamber. Red, gold, and black, the room spread out around her, an opulent cave in the sputtering firelight.

  The man was huge -- tall, and heavily muscled. Long, black hair flowed to his broad shoulders. As he moved his hair turned red, then black, then red again. His back was to her as he crossed to the hearth.

  She was chained to a bed like a virgin sacrifice, naked and helpless, awaiting his pleasure. Bile rose into her throat. She hadn’t avoided the nightmare; she’d just postponed it. A strangled sound escaped her, and the man turned around.

  Their gazes collided and Dora screamed.

  Chapter Two

  The man moved toward Dora, his stride long and powerful. His features looked almost human, except for those otherworldly eyes. Chills broke out on her skin as his gaze swept the length of her body. Her nipples tightened. Shit! What if he thought she was aroused? At least the sexual compulsion had left her. She had to think, to make sense of this madness.

  “Gildonya frenti ephgal ru?”

  “Drugs,” she muttered. “Someone slipped me a hallucinogenic.”

  His dark brows drew together. “How did you get in here?” He spoke in faintly accented English.

  “You’re not real. I’m going to close my eyes, take a deep breath, and wake up in my own bed.” She closed her eyes, but his soft chuckle kept her from cleansing her mind. Their gazes locked as soon as she opened her eyes. “You’re not real!”

  He encircled her clenched fingers with his and squeezed her hand. “I am real. I’m just not human. I’m guessing from your reaction you didn’t allow yourself to be chained?”

  She dragged a shaky breath into her lungs. His gaze descended to her breasts, then returned to her face. He hadn’t climbed on top of her -- yet. “Where am I? If you’re not human, what are you?”

  For a long silent moment, he searched her features. He released her hand and cupped her chin, angling her face toward him.

  “Lyra?” The one word held a wealth of emotions, but Dora couldn’t decipher them. The man waved his hand, and a blanket covered her naked body. “What’s the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

  She raised her brow in disbelief. “Am I supposed to believe I’m awake?” Her laugh sounded sharp and mirthless. The scene in her dojo had felt just as real.

  The man turned toward the door. “No harm will come to you. Relax. I’ll return shortly.”

  “Wait! Don’t you dare leave me chained like this. If you --” He was gone before she could finish the sentence.

  Relax? She jerked against the cuffs, thrashing for all she was worth. If he thought she was going to lie here, patiently waiting for his return, he was deluded!

  His gaze lingered in her memory, ink-black one minute and flame-red the next. His hair had the same morphing quality. What the hell was he? Her mind filled with a confusing mixture of images. City Park, wrestling with the warrior, fighting the incubus, and wherever this was, all blended into a surreal collage.

  She focused on her surroundings. The scent of burning wood drifted from the elaborate hearth. Her wrists and ankles ached, proof that her efforts were futile. The blanket abraded her nipples and teased her skin.

  How could this be a dream?

  Resuming her struggle, she twisted as far as she could to each side, searching for some form of weapon, or a tool to loosen the cuffs.

  Another face appeared, eclipsing the image of her captor. Strong, masculine features and fierce dark eyes, the warrior said he’d follow her into the Waking Realm. Uncertainty compounded her determination to escape. She could still feel his muscles rippling beneath her palms and his hair sliding between her fingers. Muted echoes of desire pulsed through her body. How could sensations so distinct be part of a dream?

  The door inched open and Dora held her breath. Had the warrior heard her thoughts? Her pulse accelerated.

  A young woman slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. Firelight accented the red tones in her auburn hair as her wide blue gaze took in the room with thorough assessment. She crossed to the bed, her simple garment flowing around her slender body as she moved.

  Releasing her breath with a soft whoosh, Dora licked her dry lips. “Who are you?”

  “My name is unimportant. We have no time to lose.” She reached for the cuff securing Dora’s wrist and deftly worked the buckle.

  “Where am I? Who -- what was --”

  “His name is Chaos. This is his father’s domain. Most call it the Underworld. We don’t have time for long explanations.”

  The woman released Dora’s other wrist, and she sprang up, unfastening one ankle while the redhead freed the other. Dora gathered the blanket around her body as she crawled off the bed. The characters in her dream could call it whatever they wanted. All Dora wanted was to wake up.

  The redhead rummaged through an old-fashioned wardrobe and found a short-sleeved shirt. Dora tugged it on over her head, her thoughts in a jumble. Judging from the size, the garment belonged to Chaos. She shivered. The name suited him.

  “Hurry. We must be gone before he returns.”

  “Why are you helping me?” The shirt fell almost to her knees.

  “My reasons are my own. Come with me or stay. The choice is yours.”

  Dora hesitated. She was free now, and clothed. Chaos had seemed as surprised by her presence as she’d been to awaken in his bed. Perhaps she should wait -- no. Dream or not, that didn’t seem wise.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To someone who can protect you.” She gestured toward the door.

  “I can protect myself,” Dora objected automatically.

  Condescension tinged the redhead’s smile. “I’m sure your training came in handy in the Realm of Mortals, but human rules no longer apply. Stay or go. It makes no difference to me, but Chaos can’t find me here.”

  Dora wanted to scream. Go with a stranger into an unknown situation or stay and wait for a non-human mountain of a man. Neither option held much appeal. The redhead crossed the chamber without a backward glance. Dora fell in behind.

  Human rules no longer applied? The casual statement sent dread spiraling through her.

  “How do you know about my training?” Dora glanced up and down the long, narrow corridor before following the redhead. “Who are you?”

  “Be quiet and move quickly. If the sentinels sound the alarm, we’re screwed.”

  They rounded a corner and entered a wider passageway. There were no windows or
lights, yet illumination filled the corridor. Each step she took made it harder to believe this was a dream. Her feet moved over smooth, warm stones. The scent of smoke and roasting meat drifted on the air. Tangible, distinct, her senses confirmed the reality of her surroundings.

  Archways led to other hallways, and iron-banned doors broke the monotony of the stone walls. Tension mounted within Dora. If this wasn’t a dream, was she -- dead?

  Piercing screeches rent the air, and a flurry of large, black birds swooped toward the women. Dora gasped and ducked. One sharp talon narrowly missed her face before the creatures continued their flight down the passageway.

  “Shit!” The redhead grabbed her arm and pulled her into a rounded alcove. “They are never in this corridor. They must have sensed something was afoot.”

  “Were those sentinels?” Dora pressed her hand over her pounding heart.

  “Yes.” Her gaze grew distant, her head tilted as she listened to something Dora couldn’t hear. “Kane is just around the corner. Stay here! He will find you.” Before Dora could respond to the command, the redhead blinked out of sight.

  Dora leaned against the wall, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. The warrior ran past the alcove, silver sword in his right hand. Dora gasped. His head turned at the last moment and he reversed direction.

  His dark gaze swept the length of her body, then settled into a scowl. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Are you Kane?” Here was proof she was still dreaming. He couldn’t be in her dreams and reality. She relaxed a little, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

  “Yes, I’m Kane. Did Chaos touch you?” Anxiety made his tone rough, his expression fierce.

  Tingles erupted along her forearms and skittered down her spine. Was she still under the sexual compulsion? You have no use for aggressive men. And this one personified the breed. “I’m fine. Your friend freed me --”

  “What friend?”

  “Didn’t you send the red-haired woman?”

  “Despite what happened in your dojo, I would never send a woman ahead of me.”