by Cat Marsters
“Most of them have settled down like my dad,” she said, “and the ones who didn’t are dead. Chalia and my dad knew each other at school. And then, turns out her mother and his father’d had a little…indiscretion. Like father, like son, I guess. Striker was the one who figured out Chalia was my dad’s sister. Lya…of course he made best friends with a kelf, why not? And Striker, they knew each other from their schooldays too.”
“I still can’t believe he was a child.”
“Well, of course he was. You don’t think he just hatched out fully formed, do you?”
“I thought he was something hell spat out.”
Kett smiled at that, stroking Var’s fur in a way that was quite distracting. “Hah,” she said quietly. “Some day I’ll tell you about how Striker got to be Striker. He used to be normal, apparently.”
“I can’t imagine it.”
“No, neither can I. He was a normal kid, a teenager, he joined the army, fell in love with a girl, and then got whisked away to a sort of hell dimension for twelve years. Enough to drive anyone mad. But he came back, mostly I think because he missed his woman.”
“Chalia?”
“Yeah. Funny what love does.”
Bael said nothing, watching her stroke Var. Funny indeed.
“’Cos it was love that got me killed,” Kett said, and looked up at him, as if judging his reaction.
“Killed,” Bael said steadily. Somehow, he wasn’t all that surprised.
“Love’s a curse. Falls on everyone. Everyone I know, anyway. You dreamed I was dead,” Kett said, “and I was, although not as old and moldy as you saw.”
“But—how? I mean…what…?”
She smiled at his confusion and pulled up her shirt to show him a small, jagged scar on her stomach. Bael knew that scar, had kissed and caressed it and wondered where it came from.
“The sorceress who freed Striker from the hell dimension fell in love with him,” she said, “but he left her there, swapped her freedom for his. When she escaped, she came after him and Chalia. And since Striker was impervious to harm, she started bumping off his and Chalia’s friends. Including her brother.”
“Your father.”
“Yep.” She snorted. “Last time I ever try to save his life.”
Bael touched the scar. “It’s an odd shape.”
“I was a tiger at the time. And it was magic. I don’t really remember. How she did it, I mean. I died almost instantly. And I don’t remember that either, before you ask. Everyone always wants to know what it’s like to be dead.”
“I’m happy not finding out,” said Bael honestly, and she smiled again. It was good to see her smile. His hand was still on her stomach, still tracing the length of the scar. Her skin was hot, smooth where it wasn’t scarred, and he could feel the muscles move as she breathed.
Well, it was her fault he was still touching her. She’d been cuddling Var like a favorite pet, stroking his fur, fondling his ears. Bael didn’t feel everything his twin did, but he felt enough, and what she was doing was killing him.
He looked up and she was watching him. Her eyes flashed.
“How did you come back to life?” he asked, not moving his hand.
“Striker,” she said, her voice hoarse. “He—” She cleared her throat. “He undid her magic. She killed my dad and Chalia and a whole load of others, but she did it with magic, not with real weapons. He just…undid it.”
“And you woke up alive?”
She nodded. Bael’s hand flattened on her abdomen, feeling the heat and the strength of her body. Such a body, to have survived what it had. His fingers stroked around to the curve of her waist and Kett let out half a breath.
“Bael—”
“It’s your fault,” he said, gesturing to the black cat still on her lap. “You’ve sent Var almost into a trance.”
She looked down guiltily. “Uh—crap. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. He likes it. I like it.”
His eyes met hers, and there was heat in them. Bael hadn’t even realized how close he’d gotten to her, but all he needed to do was move an inch and his lips would be brushing hers.
His hand tightened on her waist and Kett’s palm rested on his shoulder. He thought she was going to try to push him away, but she didn’t seem to know what to do, holding him away from her at a tiny distance.
It was torture.
“Kett,” he whispered, almost a plea, and her lips touched his. Sitting beside her on the bed, in the near dark, he kissed her gently, sweetly, his hands careful on her bruised, fragile body. Var, purring madly, merged with Bael and he swore he felt himself purr. Kett was kissing him, and nothing could be wrong while she was kissing him.
But she pulled away, her face shuttered.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she said, and Bael’s heart plummeted. “Bael, look. You’re hurt, I’m hurt. Between us we have more stitches than one of Nuala’s party frocks. I don’t think I’m even capable of sex right now.”
He stroked her cheek, where a bruise was still fading. She wasn’t his mate, not anymore. She never had been.
He should tell her he’d slept with Marisa.
“It’s late,” Kett said, moving back. “I’m tired.”
He stood, nodding reluctantly, and let her move away. She tugged off her shirt, wincing when she moved her shoulder, but Bael knew better than to interfere. Naked, she crawled into bed and looked at him standing there.
“Well?” she said. “You staying?”
“I can sleep somewhere else,” he said despondently.
And was amazed when Kett, her gaze dropping, said, “No, you can stay here.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. Kicking away his clothes, he slid in beside her and managed not to say a single word when she curled into his arms and fell asleep with her head on his chest.
He left you to die. He told his men to beat and starve you. He cheated on you—he thinks he cheated on you—and never said a word about it.
And yet Kett still wanted him. She’d always known she was pretty screwed up, but this was just ridiculous.
How was it possible she still wanted to be here with him? That she was deriving so much comfort just from the proximity of his body? When her cheating ex had been revealed for the slimy bucket of maggots he really was, she hadn’t once wished for the comfort of his arms to make everything all right again.
Maybe, said an insidious little voice inside her, it’s because he actually is your mate.
Bollocks, she told it.
So why are you lying with your head on his chest? Naked?
She was half-asleep, or thought she was at any rate. When she opened her eyes to see white sand and a black sky, she realized she was dreaming.
Either that or she’d developed an interesting new talent for sleepwalking hundreds of miles.
A man stood by the shore of an inky sea, its waves breaking gently on his bare feet. He was naked, his skin kissed by moonlight. His black hair ruffled in the slight breeze. His back was sculpted muscle, but Kett saw a glimpse of an ugly wound there.
She stepped closer and the wound was gone.
Her body moved easily, not hindered by pain or injury. Score one for dreams.
“How’s the water?” she asked.
“Deep,” he replied.
Great, another cryptic dream. “Bael?”
He turned then and was suddenly right in front of her, arms around her, his skin cool but his body hard, strong.
“I missed you,” he breathed, and kissed her, another slow, melting kiss like he’d given her earlier in the evening. The sort of kiss that reminded her why she’d let him follow her across the Realms, why she’d put up with his bullshit about mates, why she’d felt so bad about tricking him. Why she’d reacted the way she had when he fell off the roof, unconscious and broken.
“It’s just sex,” she said, and he frowned.
“It’s never just sex,” he said. “Not with you and me.” His fingers curled in her
hair. “It’s more than that. Don’t you feel it?”
The thing was, she did, and it terrified her. “I don’t need anything more,” she insisted. “I never did, and I still don’t. Just sex.”
That was a lie and she knew it, and she half expected him to fade away, slip under the waves or just shoot her in the head, but he stayed right where he was, holding her against him. And Kett hated herself for the admission, but she felt safe there.
“If sex is all you want, then that’s what we’ll do,” he said, and kissed her again, his hands roaming her back. Cupping her buttocks, he pulled her hips against his and she felt the strength of his erection, hot and hard against her stomach. His body was so strong, almost invincible. Kett had never wanted anyone to take care of her…
(Except sometimes, in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, when she was bone-tired, her body aching after her latest confrontation and her mind numb with loneliness.)
…but it felt nice to be held all the same.
She found herself lying on the soft sand—softer than sand had ever been in her own experience—her body cradling Bael’s as he kissed her, wave after wave of beautiful kisses. And while her body responded, felt every lick of his agile tongue, every sweep of his clever fingers, she seemed to be floating above the beach, watching him make love to her.
None of this makes sense.
Was she becoming one of those women who fell in love with abusive men? Kett had known some absolute stinkers in her time, but no one had ever locked her in a cell and left her to rot.
But then, he did rescue her.
Eventually.
“Kett,” Bael murmured, and then she was back in her own body, lying under him, feeling his weight on her. He was warmer now, skin heating up as he got more energetic. The rough hairs on his chest tickled her sensitized breasts.
“Where did you go?” he asked, nuzzling her neck, her ear.
“None of this makes sense,” she said.
“What doesn’t? I want you, you want me, ergo, we have lots of explosive sex. It makes perfect sense.”
“Yes, I want you,” Kett said, “but I don’t actually like you.”
He lifted his head, his eyes very green in the moonlight. “I like you,” he said. “I like everything about you, Kett Almet.”
His voice shone with such honesty it almost embarrassed her. “Everything?” she asked. “Bael, I’m angry and rude, I swear at you all the time, I kept the biggest, most important things from you—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“I’m a bitter, scarred freak of nature,” she said, “whose closest friends are sociopaths and lunatics.”
Bael gave a crooked smile. “Those are precisely the things I like about you,” he said.
Kett gave up. “You’re very weird.”
He kissed her nose. “Yes, I am. Now, I was trying to make love to you. If you’re done with the self-loathing, may I continue?”
That brought a smile from her, and she threaded her fingers in his hair to bring him down and kiss him. He bit gently on her lower lip then licked it, and Kett felt her body arch against him involuntarily, her breasts flattening against his chest and her hips rising off the ground.
Bael’s hand traced over her collarbone, her shoulder, her arm, then swept across to her breast. He stroked her, every caress making her shiver until she couldn’t take it anymore and thrust her nipple against his palm. He smiled against her mouth, rolling the sensitive nub between his finger and thumb and making her writhe.
“I love it when you do that,” he breathed. “I love the way you react.” Dipping his head, he kissed her breast, which elicited a small moan from Kett. “You’re so responsive. I could make love to you forever.”
“No complaints here,” Kett gasped as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. “Sweet merciful gods, Bael!”
He laughed against her breast and continued to suckle her, his hand sweeping down her left side, cupping the arch of her hipbone as if memorizing it. With his other hand he wrapped her right leg around his waist, opening her to him, pressing her wet flesh against his hard stomach.
“Do you want me?” he asked, fingers edging round her hips to stroke the soft, responsive skin of her inner thighs.
“You know I do.”
“Say it. Tell me.”
“I want you, Bael.”
He transferred his attentions to her other breast, leaving the first wet and sensitive to the cool air. “Tell me what you want.”
“Pretty much what you’re doing,” she moaned.
“A little more specific,” he laughed.
“I want you to stop arsing around teasing me and get your hands between my legs,” she snapped.
That made Bael laugh even more. He slid one hand between her legs and cupped her pussy—but didn’t do anything else.
“That’s not fair!” wailed Kett, who had never knowingly wailed before in her life.
“It’s what you asked for.”
“Bastard,” she said, and slid her own hand between them to cover his. Using her own fingers, she guided his between her folds, almost moaning with the bliss of being touched. She was slippery wet, puffy and swollen, desperate for relief, and she moved his index finger to her clit.
With her other hand she grabbed a handful of his hair and lifted his head.
“I want you to stroke me,” she said in his ear.
Bael smiled, a slow, melting smile that made Kett’s pulse kick up. “My pleasure,” he said, doing just that. “Believe me, my pleasure.”
She was so wet his fingers slid around effortlessly, first one hand and then both as he knelt between her thighs, circling and rubbing her clit, plunging inside her, stroking her labia and making her gasp, her fingers digging into his flesh.
His thumb pressed against her clit and she came, a wonderful release that had her clinging to him as the world spun around her.
“Like that?” Bael murmured against her breast.
“No. Hated it. Try harder next time.”
He chuckled and nudged her with his cock. “Do you want this?”
“Gods, yes. Fuck me, Bael.”
His mouth found hers as he slid inside her with agonizing slowness, so thick he filled her completely. Kett’s hands clenched his buttocks, pulling him deeper inside her until he could go no farther, and then she found herself holding him, cradling him, both arms wrapped around his back.
He felt so real, so big and hard and wonderful, so right.
“Bael,” she whispered, and he kissed her cheek, her jaw. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”
He pulled back an inch or two to look at her. “I thought it was.”
“Your dream or mine?”
“Well, I didn’t think it was yours.”
“It’s too real.”
He rocked his hips against hers. “Feels real.” Frowning for a second, he said, “Wait, let me try something.”
She thought he was going to introduce her to some new kink—or at least attempt to, because there were few kinks a shapeshifter couldn’t discover—but he closed his eyes as if concentrating and Kett felt the ground underneath her change, sand to grass, and the sky lightened.
They were lying in a meadow dotted with flowers. The grass tickled Kett’s back.
“This is near my house in Angeland,” Bael said. “It’s my dream.”
Kett closed her eyes and thought about Koskwim, and when she opened them it was to find herself lying on the bed in her room there, the canopy supported by marble angels, the sheets soft beneath her back.
“This is my room on Koskwim,” she said, figuring she was going to have to tell him eventually anyway. “It’s not your dream.”
“But I took us to the meadow.”
“And I brought us here. Does this look familiar to you?”
Bael admitted that it didn’t. As he twisted to look around, his cock slid out of her a little, and Kett wriggled against him.
“Look. This isn’t important. Weren’t you goi
ng to fuck me?”
He turned back to her and smiled. “I was.”
She flipped him onto his back and sank down on him fully, rubbing her breasts against his chest and kissing his face. His jaw was rough with stubble, abrasive against her skin.
“This,” she said, sitting up and riding him, “is Koskwim. Home of the Order. An elite group of highly trained mercenaries for hire.”
Bael put his hands on her hips and urged her on faster.
“Are you listening to me?” she admonished.
“Yeah. ’Course. Order. Hire. Elite. Uh, what do you do?”
She shoved his shoulder, squeezed him with her internal muscles, and he grinned.
“Mercenaries,” she said. “We spy, rob, fight, kill. Train armies. Run police forces.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Captain Tanner in Elvyrn, he’s one of us. A Knight. And Striker. And Chance.”
“You’re a Knight?” He slid his hands up her stomach to cup her breasts.
“Yep. No armor though.”
“Shame. Bet you look hot in armor.”
Kett smiled, leaning down to kiss him. She’d no idea how real any of this was, but it would surely be easier to repeat herself once she was awake. Once something had been done, it usually got easier to do.
Her smile faded as she realized the last thing she had to tell him.
Got to be done, her brain told her. You got yourself into this mess, you’re the only one can get you out.
Closing her eyes, she rose and fell on Bael’s thick, delicious cock, and concentrated on the memory of Marisa. It came easily, the dream assisting her, and she knew when she’d gotten there by Bael’s sharp intake of breath.
“What the hell?” he shouted. “Okay, now I know this is my dream.”
“No,” Kett said, opening her eyes. “You’re not imagining this. Bael, does it feel like a dream?”
He shook his head rapidly, scrambling off the bed and away from her, pushing her off him just like he had in the tavern.