What Dreams May Come (Berkley Sensation)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  She frowned. “You mean my parents?”

  “I mean whoever is responsible for your future.”

  “That would be me.”

  A puzzled look crossed his handsome features until they melted into one of amusement. “Truly? You answer only unto yourself?”

  “Just like you.”

  He smiled at that, and before she realized what he intended, he captured her lips with his.

  Taryn tensed for a moment, and started to step back, but his arms quickly surrounded her, drawing her closer to his heat as he opened her mouth and ravished it. There was no other word for the complete possession he took.

  She’d been kissed plenty of times in her life, but never like this. Never with such heated intensity. His tongue coaxed hers, his lips demanding.

  And the smell of him . . .

  So manly. So warm. So sexual.

  Rising up on her tiptoes, she moaned from the feel of him, wanting to draw him in deeper. To taste more of this incredible male.

  Sparhawk growled at the passion in her caress as she wrapped her arms about him. She clung to him and met his kiss with a hunger that surprised him. Aye, she was a wild one. One who would bed him well, and he in turn would never leave her wanting more. Never leave until she was completely spent and satisfied.

  In that moment he knew she was the one he would take as his own. He would never go back to Alinor.

  Never.

  He cupped her face in his hands and reluctantly pulled back. She kept her eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

  He smiled.

  When she opened her large, doe-like eyes and stared up at him, he felt a strange surge through him. It was raw and aching and it demanded her in a way that stunned him.

  “That was nice,” she said breathlessly.

  He laughed. ‘Twas the first time any woman had said that to him.

  Taryn tried to regain her equilibrium, but it wasn’t easy. Not when all she really wanted to do was step back into his arms and have her most wicked way with him. Worse was the little tiny voice in the back of her mind that kept saying having sex with a character from a romance novel didn’t count anyway. Right?

  She could do anything she wanted to with him, and no one would ever know. . . .

  Oh, yeah, that could be fun.

  “Okay, Spar . . .” She paused on his name. Sparhawk just sounded too ludicrous for words when spoken out loud.

  What had the writer been thinking?

  Oh, do me, great big Sparhawk. You the man. Taryn laughed in spite of herself. Nope, that name did not work in reality.

  “What would you like me to call you?” she asked.

  He cocked an arrogant brow at her. “You may call me Earl.”

  Taryn bit back another laugh. Yeah, right. That was probably the only thing worse than Sparhawk. And for some unholy reason the Dixie Chicks song Goodbye Earl started going through her head.

  Oh, good grief!

  “Okay, look, your majesty or grace or whatever, Earl and Sparhawk aren’t going to cut it for the moment, okay?”

  Somehow Sparhawk managed to look ever more regal and arched. “I beg your pardon? This from a woman called Totally Freaking Out?”

  This was rapidly disintegrating into even more chaos and bizarreness. “My name isn’t Totally Freaking Out. It’s Taryn. Taryn Edwards.”

  He seemed to relax a bit. “Lady Taryn?”

  “No, just Taryn.”

  “Very well, Taryn. You may call me Sparhawk.”

  Taryn bit her lip as she winced. “You know, big guy, I just can’t really do that.”

  “Then call me milord,” he said, totally missing her point.

  Taryn took a deep breath. “Let me explain my world to you. If I call you milord and you call me milady, people are going to lock both of us up.”

  “In the stocks?”

  “Sure. Um, so I need a name I can call you that won’t make anyone look at us strangely.” Or make me laugh out loud every time I use it.

  “Since this is your world, mi—” He broke off his words as she cocked a brow. “Taryn. Tell me, what name should I use?”

  Taryn stared at him for several minutes as she ran over the possibilities. He was too incredible to be something simple like Tom or Ken or Robert. He needed a more studly name.

  Finally she settled on just shortening it. “How about just Hawk?”

  Still a little ridiculous, but better.

  He nodded. “Very well, Taryn. For you, I shall be known as Hawk.”

  A strange flutter shot through her at his words. For you. No doubt he had meant nothing special by them; still they warmed her.

  “Now we have to do something about those clothes.”

  “You would change my name and my clothing, milady. Is there nothing about me you find acceptable?”

  A hurt look flashed across his eyes so fast that she thought she might have imagined it. And it was then she remembered what she had read about him in the book. . . .

  Alinor’s words made his old wounds bleed anew.

  He had cut his teeth on criticism and had long ago ceased holding any tolerance for it. No one needed to point out his shortcomings to him, for he knew each fault he possessed quite intimately as it had been pointed out with crystal clarity in his youth, under the violent tutelage of his lord.

  If this was really the Sparhawk character come to life, then he would have had the same past as the Sparhawk in the book.

  Her heart lurched at the thought. The man in the book had borne solitude and suffering the whole of his life. It was his pain that had kept her up late reading about him, her need to see him happy that had her turning page after page as she hoped Alinor would get a clue and realize what a great guy she had.

  Taryn paused at the thought.

  No, it’s not real. He’s not real. Sparhawk is a book knight. He can’t come to life.

  And yet . . .

  “What happened to your parents?” she asked.

  His eyes turned dull. “My mother died birthing my stillborn brother, and my father died of grief a few months later.”

  “Had you been worth anything, boy, your father wouldn’t have damned himself to the devil by taking his own life to be rid of you. . . .”

  Taryn flinched as she remembered the words Sparhawk’s uncle had said when they delivered the frightened boy to his door. Barely eight, Sparhawk had dared to argue at his unfair treatment, and his uncle had struck him so hard, the cut from the man’s ring had left a scar.

  A scar on his left cheek, right below his eye.

  A scar that would probably look just like the faint one Hawk had on his left cheek.

  Her heart stopped.

  “You were sent to live with your uncle when you were eight?” she asked, hoping he would deny it.

  “How did you know that?”

  Taryn felt ill. Taking deep breaths, she sat on the arm of her dark blue sofa. “Oh, boy,” she breathed.

  Her head swam from the possibilities. How could this be real? How could he have gotten into her world? How?

  Hawk moved toward her, taking her arm. “Are you all right, Taryn? You look faint.”

  In all honesty, she felt faint. “I’m fine,” she said, staring at the long tapered fingers grasping her arm. Fingers that were as flesh and bone as the man at her side.

  “We need to see Esther.” Oh, yeah, they really did. She had to have some real answers.

  “Esther? The witch?”

  “Pardon?”

  “The witch who sent me here. Her name was Esther. Do you know of her?”

  Taryn’s eyes widened. “Little gray-haired woman with brown eyes?”

  “Aye.”

  “She sent you here?”

  He nodded.

  Oh, that figured. “Did she happen to say why you were sent here?”

  “I asked for it. I wanted a way to escape my impending doom with Alinor, and she told me that I would find myself in a miraculous world, which I have. But I don’t know the script
here, only that you are my heroine and that I should make you fall in love with me.”

  Oh . . . good . . . grief. “Why would you ask such a thing? Your world didn’t seem so bad.”

  By the look on his face, she could tell he disagreed. “I have my reasons, milady. There are many unpleasantries at home that I would soonest avoid.”

  She could understand that. She had her own unpleasantries she’d like to avoid. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she forced herself up and returned to the issue that had started it all. His clothes.

  She had some of Rob’s sweats that she’d borrowed one night when she had accidentally spilled Coke all over herself at his house. Though Rob wasn’t nearly as large as Hawk, the sweats should stretch enough to at least be decent.

  Ten minutes later after she’d given them to Hawk, she recanted that idea as Hawk came out of the bedroom wearing navy sweats that hugged a rump so prime she was amazed the USDA hadn’t stamped it. And her XXL T-shirt was pulled taut over a chest so well-toned she could hire him out for a muscle magazine ad.

  Worse, those sweats rode low on his lean hips, showing his six-pack of abs off to perfection.

  Oh, mama, she wanted a bite of that.

  And in that moment she wanted to thank the unknown author of his book. The woman was a goddess! And her taste in men should be applauded until the cows came home and tap-danced on the front lawn.

  Sparhawk paused as he caught the heated stare of Taryn’s large brown eyes. She never so much as blinked as she sized him up. He smiled from the knowledge.

  Lust he could work with. It was indifference that would spell the end to his plans.

  “Are my clothes appropriate?” he asked.

  She nodded, blinked, then met his gaze. “What was that?”

  He laughed. “I asked if my clothing was now acceptable to you.”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” she said, the noise carrying her approval. “All we need are tennis shoes and we’re in business.”

  He didn’t ask. In truth, he feared the answer. Tennis shoes sounded almost painful. “I have my boots.”

  She shook her head. “No offense, chain-mail footwear and sweats just don’t go together well.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Taryn decided he was dressed enough to take to the bookstore anyway. Grabbing her keys from the kitchen counter, she led the way out of the house and showed him to her car in the driveway.

  He walked toward it with a frown on his face. A frown that deepened considerably as another car drove by and he watched it with fear and curiosity warring on his face. “How do these things move with no horses?”

  “They have engines which probably makes no sense whatsoever to you.”

  “’Tis one term I understand, milady. We had engines in my world as well.”

  “Really?”

  “Aye, but nothing like this.” He ran his hand over the top of her car as if marveling at it.

  She smiled at the enthused look on his face, and something inside told her he was going to love riding in her rental car.

  A wildly appreciative look came over his face as he took a seat on the passenger side and she started it.

  Once they pulled out of the drive and started down the street, his eyes glowed like a child seeing the ocean for the very first time.

  “’Tis like wings,” he said, watching the scenery fly past. “This is incredible!”

  “It’s all right. Not as fast as my Firebird, though.”

  His eyes lit up even more. “You ride on a bird that flies faster than fire?”

  “Not exactly. It’s a car like this one, only cooler and faster.” At least on the days when it ran. Laughing, she drove to the interstate and headed toward where she’d been yesterday.

  Half an hour later they stood outside the vacant store where Esther’s bookstore had been the day before. The windows were covered, and it looked as if nothing had been there for at least a year. There was no sign, no books. Nothing.

  “This can’t be,” she said under her breath.

  “What is it?”

  “Yesterday the store was here.”

  He gave her a puzzled stare. “Are you in error?”

  She shook her head. “No, I swear. I sat in there just yesterday and drank coffee while I talked to Esther, who said her book would help me. . . .”

  It was unbelievable.

  “So what does this mean?” Hawk asked.

  Taryn shook her head. “I guess it means I need to teach you to read modern English. ‘Cause, buddy, it looks like you’re stuck here.”

  Sparhawk saw the disbelief in her eyes, and it was on the tip of his tongue to correct her. But he didn’t.

  She seemed too eager for him to leave. As had most people of his acquaintance. Mayhap if he could convince her to spend time with him, she could come to care for him, at least somewhat.

  But then why would she when even your own kind can’t tolerate you?

  He squelched that voice. Surely the witch wouldn’t have sent him here unless she believed it were possible to make this strange woman crave him in this story.

  Holding on to that thought, he took Taryn’s hand from the door and held it in his. “Tell me, milady, would being stuck with me be so terribly bad?”

  Taryn wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t. “I don’t know, Hawk. I know nothing about you other than what I’ve read in my book.”

  “And I know nothing of you, my lady Taryn, other than you seem a decent and kind woman.”

  “Yeah.” So decent and kind that her boyfriend tossed her over for a cheap thrill in his office. “C’mon, we need to get you some more clothes and some shoes.”

  She took him across the busy road to TJ Maxx so that they could start to outfit him. It was actually kind of fun since Hawk had no idea what was fashionable and what wasn’t. He wore whatever she told him to, and hon, he looked damned good in jeans. When he came out of the dressing room, one woman actually walked into a rack of ties because she couldn’t stop staring at him.

  Not that Taryn blamed her. She was feeling rather giddy herself. Hawk didn’t seem to notice the stir he was causing with other women. He only seemed to see her, which was really nice for a change.

  “Do these fit correctly?” he asked.

  Taryn bit her lip as she nodded impishly. “Oh, yeah, babe, those fit the way God and Calvin meant for jeans to fit a man.”

  “Calvin?”

  “It’s just an expression.” She reached up to unbutton his collar so that the long-sleeved dark green shirt wouldn’t choke him. The color of it made his eyes even more vibrant. Made his skin more tan, delectable.

  It was all she could do not to shove him into the dressing room and rip those clothes off him for her viewing and fondling pleasure.

  Really, no guy should be this hot and tempting.

  Taryn sent him back in to undress while she went to pick out underwear and socks. When he returned to her, he was again dressed in his sweats with the clothes held in his arms.

  Once they had those bought, Taryn took him to a sports store for shoes.

  “You have the biggest feet,” she said as they measured them. He really was a fourteen. “Good grief, they’re earth pads.”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  “Nope,” she said with a grin. “Trust me, in my world those are a vital asset.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, women equate foot size to . . .” She dropped her gaze to an area of his body that she had been curious about for hours now.

  His eyes widened as he caught her meaning. “Milady!”

  “I know, I’m wicked, but I can’t help myself. Have you seen yourself in a mirror?”

  He smiled at her as he rose to pull her toward him. He dipped his head down so that he could whisper in her ear. “Anytime my Lady Wicked wishes to appease her curiosity, I am a most willing supplicant.” Those words sent a shiver over her as did the sensation of his hot breath against her neck.

  Taryn closed her eyes as she
inhaled the scent of him. It really was all she could do not to pull him flush to her body and kiss the daylights out of him.

  “Don’t tempt me,” she said quietly. “We need to find earth-pad covers.”

  But before she could escape, he did place a very quick, very powerful kiss to her lips. Taryn melted. “You are too good to be true.”

  But then he wasn’t. Not really.

  Was he?

  She pulled back with a frown. “How did you get here, Hawk?”

  He let his fingers linger in her hair as he smiled down at her. “I asked the old witch for a miracle that would keep me from Alinor’s clutches, and the witch sent me to you.”

  “How, though?”

  “I know not. One moment I was there with Alinor screaming at me, and the next I awoke in your bed.”

  “Can you get home again?”

  Sparhawk hesitated. If he didn’t make Lady Taryn fall in love with him, the witch had said he would be forced back into his own story. That was the last thing he wanted. He’d had enough of Alinor all these past years. Truly, he would rather be dead than forced to woo her one more time.

  “Nay,” he lied, unwilling to think of his life in his own book. “I was sent here for you, Taryn. You needed a hero and I am here to be him.”

  On her face he saw the joy and the pain his words wrought.

  “Do you not want me with you? Is there another hero you would prefer?”

  She sighed. “It’s not that exactly. I just don’t know what to do with a man from the Middle Ages. I mean, it’s not like you can work a job or anything. There’s not much opportunity for a knight in shining armor in twenty-first-century America.”

  “Then you do want me to return to my book?”

  She looked confused. “No . . . Yes . . . I don’t know. I’m just not sure what I should be doing with you.”

  “What is it you want to do with me?”

  Taryn swallowed at his question. The images in her mind were hot and wicked and wholly inappropriate while she was standing in a public place. “I don’t know, Hawk,” she answered truthfully.

  “Then pretend that I am only here for seven days. Pretend that at week’s end you will never have to see me again. That I would just go back whence I came. What would you do with me then?”

  She smiled wistfully at that. “I’m not sure.”