Sweet Dreams (Sweetwater Book 2)

by Rivi Jacks

“Yes, they are.” Her tinkling laugh flows down to me as she continues up the stairs.

  “Thanks for keeping Emma Rae and me safe when the loft floor fell out from under us.” She tosses a smile over her shoulder. “And sorry for dragging you into that mess tonight.”

  “I’m glad I was there and could be of help.”

  “Me too,” I say. I don’t even want to think about how things would have turned out if not for Maryanne.

  Once she’s settled into one of the guestrooms, I head back downstairs and make a beeline for the shower. I sit on the floor of the shower letting the hot water beat down on me as I scrub at the dried blood. I can’t stop the night’s events from replaying in my head, and I decide I need to call Emma Rae. I’m worried about her.

  She picks up on the first ring as I sit at the center island in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water.

  She answers with, “You okay?”

  “I am. You?”

  “I’m okay. Some night, huh?”

  I choke a laugh. “Yeah, some night.” I rub at a spot on the countertop. “I just thought I’d see how you’re doing. You were quiet after the guys arrived.” She doesn’t say anything. “The Kihn are monsters, but—it’s still not easy killing one of them.”

  “A little hard to wrap my head around,” she admits. “I’ve never killed anything, at least not that I know of.” She laughs. “But I’m okay, Sofie. Really.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yep. Him or us. I’ll always choose us.”

  “Thank goodness!” I say with a laugh. “Okay.” I stand and carry my glass to the sink. “Thank you for being there tonight, Emma Rae. I always know you have my back.”

  “We make a good team.”

  I laugh. “Yes, we do.”

  I’m crawling into bed when the house phone rings and I know it’s Lucas.

  “My sweet.” His voice resonates in my ear, making my skin tingle.

  “Lucas.” I close my eyes as I lie back against the pillows.

  “I heard you had a little excitement there tonight.”

  I smile at his attempt to downplay the seriousness of the situation. Which surprises me. I figured he’d have a whole different attitude about the night’s events. “My stars— news from this part of the world certainly travels fast.”

  He laughs, but his voice is serious when he asks, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” But I’m suddenly not. I think the shock that has insulated my emotions is wearing off, especially now that I hear his voice. I wish more than anything that he was here. “Where are you?”

  He hesitates before answering. “I’m—traveling.”

  Silence extends between us.

  “Sofie—”

  “I promise I didn’t do anything I shouldn’t have tonight,” I whisper.

  “I know you didn’t, baby,” he answers softly. There’s a trace of sadness in his voice.

  “Emma Rae killed a Kihn.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “I’m not sure. She says she is, and there’s no one as practical as Emma Rae,” I ramble. I’m afraid if I say the wrong thing or if he does, I’ll start bawling like a baby. “You said you were traveling, so you’re on your way to Spain?”

  Another hesitation and then he says, “I’m on my way home.”

  It takes a moment for me to realize he means his home here. “What? No, Lucas! You can’t do that. You said that your mother needed your help and—you had something else to take care of. You can’t let this interfere with what you—”

  “I need to see you, Sofie. I need to see that you’re okay.”

  His admission catches me by surprise, causing a warm glow to settle over me. It also pushes my emotions over the precipice.

  “Lucas,” I whisper, my voice heavy with tears.

  “The thought of something happening to you and me not being there to protect you”—the pain in his voice is almost palpable— “it’s gut-wrenching.”

  How do I keep my emotions in check when he says things like that?

  “I miss you,” I whisper.

  “That’s why I’m coming home… so I can hold you while you sleep.”

  I swipe at my tears as I smile. “There probably wouldn’t be much sleeping.” There never is.

  He chuckles, but his voice is somber when he says, “Not tonight. Tonight I just need to hold you.”

  I like the way his needs include me, but I need to pull myself together. He can’t drop everything and rush to my side like this. He has duties, and I don’t want to be the reason he can’t do what he needs to.

  “As good as that sounds—I really don’t want to cause problems for you. I understand you have an important job, Lucas. I don’t expect you to rush home and hold my hand every time the Kihn decide to” —I search for what to say— “raise hell and give us all grief. It’s not like they’re going to hurt me.” I cross my fingers when I say that. “Ezra will probably just—stash me away somewhere.” Probably in some deep, dark hole. That is until he discovers my actual role with the gate’s opening. I shudder at the thought.

  “My sweet—” The low timbre of Lucas’ voice sparks a yearning in the pit of my belly. “I’d tear this world apart to find you.”

  My heart swells. If that isn’t a declaration of love—I don’t know what is.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No,” I sob.

  He laughs softly. “I think after the night you’ve had you’re entitled.”

  I sniff and nod, silently agreeing with him. “Lucas—”

  “Sofie—”

  “You know what will make me feel better about all this?” I ask.

  “Don’t say it.”

  “I have to. I need you to finish what you set out to do and then come home to me.” I hear his quick intake of breath and hurry on with what I need to say. “Who knows but what happened tonight was just a—tactic on their part. They may have known the reason you left, and this was Ezra’s way of sabotaging that. I mean, it’s a possibility, right?”

  “Sofie—”

  “It may not have been all about me.”

  “Sofie—”

  “Plus, I don’t want your mom to think I’m a big baby that can’t handle a little kidnapping attempt by the Kihn.”

  He laughs out loud, and I smile, but I truly hope he’ll think about what I’m saying. I settle back down under the covers as weariness starts to settle in.

  “My mother wants to meet you.”

  That brings me right back up to a sitting position. She does? “You told her about me? About us?”

  “My mother has a way of knowing everything,” he says wryly.

  I fight to hold back my yawn.

  “Okay, Sofie. I’ll do as you ask.”

  “Thank you.” Did I seriously just convince him not to come home when I’m missing him like crazy?

  “My sweet, you need to get some rest. I’ll call you once I arrive in Spain.”

  “Wait! I want to hear more about your mother.”

  “You will, but it’s been a long night.” I lie back, pulling his pillow over to me. “Did you notice the Scotts are gone?”

  “They are?”

  “They’re going to stay at Dominic’s for a few days.”

  “There’s room at the club?”

  “Dom has a house.” He sounds a little distracted, and I think I hear a guy say something in the background.

  “Oh.” I wonder where that house is located. This is the first I’ve heard of it. “I hope you didn’t feel like I had a problem with them staying here? Honest, Lucas, I could have dealt with Richael Scott.”

  “I have no doubt about that, my sweet,” he says, amused. “Okay, now remember, you go nowhere without one of
my men.”

  “You can count on that.”

  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  I can hear the amusement in his voice as I shake my head. “I promise to be even more careful.”

  He laughs. “Sweet dreams, my sweet.”

  “Sweet dreams, Lucas.”

  “Sofie?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m very proud of how you handled yourself tonight. Taylor filled me in on what happened.”

  I feel a warmth radiate in my chest. “Thank you,” I say, grateful for his acknowledgement.

  “Good night, baby.”

  I curl up on my side after we end the call. I thought it wise not to tell Lucas what I’ve decided. I know he won’t be happy, but after what happened tonight, I know it’s what I have to do. I just hope he understands. I also decided not to tell him about what Cardwell said to me. I’m not sure what Lucas will think about Cardwell saying I owe him. I’m not sure what I think about it.

  The next few days leave me little time to dwell on Lucas being away. At night I fall into bed, practically asleep as my head hits the pillow. But I still manage to miss him. It feels as if part of me is missing. The most important part.

  I start back to work at Murphy’s, and Maryanne accompanies Sam and me to the Zelts each afternoon. Brit and Maple Lintz are working on spells that need my presence since the spells are designed specifically for me. Hershel Morton continues to ask me about my dreams, and he requires descriptions of the places the Kihn held me. He’s very thorough in his questioning, writing everything down. He’s also suggested something I’m not sure about. He thinks it might be invaluable if we do a dream session together. The thought of letting the Kihn into my dreams, on purpose, is a scary thought. And Sam’s sure that Lucas would veto any such experiment.

  Right from the start, when we planned these work sessions, I asked Sam to be present too. He’s been amazing, and he’s just as meticulous as Hershel in helping me keep everything straight. He doesn’t forget a thing anyone says.

  And in the evenings—I train like an Olympian—or maybe lunatic is a better description. It’s all in the way one looks at it.

  I made the decision after what happened on Sunday. Just like the episode in Wyoming, if someone hadn’t come to my rescue— At some point, the Kihn, or Ezra, are bound to get lucky and find me vulnerable. Find me in a situation where help won’t arrive in time. I can’t let that happen. Working with the witches has only reinforced my decision. The Kihn have instilled fear in me for far too long.

  No more.

  So, I’m in serious training with the Guard. I’m determined to become, not only physically, but mentally strong as well. I want the ability to protect myself as much as I’m able and there’s a lot I need to learn.

  I know Lucas won’t like it, but— this is the only way I know to be, it’s how I’ve always survived.

  From what I now know, according to Hershel about being the Keeper—the Kihn and Ezra will learn to fear me.

  I am so ready for that. But I also know once they discover my true role in their fate—they will come for me. And every other altercation I’ve ever had with the Kihn, dream or otherwise, will seem like a walk in the woods.

  It’s been a particularly tough night of training. My whole body aches and I know I’m going to have a huge bruise down one hip.

  My own fault.

  When I showed up Monday night with every intention of training with the Guard, I was prepared for a fight. I have trained all along with them, but never to the extent of what they do. I just knew Taylor and Max would fight me on it. I even suspected my uncle Jake would side with them. He’s had a problem right from the start with my training. This makes little sense to me since he helped raise me to defend myself. In fairness though, I know he’s just scared of me having anything to do with the Kihn. But—we’re way past that point.

  I entered the arena that night with attitude. Emma Rae helped me earlier in the day, while we were at work, to list all the positive reasons for me to up my training. So I have to admit, I was more than a little disappointed when I received no objection from anyone as I walked across the arena. I approached Patrick and Fisher who were in the area designated for sword training.

  “I’d like for you to show me how to fight with a sword, please.”

  Both men exhibited surprise, warily glancing at each other. I watched as Fisher then looked across the arena and Patrick took off to find someone who he thought might have charge over me.

  I could tell when someone walked up behind me, not only because of the relieved look on Fisher’s face but because I could feel the familiar energy that was his alone. I was beginning to recognize some of the supes I spent time with that way. Kind of like a human’s particular scent.

  “Quanah,” I said in greeting without turning around.

  “Woman.”

  I turned to look at him then. “I was just asking Fisher to show me how to use a sword.”

  “Miss Sofie, I doubt you’d be able to do much more than lift one of these greatswords.”

  “They’re not that heavy, Fisher.”

  “Well” —he looked over at Quanah, his forehead furrowed— “wielding one of these is a lot harder than just picking it up.”

  “Not to mention it is longer than you are tall.” I turned narrowed eyes on Quanah. Was he trying to be funny?

  I think I really put him in his place with the look I gave him. “They’re not that long.”

  He turned and headed toward the wall of cabinets, returning with something wrapped in a cloth. He unwrapped what looked like a very short sword, holding it out to me. “Careful.”

  The sword blade looked to be about nine inches long, tapering to a fine point. It had a cross guard, attributing to its miniature sword appearance with a leather-wrapped hilt. The edges of the blade and the point were sharp. What was unique about it was that the blade was inlaid with wood.

  I raised my gaze to Quanah’s.

  “A dagger. Strong wood. Lethal to a Kihn.”

  “No doubt,” I said softly, looking back at the pattern carved into the blade.

  “A greatsword, even a broadsword would be too heavy for you to use to defend yourself. You do not want to let a Kihn, or anything else, get that close to you when you are in battle. The Guard mostly use swords for strength training.”

  I blink. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Quanah speak that many words at one time. He’s a man of few words. “But I want to learn how—just in case.”

  Quanah stared intently at me, and I raised my chin further to reinforce my words. “I will help you. I will teach you how to use that.” He nodded at the dagger.

  “Thank you.” I held the dagger up. The grain of the wood was beautiful. “Won’t I have to let a Kihn get close to use this, though?”

  “Miss Sofie,” Fisher inserted. “Just like Quanah said, you don’t ever want to let a Kihn get close to you, but if one does, you will be able to use a dagger quicker and easier than a sword.”

  I nod. That makes sense. “Okay, when do we start?”

  That was a week ago and true to his word, Quanah has been a keen teacher in the use of a dagger for self-defense. I’ve also worked my way around the arena, going through the same paces as the Guard in each training exercise. Of course, I can’t keep up or execute any of the skills that the Guard has finely mastered over time, but I’m learning. I know now that I’ll never be able to wield one of the two-handed swords, but I feel the training is invaluable.

  I’ve also learned, from his men, that it’s close to perfection to watch Lucas in battle. His men practically glow in their re-telling of some of their encounters, and they all listen intently when I tell about the encounter I witnessed between Lucas and the Kihn the night the friend of Sawyer’s date was mistaken for me and ta
ken by the Kihn.

  Taylor has been offering instruction too, teaching me that using anything other than wood or fire against the Kihn means I have to aim for a direct heart hit. I will have to remove the heart from the Kihn’s body. It may not be something I can ever carry out, physically or mentally, but I need to know how a human can do it.

  Sawyer has been my partner this evening in sword practice, hence my bruise. It was close to the end of the night, and I was being a little cocky, not paying attention. I turned into his swing, the flat side of the blade catching me down my side and across my hip. It hurt like a sonofabitch. And of course, everyone saw, bringing an immediate halt to the evening’s activities. When I scolded them for making such a fuss, Taylor informed me everyone there would have to answer to Lucas if I were seriously hurt.

  Good grief!

  I move carefully toward the house with Sawyer as he apologizes again.

  “It’s not your fault, Sawyer.”

  “I know it’s not.”

  I give him a snort and then I grimace, acting like I’m in pain, my arms crossing over my middle.

  “Shit, Sofie! I’m so sorry.” His arm goes around my shoulders. “Here, let me help you.”

  “Sucker,” I say shrugging off his arm.

  “Well now, that’s just mean, cuz.”

  “I know!” I start laughing, and then I really do gasp in pain.

  “Serves you right,” he says as he takes my arm to help me up the steps into the house.

  “Do you have time to come in and hear about Wyoming?”

  He gives me a disgruntled look. “You’re just trying to torture me, aren’t you?”

  “What?” I say with a chuckle. “I thought you were dying to hear about my escapade.”

  “You had an escapade?” He pulls me to a stop. “This is just like you, Sofie. Teasing me that you have some exciting news to tell, but you make it impossible to get together so you can tell me—”

  “Sawyer,” I interrupt, grinning. “I promise I’m not trying to torture you.”