Destined for Dreams

by Susan Illene

  He ran a hand through his ragged hair. “I’ve been better.”

  “Did you stop some of the fireballs?” she asked, knitting her brows.

  “There was a family with a child just getting out of their car when the attack started.” He sighed. “I couldn’t let them get struck.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s no need to thank me for doing what is right.” He gave her an amused look. “I will go change now,” he said, and flashed away.

  Cori went back to the window, staring at the damage in disbelief. They’d all known the demon would do something major, but this was well beyond anything she’d imagined. Trees, bushes, and flowers were all stripped of their foliage. Dead locusts littered the ground at least ankle deep by her estimates. And who knew how many homes and businesses had been destroyed in the firebombs? If Bartol and his father didn’t kill the demon already, there would be no stopping him now. This kind of disaster had to provide plenty of fuel for the evil man’s power.

  Her cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Bartol stopped the demon, but you’ve got to get over here now!” Melena said urgently.

  “I’ll grab Micah and be there as soon as possible,” Cori promised, hanging up.

  Lucas’ brother appeared downstairs a moment later in a clean sweatshirt and pair of jeans. “Lucas just informed me...”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “Give me a second.”

  Cori turned around and took a deep breath, concentrating on lowering the walls that prevented magic from affecting her. “I’m ready.”

  Micah grasped her shoulders, only moving as close to her as necessary for transport. She braced herself. The next thing she knew a vortex of colors flew past her at lightning speed. It went on for several seconds before they came to a sudden stop. The world spun, and the ground shifted beneath her feet. Cori had thought she’d gotten past the flashing sickness, but it was back with a vengeance now that she was pregnant. Bile rose in her throat, and she fell to her knees to throw up on the ground. The sight of locusts beneath her hands did not make matters any better, making her wretch even more. Time was of the essence, she knew, but she had no choice except to wait until the nausea passed.

  Across the street, she caught sight of a broken fence and dead bodies littering the ground. A warehouse just beyond that had several large holes in it, and buildings all along the block were either demolished or still burning by what she assumed were the firebombs striking earlier. Almost no one was in sight except a few supernaturals standing at the perimeter. Cori took all this in while breathing the smoky air and attempting to regain her strength. When she finally recovered, Micah helped her stand up and guided her down the sidewalk.

  He pointed. “Your mate is over there.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she got a better view of the damaged warehouse and the people standing in front of it. Caius, Remiel, Lucas, and Raguel were all working together to hold Bartol on the ground, but they were all getting thrown back as fast as they could pin her mate to the concrete. Every one of them looked like they were on their last leg. Horrible wounds covered them with the two archangels faring the worst damage. She cringed at the sight of Remiel’s damaged wings that appeared to have been nearly burned off. How many of the injuries came from battling the demon, and how many from Bartol?

  Cori raced across the street, jumping over the downed fence. She got close just as Bartol sent Remiel flying a dozen feet past her. Raguel and Caius doubled down, putting all their weight on her mate. They managed to hold him for a few seconds, but then he punched both his fists out and sent them sailing. Cori stopped a few paces away, eyes widening as Bartol rose to his feet. His golden eyes were bright with madness, and he stared at her like she was a stranger.

  “Bartol, it’s me,” she said.

  He bared his teeth at her. “Stay away!”

  His voice didn’t sound remotely human. Cori had to fight the urge to take a step back, or better yet, run like hell. There was nothing of her mate in those crazed amber eyes at that moment.

  “You know I can’t do that.” She swallowed hard. “I’m your mate.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “You are nothing.”

  “That’s not true.” She took a deep breath, drawing on her reserve of courage. “I’m the woman you care about. You kissed and hugged me only a couple of hours ago.”

  Bartol’s gaze wandered around the area as if he hadn’t heard her, zeroing in on the few supernaturals who stood around. “I need blood and death.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  He stiffened when she came closer to him and put her hand on his chest. “What you need is me.”

  “You are hardly worth my time,” he growled, picking her up underneath her armpits and holding her high above him so that her legs dangled nearly two feet off the ground.

  Cori had never been scared of Bartol before, but right then she prayed Ariel’s protection spell held. Otherwise, she and the baby were doomed.

  Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “Bartol, I’m the woman who loves you.”

  She’d finally said the one thing she never thought she’d say to any man again. It was a relief to get it out, even under the circumstances. Bartol deserved to hear the words.

  “No one loves me,” he said, clutching her tightly. “Least of all you.”

  “That’s not true. Look into my eyes and tell me it’s a lie.”

  He studied her closely for several long moments. A hint of recognition lit his gaze, but it quickly turned to distrust. “You left me and rejected me.”

  “That was in the past. Now you are the only man I want—the only one I love.” Cori reached toward him and pressed her hands to either side of his face. “I dare you to kiss me and see if you don’t feel what I feel.”

  Bartol held her there for more than a minute, staring hard at her. Part of him was still caught up by the demon essence, but he was starting to remember things. He just needed a bigger push for full sanity to return.

  “Are you too scared?” Cori asked, taunting him.

  “I fear nothing.”

  She wasn’t going to point out that wasn’t true, not now. “Then kiss me.”

  “I want to kill,” Bartol snarled.

  “Then do it after you kiss me,” she said, licking her lips to tempt him.

  “You are nothing but trouble—always have been.”

  Cori smiled. “But I’m your kind of trouble.”

  Still holding her tightly, he lowered her until their faces met. Bartol’s lips pressed roughly against hers. He left little room to work with, but she managed to wrap her arms and legs around him. His heat was scorching hot and took away the chilly outdoor air. For good measure, Cori rubbed herself against him, feeling a certain part of him harden beneath his pants. One thing about men—even those high on demon essence—was that it was rarely difficult to get their sex drive going.

  Bartol growled hungrily, bracing one arm behind her back and angling the other to thrust his fingers through her hair. His lips trailed down her sensitive neck, nipping at her skin. The vulnerability of the position wasn’t lost on Cori, but she knew she had to give him the time and space to recognize her again. She ran her hands along his back, rubbing and encouraging him. He moved his head upward once more and plastered his lips to hers. This time their tongues met and dueled in a seductive dance. She kissed him with more passion than she’d ever shown before, letting him feel the love she had for him.

  At first, he took all she had while returning little. But as the minutes passed, his hold on her softened. Unaware of their surroundings, Bartol let go of her hair to run his hands underneath her shirt. He reached her tender breasts, kneading them.

  “Cori,” he said, raggedly breathing her name. “You have no idea how much I need you right now. How much I’ve come to love you despite my best efforts to keep my distance.”

  She thrilled at hearing those words, losing herself in his embrace. He pinched her nipple, and she whimpered. How badly sh
e wanted more—much more. But then men murmuring nearby stirred her attention. It took another moment for her to think clearly and remember they stood in the midst of a battlefield, complete with dead bodies.

  “Bartol.” She cleared her throat. “We have an audience.”

  “We…what?” he asked, pulling away to frown at her in confusion.

  Cori was relieved to find none of the previous insanity in his golden gaze. Somehow, she’d done it and brought him back. “Take a look around you.”

  It was then that he finally scanned their surroundings. His father, Remiel, Caius, Lucas, Melena and others stood watching them—most with amused expressions. Even the human troops and authorities were starting to come out of their nearby shelters. Cori had never been more horrified and embarrassed by such a huge audience, but she wouldn’t take back what she’d done. If she’d had to strip down naked in front of a thousand people and dance seductively to help her mate get his sanity back, she would have totally done it.

  “How did…” Bartol grimaced. “What happened?”

  “You lost control, but it’s okay because your father and friends kept you from hurting anyone until I could get here,” she explained.

  Alarm entered his gaze, and he looked her up and down. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” She smiled. “I’m fine.”

  “Is the demon dead?” he asked.

  She pointed at a body twenty feet away that she’d noted when she’d first walked onto the scene. It fit the description, cane next to it and all. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s not rising again.”

  Bartol pulled Cori into a hug. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “I’m glad you won,” she said, smiling up at him. “It would have sucked if you’d let that guy rule the world with his love of bugs and fire.”

  He reluctantly pulled back from her. “The battle was close. Speaking of which…where is Tormod?” She followed Bartol’s alarmed gaze as he searched the area. “He was here before, but I don’t see him now.”

  “I don’t know…” Cori began, both relieved to hear they’d found the nerou and worried that he was missing again.

  Lucas moved toward them. “Yerik and Micah have already taken Tormod back to the house.”

  “Is he alright?” Bartol asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lucas replied, shaking his head. “Melena had to give him some of her blood to help dispel the demon’s influence, but we’re not certain how much it helped.”

  Cori caught the sensor heading off to deal with the authorities, who were beginning to organize cleanup now that the danger was over. There were a lot of bodies littering the area as well as several wounded calling out for help now that the danger was over. She had no idea how many people came from each side and prayed most weren’t from theirs.

  “What about Kerbasi?” Cori asked, noting the guardian’s absence. She’d spotted everyone else she knew.

  Caius joined them and pointed toward the side of the warehouse. “He’s over there.”

  Cori squinted in that direction, sifting past countless dead insects, scorched areas on the ground, and a few unfamiliar bodies before she found the guardian’s. He lay there, still and lifeless.

  “Oh, my God, has anyone checked on him?” she asked, giving them all reproving looks.

  Lucas shrugged. “We were going to get around to it sooner or later.”

  As much as she hated the guardian, he had come as a volunteer to fight and risk his life for their side. That counted for something in her book. She raced over and knelt next to him.

  “He’s not dead if that’s what you’re worried about,” Bartol said, coming close behind her.

  She scanned Kerbasi’s body. “How do you know?”

  “He’s breathing.”

  Cori focused on the guardian’s chest, ravaged by a terrible burn wound that left a deep crater across most of it. The rise and fall of his breaths were barely perceptible, but Bartol was right. Kerbasi wasn’t dead.

  “He’s in bad shape,” she said, touching the guardian’s forehead softly.

  Bartol kneeled next to her and pulled her hand away. “He’ll survive.”

  “What happened to him?” Cori asked.

  “He took a couple of lightning strikes from Haagenti while protecting Patrick.”

  She gave her mate an incredulous look. “He fought the demon one on one?”

  “He did. For a few minutes, anyway.” Bartol hesitated, glancing at the guardian. “He was severely wounded and could have given up—no one would have judged him for it—but he purposely took another hit just to buy Patrick extra time to get away. That was the strike that felled him for good.”

  “He really meant it when he said he’d risk his life to make amends with you.” Cori rubbed her face. “And I didn’t believe him.”

  Bartol’s jaw hardened. “It hardly makes up for nearly a century of torture.”

  “But it counts for something, right?” At least, it did to Cori.

  “Perhaps a little,” Bartol conceded.

  Lucas and Caius walked up to them. “We should take Kerbasi back to the house. Micah can help him recover from his wounds after he finishes with Tormod.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Cori agreed.

  One of the guys got an SUV pulled around, and they loaded Kerbasi into the back. Melena stayed behind so she could work things out with the authorities, but she promised she’d get a ride back with her DHS partners after she finished. As they drove away, Cori took in the full battlefield, feeling guilty that her part had been rather small compared to the others. It looked like everyone was wounded one way or another while all she suffered from was a little exhaustion. Still, she was thankful the people she cared about had made it out alive. It could have been worse.

  Night fell as they traveled back to London. Despite the random scorch marks on the roads and the dead locusts everywhere, many people had turned on their holiday lights. They emitted bright cheerfulness and hope after an otherwise bleak and dark day. She could hardly believe tomorrow was Christmas Eve. If all went well, they’d take Lucas’ private plane back to Alaska and make it in time to celebrate the holiday at home.

  They pulled up to the house. Lucas and Caius took hold of Kerbasi and carried him inside to his bedroom. Cori and Bartol found Micah tending to Tormod in the front reception room where the nerou lay still on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. Yerik hovered nearby.

  “How is he?” Cori asked.

  “Physically, he is recovering well,” Micah replied. “But mentally, it’s as if he’s retreated somewhere deep inside his mind where we can’t reach him.”

  Remiel appeared in the room wearing a fresh white robe, and his damaged wings had been hidden away. Many of his wounds were either fully healed or almost there. He kneeled next to the nerou, touching his head. For several minutes, everyone held their breath.

  Finally, the archangel withdrew. “He is in there, but he does not respond to me.”

  “What do you mean?” Yerik asked with a growl.

  “His mind is living inside a nightmare—one he cannot wake from until he conquers it.” The archangel met the daimoun’s gaze. “There is no telling how he’ll behave once he returns to full consciousness.”

  Yerik clenched his fists. “How long will he remain like this?”

  “It could be days, weeks, or more likely… months. I cannot say for certain, but I do believe he stands a chance of returning to full consciousness eventually.”

  Cori’s heart broke. The point Remiel left out was whether that would be a good thing for Tormod or not. If he came back as himself, he might feel shame or guilt over what he’d done. Should he come back as something else, they might have to put him down.

  “I want to take him to his mother so that she can care for him,” Yerik said.

  The archangel nodded. “Agreed, though you must return to your duties afterward. Also, I will be checking on your son regularly to ensure he does not become a danger to your mate or anyone else.”


  “I will see to him daily as well,” Bartol added. “It’s the least I can do for him.”

  Yerik gave him a grateful look. “I would appreciate that.”

  Cori felt for the daimoun. He no doubt wanted to take care of his son himself, but he still had two months left of his punishment. Until that was over, he had to continue training the nerou in Ireland. Only after that could he return to his mate and son permanently.

  “Then we are agreed,” Remiel said, nodding at Yerik. “I would suggest you wait until tomorrow to take your son—give yourself and him some time to recover.”

  The daimoun nodded. “That’s soon enough, and it will allow me to watch over him for the night.”

  Cori gestured at Micah, getting him to follow her and Bartol out of the room before speaking. “You need to check on Kerbasi. He’s in bad shape.”

  “Show me,” the nephilim said.

  She and Bartol led him through the house to the guardian’s small room near the back. Lucas and Caius had settled him on the bed, but they hadn’t stuck around to do anything more for him. Kerbasi was a bloody mess and needed to be cleaned up.

  Micah knelt next to him, putting a hand on his head. “His natural healing is not working nearly as fast as it should.”

  “Remiel is already looking better, and the demon hit him with similar strikes,” Bartol pointed out.

  “The archangel is at least ten times older and more powerful than Kerbasi.”

  Cori dragged her worried gaze from the guardian, who still showed no signs of consciousness. “Can you help him?”

  Micah grimaced. “I can heal the wound on his chest for now, but he’ll need to rest and recuperate from the rest of the damage on his own. There is only so much I can do with injuries this extensive before my powers are drained completely.”

  “Whatever you can do is better than nothing.” Cori gave him a grateful look. “Just try to make him comfortable.”

  “Of course.”

  They stood quietly while the nephilim worked, hands glowing as they hovered over the gaping wound in Kerbasi’s chest. It took nearly fifteen minutes to close the hole and knit the skin back together. The guardian’s breathing was a little easier after that.