Bound by Dreams

by Christina Skye

  Her panties followed.

  Kiera shivered at the sudden feel of air on her naked thighs. Pleasure swept, sharp and edgy. His fingers grazed damp skin; she pressed closer, driven to be closer, to claim him fully as his hands were claiming her.

  Hunger snapped. Need took on a hot violence that seemed to fill every inch of the room.

  “There are about a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t be here, why you shouldn’t be touching me. So why don’t they matter? Why—”

  He cut her off, his hands tightening. “You want to have all the answers, but you can’t. You want this to be simple, but it’s not. God help both of us for that,” he said hoarsely.

  He was right. Nothing about this was calm or predictable. What she felt was primitive and infinitely dangerous.

  Calan bit the curve of her ear lightly. Kiera felt his hands shake as he freed her blouse, lifting the weight of her breast into his hand. Her nipple tightened in instant arousal, hard against his fingers, and he lifted her higher.

  Her back shifted against the wall, her legs sliding around his waist. Fabric rustled. His fingers teased, slipping against her.

  Shuddering, she arched her back, welcoming his slow strokes. She shuddered when he muttered her name roughly, whispering in Gaelic.

  He goaded, and she wanted more.

  She gripped his shoulders, feeling warm muscles lock beneath her touch. With her back to the wall, she was anchored, caught against him. And just like that she was there, caught on the edge of pleasure. His fingers slid deep, and she was dragged out of herself with a violence she’d never felt before.

  At her sharp, breathy gasp, Calan moved his palm against her, making hot circles that snapped her back into pleasure again. Blindly, she moved against him, her nails raking his chest.

  Shock bloomed, dragging her up into delirious and consuming pleasure.

  She gave a soft cry and shattered while his arms gripped her and he murmured hoarse Gaelic against her hair.

  As he gathered her against his chest, Kiera had the crazy idea that she answered in the same tongue.

  “Kiera.” His voice sounded hoarse now.

  She blinked.

  Someone said her name again. She realized he was motionless.

  Frowning.

  His shirt was pulled free, his hair disheveled and the marks of her nails lay in faint streaks on his neck.

  She had done that. And she wanted to do more.

  She closed her eyes on a raw, choked breath and rested her forehead against his chest. Sanity was tenuous, but she clung to its thread. “What am I doing? You’re practically a stranger and…and you infuriate me. I’ve never let myself be ruled by my body. I’ve never even been tempted to.”

  “Liking may not be part of the equation,” he said. “Not when something this deep is at work. But don’t tell me this is wrong. It can’t be wrong when it’s pulling us both inside out this way.”

  “Both?” She had to be sure he was pulled as deep as she was.

  “Bloody right. And I don’t do things like this, either, not with a near stranger.”

  “So why is it happening now?”

  “I don’t know. But I have to find out why you make me feel this way, damn it.”

  Kiera wanted to know the same thing. But if he kept touching her, she was in danger of forgetting why she had come to the abbey and all the reasons she had to leave.

  She took a deep breath, feeling his thighs flex against hers. “Just so you know, we are not going to have sex.”

  His lips nuzzled her ear. “Like hell we aren’t.” His hands rose, combing through her hair, tilting her head back until she met his unblinking gaze. “Not right now. Not until we figure this out. But it’s just a matter of time, Kiera. Like tides and Christmas. You know it. I know it.”

  “I don’t trust you,” she whispered. “Maybe I don’t trust myself. What’s happening to us?”

  “You can trust me. I am in this just as deeply as you are.”

  HE HELD HER.

  Touching her like this could be a drug, Calan thought. She was unforgettable, and that made what had just happened very dangerous.

  Because Kiera Morissey was strong and stunning in her passion. Twice she’d shattered in his arms. Twice, with no more than the stroke of his fingers and the brush of his mouth. And that was far less than the ways he hungered to take her.

  Her rare passion called to his own need, crying through his blood. Her heat seemed to summon dark images that felt like memories.

  His muscles flexed as he drew in Kiera’s scent, felt the powerful drum of her pulse, still fired by her passion.

  Inside him the Other woke.

  Calan took a harsh breath. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Elena Draycott’s portrait. Her face made him remember the innocent boy he had been, rather than the man of darkness he had become.

  The boy had believed. The man trusted in nothing but himself.

  Calan’s skin tightened. He felt the draw of power and the wild places beyond the world of men. He wanted the power, tasted it building inside him.

  Then he saw it.

  Two small beads of blood on her pale shoulder.

  Blood from the sharp nails that were barely visible, pricking her skin as his hand began to change.

  No.

  But once roused, the wild thing growled in hunger, prowling restlessly beneath Calan’s skin. Now two beings wanted Kiera’s passion and naked heat.

  Two creatures. Only one of them was capable of any control or empathy.

  Never had he felt both parts of himself brought so close, struggling for control. While their methods would differ, their goal was the same.

  Kiera’s breathless cries. Her hot response beneath his pounding body.

  In silent rage, he fought back the Change. It pounded over him, inches from completion while the images of her climax called to the creature inside him.

  Damn it, there was no reason he could not have her, here against the wall, while she bit and fought him.

  No.

  Biting down a curse, he carried her roughly to the nearest chair and released her.

  Then he walked away. But it wasn’t enough. He could still feel her heat. He cursed the Other. He cursed the way his hands were shaking. He saw the faint outline of dark hair, shifting beneath his skin.

  Dear heaven, never had he stood so close to the edge, torn between the worlds of man and Other, fighting to hold the two worlds apart while his body became the battlefield of his control.

  He couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose. The cost was unthinkable.

  He focused on Elena Draycott’s portrait. Rigid, he remembered the boy who had hoped and believed, rather than the man who trusted in nothing but himself.

  The image held. His skin settled, smooth again. His muscles relaxed.

  The Other growled inside him, twisted in anger and then slowly retreated.

  Dimly he felt Kiera’s hand on his shoulder. “Calan, what is it?”

  He didn’t answer. As he searched for words to explain what couldn’t be explained, she looked away. Buttoning her blouse, she avoided his eyes and she stood up, her body rigid. “I’d better go. Right now. Because this…” She took a jerky breath. “This was a huge mistake.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “LIKE HELL IT WAS.”

  He wouldn’t leave her regretting what had just happened between them. It was too powerful. Now both of them were going to have to deal with that fact.

  Whether they liked it or not.

  He caught her wrists in his hands and pulled them against his chest. Anger fought with deeper emotions he wasn’t ready to face yet. For now it was enough that she stay and admit the power of what they had just experienced. “You’re not leaving, Kiera. We’re not close to being done here.”

  “You’re wrong. This—whatever you want to call it—was a fluke. A delusion. It’s my fault for being stupid enough to let it happen.”

  The breathless hitch in her voice made him flinch.

&nb
sp; “It’s no fluke and no delusion,” he said harshly. When her fingers slipped on a button, he pushed her hands away, finishing the job himself. How to explain what couldn’t be explained, that women didn’t usually affect him this way and that sex was as commonplace as eating or breathing. All those things had been true, up until he had touched Kiera for the first time.

  Now he couldn’t imagine having enough of touching her. So how did he describe things about himself that few would believe possible?

  And how much of the truth could he tell without betraying his oldest friend, who needed his help now?

  “Stop shoving at your buttons and listen to me, Kiera. We’re adults and we can handle those things. You want to walk away because this has hit you out of the blue. You don’t want things that aren’t simple and tidy, black-and-white. But life doesn’t come wrapped in neat little packages. What’s happening here isn’t tidy and it never will be.”

  “I don’t need amateur analysis. I…I thought I needed a friend.” She tried to step around him, but Calan blocked her way. Never putting a hand on her, he held her by the simple power of his voice and his absolute conviction.

  “You’ve got a friend, whether you believe it or not. But a friend tells the truth.”

  Something came and went in her eyes. “Even when it hurts?”

  “Especially when it hurts. What I’m telling you now is that this thing between us is important. If you walk away without answers, you’ll always regret it.”

  She gave a little shrug, as if she wanted to push away everything he was saying.

  “Things that matter aren’t simple and usually they’re not fair. They come at you when you least expect them. They hit you hard, knock you off your feet and leave your world in turmoil. That’s what you’ve done to me,” he said roughly.

  “Hardly a compliment. And I don’t want to be knocked off my feet.” Her mouth was a tense line.

  “Then you lose. Your life will always be the same and your joys will be a slim shadow of what they could be.”

  “I’ll take simple. Calm and practical sounds just fine to me.”

  “The woman I just touched wouldn’t say that. That woman has too much fire and hunger to want her life to be bland or simple.” His hands slid into her hair. “You have to be willing to leap. Sometimes, with the right person, you have to run before you can walk.” His fingers tightened.

  “Stop. You’re…too clever at this.”

  “I don’t want to be clever. I want to be honest with you. I want to get under those layers of anger and distrust you don’t want me to see. When life offers a gift like this, you take it, Kiera. Nicholas Draycott taught me that.”

  She made a tight, angry sound. Her hand fisted against his chest. “Him again.”

  “He’s a good man. He’s your uncle, like it or not.”

  “I don’t like it, believe me.”

  “What happened can be explained. Trust me and trust him.”

  “We’ve done enough talking.” Her hand locked against Calan’s chest. She was staring at his shirt, but he had the feeling she was miles and years away, caught in memories of an unhappy past.

  “Are you afraid of the truth? Will the monsters turn into empty shadows when they’re finally out in the open?”

  Emotion filled her eyes. He watched her try to close down, slowly pushing everything deep, where she could forget it existed. But this time it didn’t work. She took a hoarse breath. “Since you want the truth, I’ll tell you what I see. I see someone who’s used to having things go exactly how he wants. But not this time. Yes, you made me reckless for a moment. You managed it all perfectly, I admit. But it won’t happen again.”

  “Wrong. I’m going to feel you wrap your legs around me. I’m going to hear your voice break when I bury myself inside you. I can’t get it out of my head,” he said.

  She flushed and turned her head away. “That’s never going to happen. Now you can let me go.” She raised her knee until her leg was inches away from his groin. “And unless you want me to do something very unpleasant, you’ll get out of my way.”

  He frowned at the bitterness in her voice. He still had no clue what had caused it. “Why don’t you explain what your mother told you? Talk to me, damn it.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “And talking changes nothing. Besides, we don’t even—” She stopped as Calan turned suddenly, staring out at the moat.

  There it was again.

  His sudden sense of warning had been no mistake. There was a faint blur of movement through the trees on the far hill above the moat. A man with normal vision would have dismissed the motion as a simple play of light and shadow.

  Calan knew better.

  “Get your coat and your bag. We have to leave.”

  Kiera frowned at him. “Now? Just like that?” A faint rumble drifted from the far side of the hill. “What’s that noise?” She leaned toward the window. “Who’s coming?”

  There was no time to explain, not if his suspicions were right. “Get your things,” he repeated quickly. “You’ve got to get out of here. Here’s the key.”

  “Key to what?”

  “The Porsche you’ll find parked just behind the stables. We can’t take my car from the front of the house or you’ll be seen.”

  “I’m not—”

  “There’s no time to explain. Not unless you want your face and your life story captured in a dozen government files by tomorrow morning. And after that, you might end up splashed over the evening news,” he added grimly. “Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not.” She started to fire another question, then stopped. “Is there a way to avoid the front of the house?”

  “There’s a small service road that branches off the back driveway. Take a left at the stables. Follow the road for about half a mile and it will take you to a gate, which is locked. The tumbler code is nine-four-seven-one. Once you’re outside, go left. In about two miles you’ll pass a small church. Make a sharp right and that will put you on the road to your hotel. Can you remember that?”

  She was already gathering her bag and coat. “I’ll remember.” She turned her head as the low rumble of motors grew to an angry drone.

  From the sound, Calan estimated that half a dozen Range Rovers were headed their way. He had to see that Kiera got out fast. “Go. You don’t have much time.”

  She took a deep breath. This time there were no protests or questions.

  SHE HATED HIM.

  No, she only wanted to hate him.

  He was everything she distrusted. He was gorgeous and confident and he’d pulled her in with his talk about the past, making her believe that she could trust him.

  And now she was up to her neck in trouble. Who were these people racing closer?

  Kiera darted past the back garden, following the path toward the low stone building that had to be the stable. She passed no one, and the car was exactly where Calan had said it would be.

  Behind her the motors grew louder, and she fumbled with the ignition. Finally the engine turned over with a smooth purr. There was no sign of movement nearby as she followed the back driveway toward the service road Calan had described.

  Before she reached the turn, another line of dark cars appeared, racing out of the woods. There was no way she could go farther without being seen.

  Her only choice was to go back. With luck she could stay out of sight inside the house until these new arrivals left.

  Quickly she backed up, parking the car where she’d found it. After a short run to the house and back through the kitchen, she took the stairs to the library. She shoved her bag out of sight, then looked carefully through a gap in the heavy velvet drapes. Calan was at the front door, arguing with a tall man in a black uniform. She heard the words Draycott, security and unacceptable. The man in the uniform shrugged and held out a cell phone.

  Calan spoke briefly, then gestured toward the row of black Range Rovers. His frown grew as half a dozen men moved over the abbey lawns.


  What was it, some kind of full-scale military operation? Kiera caught a little breath. Staying no longer seemed like an option. She had to find some way to get past them.

  Three more uniformed men trotted toward the house. With small metal cases in their arms, they appeared to sweep the ground, turning as they moved.

  Was this some kind of contamination check? But the reason didn’t really matter. All that mattered was getting out without being discovered. The last thing she wanted was her connection with the Draycott family to be noted by a gung-ho security organization, even if they were the good guys.

  Kiera watched Calan pace near the door. He was still speaking on the cell phone, and the team of uniformed men paid no attention to him, focused on their work.

  What to do?

  She looked around wildly. Down the hall she saw the bend of the broad marble staircase. An idea hit.

  It was unexpected, dramatic and just a little bit dangerous.

  She smiled grimly.

  It also might work.

  “BRIGADIER, this situation is unacceptable.” Calan crossed the broad foyer, then turned to face the man in the black uniform. “I have already notified Lord Draycott and you may be certain a complaint will be raised with appropriate authorities.”

  “Complain all you like. I have a job and I mean to do it. Since my electronics team happens to be free, I’ll complete this part of my preparations today.”

  It could be true, Calan thought. But the bloody man was enjoying every second of this invasion. At least his men hadn’t begun ripping up the lawn and installing surveillance equipment.

  Yet.

  “And one more thing. I’ll be watching you, too. Lord Draycott told me about you, MacKay, but something is off about your records. I always perform a thorough search on anyone I work with and yours has gaps. Big gaps.”

  Calan glanced outside, hearing more trucks race toward the back of the house. He muffled a curse. Now Kiera’s route out would be blocked.

  Hell.

  “Oh, darling. What in the world are those trucks doing? And what is taking you so long?”