I cannot take my eyes from her; yet, something about her draws me nearer that has nothing to do with the fine outward shell she dons. Even in her dreams, she was extraordinary.
Unfortunately, dreams do not always represent well the dreamer. I never truly know who I have until the recruit is in my domain. One of my first recruits was actually a man who only appeared as a woman in his dreams. Since that mistake, I have learned to differentiate at least gender. Luckily for me, I was not entombed in this prison and was able to take the man back unharmed.
Everything from outward appearance to perceived character traits can be different than what a dreamer shows me. I curse myself for not showing her my true form in the Dreamscape, but I took what I thought was a necessary precaution.
Amelia hasn’t responded as I hoped she would. She does not recognize me in any way. I could tell her who I am, but would she believe me? In the past, all I had to do was command a recruit and she would obey me. It appears women have changed quite a bit in the last few millennia.
I have to stick to the plan. My team will not think too highly of me if I don’t. Maybell will throttle me for sure. She is my best trainer, yet I will have to find the right way to introduce her to Amelia. Not many mortals have accepted my team in their true form, but we no longer have the option of concealing them. Perhaps Amelia will be different. First, she has to acclimate to me and my reality before I can introduce her.
Pink lips move, but nothing comes out. Is she praying to a god that could never hear her in this place? Is she saying goodbye to loved ones?
I shake my head. Impossible. She has no one. Another reason she is here with me. I could not leave her in the mortal realm a moment longer.
Her body tenses when I step closer. Apart from her initial outburst, she has been calm. Finally, I make out her words: Wake up.
I smile. She thinks she is dreaming still.
I can have fun with this. Fun does not come easily to the keeper of the Netherworld.
When I’m two feet away she shifts back and thrusts out a shaking hand. She speaks at last, and her voice is the sweetest sound that could ever exist, although her words are a harsh command.
“Stop!” she says.
I don’t.
I can’t.
She scrambles backward and jumps to her feet, facing me in a fighting stance. With the stealth of a cat she rocks to her toes and shifts her upper body as if for a quick escape. Eyes wild, body coiled, she might as well be hissing at me.
I want to laugh. There is no escape from hell.
Disregarding my native impulses, I let her thoughts congeal before I destroy her hopes. The giant pendulum behind her punctuates the sound of her pulse. Swoosh plunk, swoosh plunk, swoosh plunk…The sound usually soothes me, but in this moment I cannot countenance another swoosh.
Even though I have no desire to frighten her, she has to see this is real; I only have until morning to make her mine, and I have wasted enough time as it is hoping to calm her before I shatter the foundations of her existence. My mind twists on a dark thought. She will know I am real if I touch her.
Working to still my breath, my senses heighten, slowing time. She is not ready for my fake, and I easily catch her wrists before she can bypass me. She kicks at my shins, and I let her momentum topple us over. Her eyes fly wide while we fall toward the carpet, and I know she expects pain from me. I eat her fear like a fine brulee, savoring each moment. Her emotions drown me until I am overcome.
The instant we crash to the floor, she struggles to get away. Her scent surrounds me, intoxicating me, threatening to steal my focus. It has been too long since I’ve held a woman in my arms. I’ve dreamed of this moment for years, yet somehow I imagined a different scenario. “There is no escape,” I tell her. If there was I would not be here.
For the briefest of moments our gazes merge. She swallows, her eyes searching mine as if she is trying to see my core. My muscles harden in anticipation of her next move. Even though I would never admit it, the words she utters cut me to the soul.
“You’re a nightmare,” she insists. “You can’t hurt me.”
I hear the desperation in my voice; however, stopping my impetuous reply is impossible. “Nightmare I may be, yet I assure you I am as real as the blood that flows in your veins.”
Doubt flickers across her face. She still does not believe this is her new reality. I glance over my shoulder toward the fiery pit that abuts this room with no end—my prison.
My curse.
Flames burst forth at my bidding, rushing toward us. She gasps, and her face contorts with fear the moment she feels the heat. I take pleasure in her realization and let it go too far. The inferno consumes the carpet, the sofa, even my prized hound succumbs. She is unaware everything will reappear at my command—everything except her.
Her expression morphs into one of utter terror. My own terror crushes my chest as a fierce cry escapes her throat. A few seconds more will find me holding a pile of ash. My blood freezes in my veins. Why have I done this?
The instant I sever my connection with the flames, they plummet into the abyss until the next time I call them.
Her voice rushes out on a gust. “What are you?”
I should be used to this question, yet it pierces me. She will not accept the entire truth at this time, so I offer her a slice of it. A muscle in my jaw jumps, and she stiffens. “I am the darkness, and you are now mine.”
A shudder finds me as I lie in the darkness, remembering the last thing my captor said before he plopped me on his bed and left through the only door in this massive room.
He thinks he is the darkness.
No doubt he’s a monster, yet the world has never seen a more beautiful horror. Neither have I. An angel pales in his shadow—with his dirty blond hair and blue eyes that are deep as the darkest ocean one second and the next the color of a morning sky. Add a strong jaw and towering height to the mix and what you have is a man that should grace the cover of a fashion magazine.
Yet in those beautiful, terrifying eyes I see my death. I’ve been telling myself to wake up for hours. Unfortunately, the burn that covers the majority of my left arm keeps me from sleeping. Where his body shielded mine, the flames didn’t touch me. Unfortunately, the rest of me aches from the contact. It’s the idea of his actions as much as the pain that freaks me out. What a psycho.
I still don’t know what he is or, worse, what he wants from me. I have to find a way out of here. I have to find a way to escape him. This can’t be real.
This can’t be real.
My eyes blur with unshed tears. What the hell is happening to me? Justine tried to prepare me for life, but she could have never prepared me for this.
The lights flash on, making me stiffen. I wipe my eyes and squint against the sudden glare. Not waiting for him to speak, I spin toward the wall, even though his quiet approach tells me there’s no way he’s gonna leave me alone. A soft touch hesitates then rests on my shoulder. I shrug his hand away as if it’s acid.
His grunt makes my muscles bunch. If he were an ordinary man I might have a chance in combat. I’m quick when I need to be—even held my own with some of the roughest thugs in Seattle, Vegas, and recently the hopping metropolis of Provo, Utah.
It doesn’t matter where you go. There are always people hoping to bring you down with them.
My captor’s hand flits over my arm, rubbing in some sort of salve that takes the sting away but singes my nose. I would thank him, but he did this to me so he doesn’t deserve it. My jaw clenches against the velvet strokes of his fingers. I’m gonna ignore his soft touch if it’s the last thing I do. There’s something seriously wrong with him. There’s something seriously wrong with me. Have I totally lost my mind?
His dark voice fills the room. “I—”
His hesitation trips me up, and I almost turn around. Before I can move, though, he continues, “I have so much to explain to you. I’m sorry for…what happened earlier. I haven’t been around people in a whil
e, and you surprised me.” He pauses, his hand still resting on my arm, but only for a moment. “I can hardly believe I finally have you here. In time, you will adjust, even come to love this place.”
I face him in a nanosecond. “Did you really just say that to me? Hello, you seriously can’t be that wacko. I mean, come on. You stole me in the middle of the night and brought me to your lair like the freaking Phantom of the Opera then you set your living room on fire, torch your dog, not to mention almost me, for what?
“Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I’m not one of those girls who thought Christine should have ended up with the Phantom, so you might as well let me go now. Save us both some trouble.”
He smiles, which makes me clench my jaw again. With a tight flick of his head, he motions toward the hallway. “You want to go?”
I jump to my feet, ignoring the sting of his hand sliding down my arm. I’ve seen weird. I’ve even seen freakish. But I’ve never seen something like him.
A weird sense of recognition wants to take hold of me, but I’m not going to let it. “Where’s the front door?”
His thick brows hit his hairline. “Even if I could tell you that, you have nowhere to go. Do you not wish to know why I brought you here?”
How can he not know how to get out of his own pad? “No.”
“No?”
I’m lying, but I’m scared. He knows too much about me. How? I don’t want to acknowledge the shiver that travels over my skin. I nod in his direction. “Exactly how long have you been stalking me?”
His eyes come alive, yet he gives me a casual shrug. “Quite some time, although stalking might not be the best description.”
I send him a disgusted frown. If I do figure out a way to ditch this place, will he find me again? “Well, you’re not exactly offering me a better explanation. Don’t you know how creepy this whole thing is?”
A slow smile covers his mouth. “Creepy isn’t the worst thing to be.”
His world must totally suck.
I smack my lips together before I lock eyes with him. “So—are you ever going to tell me why you brought me here? I figure if you wanted to kill me I’d be dead.” I try not to let hope or fear show in my eyes. Who knows just what is going to set off this freak?
In the amount of time it takes me to process what he’s doing, he’s at my side. This sudden burst of speed sends panic to my veins, but his calm voice stills my pulse.
He leans over, his lips a breath from my ear. “I’ll tell you what,” he says. “If you can find a way out, I’ll let you go.”
My heart stutters then speeds like a racecar toward the finish line. There has to be a way out—he came and got me for the love of bald eagles, and since he’s offering… “I’ll take that deal,” I say, sending him a cocky glance I’m not feeling at all.
He smirks a challenge at me. “Go ahead.”
I open the door and glide into the hallway, puffing out my chest, getting my swagger on. Other than frying my arm, he hasn’t made a move to hurt me, so oddly enough I’m almost comfortable around him, like it’s okay to be myself. It’s just a matter of time before I discover the hidden latch to my freedom. He doesn’t know how tenacious I am. He’s also right behind me, and I’m hyper aware of his every move. My skin tingles from his nearness. We’ve got something weird going on between us, but heck if I know what it is.
I’m tempted to check his face to see if I’m headed the right way, but I keep my back to him. Flickering tapers set into curly candelabras drape the space in a caramel glow. Although extremely cool, it’s not much light to go by, which, makes it twice as hard to see where this hallway leads. The super strange part is there are no other doors or even windows, just a dingy corridor that seems to stretch on forever. I stop to tug every sconce, thinking one will give under the pressure and unlock the door to my freedom. No such luck. I bristle at my captor’s dark laugh but keep going.
After a few minutes of getting nowhere, I sprint forward, running as fast as I can on the uneven surface. His feet thud against the stone behind me. While my lungs ache so badly I’m worried they might burst after only a few minutes, his breathing is even.
The hallway stretches forever in front of me like an endless highway to Nowheresville. One thing’s for certain: I’m getting nowhere, so I slam to a stop and bend over, sucking in wind.
This is the worst shape I’ve been in. I got kind of lazy when Justine took me in five years ago. At first, after she found me, I made life pretty difficult for her, thinking she was just going to ditch me too. Wouldn’t you know it, the minute I thought I’d have her forever is when she died. Being with her was the only time I’ve felt safe in my whole life. I should have known it wouldn’t last.
Psycho dude inches closer to me, and I snap up, turning to face him—the door is right behind us. It looks different from this side, as if it is ancient. The wood is splintered and pitted and the huge doorknob seems oddly out of place. There’s a slot big as a wallet, maybe for a skeleton key, but I’ve never seen a keyhole that big. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this is a different door entirely.
No way. There is no freaking way. I blink a couple times just to make sure my eyes are working right. When the effort yields the same result, I lower to my haunches to check the cobbled floor. If this thing’s a conveyor belt, I’m a red banana.
Something is wrong with this place, with this man. I swallow, fear trickling to my gut. With as much composure as I can muster I say, “You’d better start giving me explanations, buddy. Why am I here? What is this place? Who are you? I don’t even know your freaking name!”
Deep blue eyes flit toward the door. When he looks up again, he holds out his hand.
I shake my head. I’m not touching him on purpose. He’s not far from me. He could snatch me up like he did when he barged into my living room and grabbed me like I was some sort of errant livestock, but he doesn’t.
His voice is barely audible. “Come with me. If you’re ready now, I’ll explain everything.”
My heart pounds against my chest. This is it. All I have to do is stay calm and she won’t know; she won’t figure it out. If she opens the door first, she will have a choice to leave and, given her history, she will. There is no way I am letting her go now, no matter what the rules are. Even if she manages to see through my bluff, I’ll figure something out to keep her with me. I motion for her to move ahead, but she refuses like I want her to.
For her to be tied to me, this has to be her decision—her mistake. I reach for the handle with controlled movements, hoping I don’t give anything away. A smile spreads on my lips when I face the door and block her access. The cool metal knob twists, and I push the door away. With practiced movements, I lead her into my shrine.
My whole body sighs once she is over the threshold. This girl might just have what it takes to break my curse. She is determined enough, bright enough, lovely enough, so why does the heaviness of fear still linger in my heart?
Like an unpracticed youth, I am not sure how to start the conversation. After a while she grunts, so I dive in. “You are of the blood.”
Her face pales, and I’m lost in her confused eyes. “Blood?” she asks before she visibly gulps.
Maybe not the best thing to start with. I offer her a smile, yet she flinches. Am I that frightening? Disheartened, I drop my gaze and pace the room, attempting to make myself less obtrusive. “Long ago…”
Despite the wildness in her eyes, she chuckles before she speaks, and the sound startles me. I could stare at her for hours, days, years, but we have work to do. “In a galaxy far, far away,” she says, still smiling.
I like her smile. It brightens my mood as well as a full moon on a cloudless night. That aside, I still don’t know what she means. “To what are you referencing?”
Dark brows furrow, making me want to smooth the lines on her forehead. Her mouth opens on a quick breath as if she is going to tell me something important before her eyes harden. “Nothing. Go on.”
&nb
sp; “Have you ever heard of the Oneiroi?”
She tries out the word. “Oh-near-ee?” I nod. She considers this for a moment before she says, “Um, no.”
Explanations will be difficult. If there was one thing I used to be able to count on, it was the passing on of legend within a community. What has happened to her world? I take a deep breath and hold it, attempting to solidify a plan. Best to start with something she will understand. “Where do you think dreams come from?”
She sits on the couch, her movements waiflike. Confusion narrows her eyes as she takes in her surroundings. “Hey, how did you get another sofa so…” She makes a brief sweep of the room as if to be certain, and her gaze settles on Baltek. Her hand covers her mouth before she points at him. When she speaks, her voice cracks. “Oh my gosh, that dog looks just like the one you fried earlier.”
It takes all my will not to laugh. “I’ll get to that, but please, answer my question.”
Her head bobs in a decisive nod. “Subconscious, right?”
I smirk at her surety. “Not quite.”
She gives me a belligerent stare and cocks her head. “Next you’re gonna tell me they come from you.”
She is smart. “Actually, they do.”
She scoffs and stands up. “Right. So you think you’re the darkness and that you control dreams.”
Not wishing to confuse her further, I keep my answer simple. No doubt clarification will have to be addressed later. “Yes.”
“Whose dreams?”
Not the response I expected. I am encouraged. “Very good question. I have limited access these days, and I need your help.”
Her raucous laughter startles me, while her open body language entices me to join her on the sofa. With regret in my throat, I make myself stay where I am. “Good one. You want me to control people’s dreams?”
“No.”
“No? But I thought you just said—”
This is the trouble with the young, they do not listen. “What I said was I need your help.”
More scoffs before she says, “You have a funny way of asking for help, buddy.”
Dreamscape Netherworld Book I Page 2