by Caris Roane
“Did this woman also have blue eyes?” He asked.
“She did.”
“I believe you met my wife.” He explained about how she’d brought Natalie out to the Graveyard as well.
Talya listened intently. “But Officer Grant, how did you find me in the first place?”
He was surprised to hear her address him by name. He supposed Emma or one of the nurses must have told her who he was. “It was a routine call from one of the neighbors whose house backs up to the Graveyard. Because wolves were involved, I got summoned to help out.”
Talya dropped her gaze to her hands folded on her lap. She grew silent and swallowed hard a couple of times. When the nurses started to move toward her, Emma lifted a hand in warning. The nurses backed off. Emma went to her and hovered both hands above her head.
Talya’s shoulders relaxed and some of the tension left her face.
Grant got it. Emma worked with trauma victims night and day. She’d seen everything. She clearly knew when a patient needed to talk, and when she needed a restorative moment.
It wasn’t long before Talya lifted her chin then met his gaze once more. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. He searched her face. She now wore a hospital gown and the injuries on her arms were fully healed. Her color was much better. Still, he honestly didn’t recognize her. “I’m sorry, Talya, I don’t recall having met you before.”
Her lips turned down, then she bit her lower lip, hard. Her head bobbed once. “My husband died in Savage several months ago. He was shot to death outside one of the Strip Clubs. Several of the Border Patrol officers were there. You were one of them.”
He looked away from her searching his memories. He didn’t speak his thoughts aloud, how there were shootings every damn night. Talya’s husband had been one of hundreds over the past year. If Talya had been there, he might have turned his back to avoid seeing her pain. There was only so much an officer could absorb each night, each week, each difficult, horrendous year.
Finally, he met her gaze again. Maybe more information would help. “What month was this?”
“February.”
He frowned. Something about this woman and February began to hit some memories, a kind of clanking deep within his mind. He could recall getting word of a shooting on the Savage Strip, outside a club called Rock Hard, a real dive known for gaming and flame-enhanced sex.
“Was the club called Rock Hard?”
“Yes.”
The clanking grew louder.
He’d pulled up. Four other patrol vehicles were already there. A woman, with long red hair stood in the middle of the street. She must have been Talya. She’d covered her mouth with her hand and tears had streamed down her face as she stared down at the body of her husband. He’d been shot at least a dozen times.
Talya had lifted her gaze to him. Now he knew why he’d blocked it. Her story had chilled his blood because she’d spoken straight to him. “My sister was killed last week in the Graveyard. Before that, she’d been shot up with sapphire flame and used in a secret gambling club here in Savage, for her futurist gifts. The place was called The Sapphire Club.” Grant had never heard of it before. Afterward, he’d been unable to locate anything resembling an establishment by that name. Talya had continued, “They’d used my sister to predict winners and losers then she’d been killed for knowing too much. My husband was looking into her death. When will this end? What’s wrong with you people?”
She’d run her accusing glare, rightly so, around every club owner and officer there and every gawking human who’d come to enjoy the violence of Five Bridges. There would be no investigation of her husband’s murder. He was fae and a citizen of their under-policed and under-prosecuted world. That’s why Five Bridges had its own Border Patrol. They were a cut-off ghetto nation not subject to U.S. laws and justice.
He understood why the U.S. had made the decision to force their kind, the five alter species, to live separately from the States. Any human who entered Five Bridges forfeited justice as well. There was no guaranteed safety in their set-apart world.
“I remember the night now, Talya. It was a terrible situation. Had your sister been in this gambling club by choice?”
“Yes. She was being paid a portion of the profits. They paid her all right. They took her life. Later, the night you were there, the owners said my husband had gambling debts and that’s why he’d been killed. But he wasn’t a gambler. I think it was because he’d asked too many questions about my sister’s death.”
Grant processed what she’d told him. But this had happened months ago. “I recall looking for The Sapphire Club, but I couldn’t find it. You’re sure your sister gave you the right name?”
Talya released a heavy sigh. “I know she did because she took sapphire flame to heighten her futurism. I begged her to quit, but she wanted the money.”
“I’m sorry, Talya.”
Her features took on a familiar, weary look and not just because she was recovering from a near-death mauling. This was life in Five Bridges.
“All that to say,” she continued, “I haven’t exactly found peace in Revel. But I do remember you. I remember you were kind to me that night. Several of the officers were. But no one could help me.”
Grant wanted to ask about the attack that had landed her in the Graveyard, but Natalie suddenly caught his hand and squeezed. Her voice entered his mind. She needs to rest. See how pale she is?
You’re right. Aloud, he said, “I’m sorry we had to meet again under such extreme circumstance, but I’m glad you made it.”
Her smile was twisted. “I’m glad you did as well.” Her gaze slid from Grant to Natalie then back. “Thanks so much, both of you.”
Natalie leaned forward. She still had hold of his hand probably to keep him in check. He was amused by it and decided not to let go. “Get some sleep. When you’re feeling better, let’s get coffee.”
“I’d love that.”
Natalie finally drew her hand from his. Since he was closest to the curtain opening, he led the way out. When he reached a private distance a couple dozen feet away, he turned to her, but spoke quietly. “I want to thank you again for all that you did, start to finish. I appreciate it.”
Her smile was crooked. “You can thank your wife and my Glock. You did the rest.”
He chuckled. “I admire your cool head.” He swept an arm in the direction of the med-bay, “And for checking into the future to figure out how to bring Talya back.”
She blew the air from her cheeks and rubbed her back. He wondered if she’d gotten hurt out at the Graveyard. “Least I could do. I thought for sure we’d lost her.”
“Same here.” He glanced toward the entrance doors. Dawn was coming. He needed to get back to Savage. “Are you headed home?”
“I am.”
“Feel free to say no, but would you mind if I accompanied you home? I’d feel better knowing you were secure after the night we’ve had.”
She put a had to her cheek and shook her head. “You know, I’d like that. Most of the time, I can tolerate our world, but tonight, yeah, it’s been rough.”
With another sweep of his arm he gestured toward the front doors. She put her feet in motion immediately. “Dawn’s getting close.”
“I’m feeling it, too.”
Once outside, she added, “We’d better get a move on.” She didn’t say anything more. Instead, she launched into the air, a solid shot that took her forty feet up with barely a show of effort. He caught up with her swiftly.
He flew beside her to her canal-side home and descended into her backyard. He had a quick impression of a structured, almost Mediterranean garden. He hovered in the air a couple of yards above a gravel path as he watched her enter by the back slider.
As she crossed the threshold, she turned toward him and for a moment she looked as though she wanted to say something. Instead, she waved, then closed the door.
He had the o
ddest sensation she’d just shut him out. But he supposed that wasn’t a bad thing. The woman, as beautiful as she was, with all that flowing, curly hair, was fae.
He rose swiftly straight up then vaulted south as he headed to his burrow home not far from the Meldorin Compound. Along the way, he contacted Ryan telepathically and let him know he would soon be bedding down for the night.
Ryan then informed him that Kryder had left the compound an hour earlier. Grant doubted he’d return, perhaps not even for a few days. He’d been doing that a lot over the past year and a half. Grant didn’t mind. With Kryder gone, his wolves would be safe.
Once inside his burrow home, he locked down the surface dwelling then headed to his living quarters belowground. He showered, secured his long hair in a fresh braid, then climbed onto his bed of furs.
His last thought before falling asleep was a wish that he was still human, that Natalie was as well, and that he could ask her on a date.
But she was fae.
He was a wolf of Savage.
There was nothing more to be said.
Still, he wished it otherwise.
Chapter Two
Later that morning, during his day’s sleep, a dream brought Grant to a half-waking state.
In the dream, he stood upright and looked around. He wore only his pajama bottoms which was exactly what he’d donned before bed.
At first, he couldn’t figure out where he was, except the location felt oddly French. He was in some kind of interior garden, inside what looked like an ancient, stone castle. It also felt familiar, as though he’d seen pictures of it recently, though he couldn’t remember where.
The shape of the garden was rectangular with stone pillars separating the castle structure from the garden. Overhead, the sun shone down on the grass and plants. His alter wolf senses, however, told him he was three hundred feet above sea level yet very close to the ocean. He swore he could smell the salt air.
Another scent rose to greet him as well, something he associated with Natalie, the fae futurist that had helped him rescue Talya from the Graveyard.
His thoughts shifted abruptly to events of the night before, of realizing it was the woman who had fired the weapon and saved his ass.
Natalie.
She’d levitated beside him, knowing he’d been seriously wounded. She could have freaked out, instead, she’d gauged his abilities just right and together they’d saved Talya and he’d gotten the help he needed.
What a woman, even if she was fae.
As dreams often did, the garden shifted slightly. He glanced down at his feet and could see through the grass at least twenty feet below.
There she was.
Natalie.
Asleep on her bed, or at least he supposed it was her bed.
She slept on her side, her mass of curly brown hair spilling over her bare arm. She shifted her head slightly on the pillow then rolled onto her back. She grimaced and lifted her chin. Her lips parted. Somehow, it was the most seductive thing in the world. She even licked her lips.
Odd the way dreams could conjure so much detail.
What was she dreaming about?
For a powerful, lustful moment, he wished it was him.
But as quickly as the thought came, another memory intruded as hard as a slap across the face, of losing his wife because of the chaos of Five Bridges. He’d made a dozen promises to himself to keep his eye fixed on what needed to be done in their world. More than anything, he was committed to sustaining order within the Meldorin Pack and keeping everyone safe from Kryder’s ineffective and brutal leadership.
He drew a deep breath. He had enough self-knowledge to understand that the two thoughts were related: His desire for Natalie and his need to sustain order in his pack. Natalie threatened his goals, even in his dreams.
He lifted his gaze skyward. He was looking up this time and the sun was on his face. He loved it.
Then he recalled exactly where he was: The cloister garden at Le Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy, France.
Kiara’s Revel refuge had a painting of it not far from the emergency bays. He didn’t understand why, except in this painting the tide had come in and had made an island of the ancient monastery.
Five Bridges was that kind of island, cut off from the rest of the world by prison-like walls, guards and thousands of yards of barbed wire curled back and forth through each territory. The five alter species, created by a devastating serum, had been at each other’s throats for thirty years.
His gaze fell once more to Natalie below his feet. She rolled her head on the pillow and moaned softly. In the dream, he drew closer as though collapsing the distance between the grass of the garden and the vision of her on her bed.
Closer and closer until the grass disappeared and he was hovering above her. In her sleep, she lifted her arms and slid them beneath her head. Her eyes were still shut.
He’d noticed how beautiful she was at the hospital. But as he watched her, he saw a faint smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. They almost weren’t there.
She looked very young.
Her lips parted again. He resisted the urge to drag his thumb over her lower lip. She drew in a ragged breath, then spoke his name aloud, “Grant.”
Had she really said his name?
Of course, this was his dream and he wanted her saying his name.
She lowered her arms and pushed the covers away. She wore a silk nightgown. Her movements were sensual, and his body heated up.
A sensation of danger and distrust returned. She was fae. Her kind, with futurist abilities had hurt his kind. He wanted to leave the dream, yet somehow couldn’t. He pictured the cloister garden once more and, voila, found himself there again. Unfortunately, now, he had a raging erection.
What the hell was it with this woman?
~ ~ ~
Natalie slowly awoke. She knew she hadn’t been sleeping all that long. Her alter senses told her it wasn’t even noon.
She sat up in bed and realized she ached between her legs. What on earth had she been dreaming about?
Right.
Grant.
Of course.
She had it bad. She’d just met him, yet he’d somehow invaded her thoughts and her dreams so that all she felt was a constant need for the man.
She slid her hand between her legs and pressed hard trying to force the sensation to abate. It was as though her celibacy of the past several years had ceased suddenly and all she could think about was sex.
She’d been dreaming about France and the island community of Le Mont Saint-Michel. It was the strangest place called a tidal island. At times, when the tide was high it flowed all around the monastery and created a true island. The water could be as deep as fifty feet. But at low tide, the monastery was surrounded by land.
A memory intruded. She and her husband had honeymooned there though it seemed like a million years ago.
She flopped back down on the bed. She thought she’d turned all the lights out in her house, but an eerie light shone from above.
When she looked up, really looked, her breath shuddered.
What the hell?
She could see a man walking in a garden, but her view was from beneath him? The angle made no sense.
Then she understood. She was caught in a dream within a dream.
She relaxed against the pillows and let it come.
The man wore long cotton pajama bottoms and no shirt.
She decided she was too far away and wanted a better look. She closed her eyes and imagined herself closer.
When she opened her eyes, she could only smile because she had conjured Officer Grant.
Of course.
The man of her dreams.
She could even laugh at the thought, but her amusement faded and gave way to serious perplexity. Was he the man of her dreams?
She rubbed her forehead and watched him as he paced across the grass.
The garden was open to the sky, yet it was enclosed between stone wal
ls with elegant arched openings.
Then she realized she was looking at the cloister garden at Le Mont Saint-Michel.
She released a deep sigh.
What a beautiful dream what an extraordinary man.
He was a god. That was the real problem with Grant. He had to be six-five at least, which she really liked since she was just shy of six-foot herself. His shoulders were broad, and he was extremely well-muscled as many of the wolves were who served on the Five Bridges Border Patrol.
His heavy, well-defined shoulders flared to a broad back that angled to a narrow waist.
She watched as he turned and headed back in her direction. He had a taut six-pack. His pj bottoms hung below his naval and her tongue made appearance swiping at suddenly dry lips.
She was having trouble catching her breath and the ache between her legs became a dedicated throb.
It was only a dream. Why not engage with him a little? Why not talk to him? Maybe do other things? What could it hurt?
She remembered his long light brown hair covered in blond highlights. His braid, which many of the wolves wore and often in different configurations, ran down the center of his back almost to his waist. He was frowning heavily.
She felt a sudden and profound compulsion to go to him. She could see he was troubled, and she wanted to help, to ease his distress.
She rose the rest of the way so that now she was in the garden as well and only a few yards away.
He stopped as he caught sight of her. His brows rose. “You’re here. I was trying to send you away.”
Odd words.
“You don’t want me here?” She could only smile. It was her dream and he was telling her he was opposed to being in her dream. She chuckled softly. “You were frowning.”
“Was I? I guess I was.” He appeared to debate something in his mind then finally said. “This is a very real dream.”
“It is. And you’re wearing pajama bottoms.”
His gaze fell to the purple silk nightgown she wore. It had a simple design and hung loosely over her though the bodice revealed the tops of her breasts. His gaze got stuck there.