Dying Dreams (Book 1 of Dying Dreams Trilogy) (22 page)

“Have you ever heard of a bond between fae? A romantic bond?”

He shrugged. “Sure, it’s really rare, though.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not that rare. Rice and I are bonded.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, El. I’m scared…” The tears started then. “I’m scared I’ll be like her. That my bond with him will eclipse everything else in my life, even good sense.”

He pulled her in tight for a hug. “You are not your mother. You are my wonderful, smart, sweet, caring Liza and nothing is ever going to change that.”

She rested on his shoulder for several long minutes. “I need you to promise me, Ellison. Promise me if you ever see me doing something stupid or ignoring the other people in my life, you’ll tell me? Promise me you’ll talk some sense into me?”

“I promise, Li. I’ll hold your head under water until you see sense. But it won’t be necessary. You are not your mother.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Sweetie. Are you going to see him?”

“Yeah. I have to. Being away from him is making me crazy. I hate it, but ignoring it is only going to make it worse.” She’d have to convince Reynolds to let her have the morning off, but considering that Reynolds needed her for her dream, she thought they could reach an agreement.

“When you get back, I’m going to want to meet him. Bond or not, if I don’t approve, he’s out.”

“Of course.”

*SLOANE*

Sloane leaned against the wall in the shifter-owned bar, waiting for Moon. They’d been watching the pack house and seen nothing out of place, but the local police in Greenville just kept getting more and more calls about wolf sightings. Since Moon was in town working in the bar, Reynolds had sent Sloane there to talk to him. Even at seven in the morning, the bar was open, serving breakfast to the few shifters who stopped in before work.

Sloane was annoyed and pissed off, because he suspected Moon was doing everything he could to find the rogues and that Sloane, Fulsom, and the other two agents on the case were just wasting time to make the government feel like they were doing something about the wolves. There wasn’t an agent, fae or otherwise, who wanted to face off against a pack of rogue wolves, and Moon knew it as well as everyone else.

Sloane didn’t have to go far to dig up anger, but right behind it was a hurt he knew was irrational. It wasn’t Liza’s fault she didn’t feel the bond, and he could understand how crazy it must have sounded to her. He could even understand that she would have felt like he was pushing too hard when he sent her flowers and called her roommate and showed up on her doorstep all in the same day. He probably seemed completely unhinged to her. He seemed completely batshit crazy to himself.

It was taking everything he had to stay in that bar, to not look at his phone to see if she’d called, to focus on his job and not think about her smooth, dark hair and big, brown eyes. He had to get his shit together. He was acting like a moony sixteen-year-old girl.

He’d turned to the bar, thinking a drink might be just what he needed, screw policy, when a hand gently caressed his neck. His first thought was of Liza, and then he remembered that she didn’t feel the bond and had made it clear she didn’t want him.

He shifted to meet the emerald green eyes of a female wolf, one he’d never met before, in a halter dress that clung to her curves. She smiled, and part of him hated her for not being Liza, but another part of him fully appreciated her beauty and, even though no part of his body responded when she pressed herself against him, he wanted so badly to want someone other than Liza that he didn’t push her away.

She wasn’t who he wanted, but he was going to go crazy if he didn’t do something about the bond. He had to get Liza out of his head, and maybe kissing another woman would do it. He knew wolves were trouble and he knew he should back away, but when she pressed her lips to his, he grabbed her waist, pulled her tighter against him, and kissed her back. He felt nothing. She was a good kisser, her body felt warm against him, but he felt no more attraction than that, and he only wanted Liza more. When she stuck her tongue in his mouth, he didn’t pull away even though he wanted to, he had to give the test his full effort, after all. But, still, he felt nothing. And feeling nothing, he heard the gasp.

Sloane pulled away and peeled the woman off him. He saw Liza in the doorway of the nearly empty bar, watching him, and his first thought was a thrill of joy that she was there, that she’d come to see him. Then, he realized what she’d seen and he knew he was in trouble.

The voluptuous wolf, her hands still on his waist, chuckled. “Oh, yeah. There’s someone here to see you. I couldn’t let her in the bar, so I came to give you the message myself. Did I forget to mention that?” Non-shifters weren’t allowed in the bar, unless they were a friend, lover, or relation of a shifter.

“You bastard,” Liza said, her voice low, her hands clenched in fists. The door was a good ten feet from where he stood, but he could hear every word. He crossed to her, his feet moving before his brain agreed.

“Liza, please, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“So you weren’t just kissing this half-naked bimbo? Was that a glamour of some sort?”

“No. I was kissing her, but I didn’t want to be kissing her. I wanted to be kissing you…” He stepped up to her, close enough to touch her, his hands aching to reach out.

“Is that why you slept with her last night, too?”

“What? No? I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Save your lies for someone who cares, Rice. I’m done with you.”

Her words terrified him, but also pissed him off. “You made it very clear you didn’t want me. You didn’t feel the bond. You were done with me long before I kissed…” He looked at the wolf and she smiled at him sweetly.

“Hetty,” she said, and licked her lips. “But you can call me whatever you want.”

“Argh,” Liza growled. She took a step forward, then visibly restrained herself. “You don’t even know her name?”

“No, like I said, I just kissed her, that’s all.”

“You’re an asshole and a liar. I can’t believe I ever fell for your stupid story about a bond. I actually felt bad for you and it was all some line.”

“It wasn’t a line.”

“Then why the hell were you kissing her? You claim you’ve got some bond to me and you sleep with the first girl you see?”

She turned to storm out to the parking lot and all he saw was red. He was angry at himself, he was angry at Hetty, and he was angry at Liza for not even giving him a chance to explain. When he got really angry, he got calm, so he sounded laid-back and apathetic when he said, “Well, you weren’t here, were you, darling? You know what they say, if you can’t love the one you want…”

She froze. She just stood there and didn’t move for a full thirty seconds. “Love the one you’re with,” she said, her voice breaking. Then she turned and gave him a slow, warm smile that made his heart race and his blood move from his head to other, more important parts of his body. She walked back toward him, her hips swaying. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in, her breath hot on his face, then she kneed him fast and hard in the balls. He fell to the ground and gasped for air, tears stinging his eyes as he watched her walk away.

Once he’d gotten his breath, he ran after her, but she was gone. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Ellison.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Ellison said, when he picked up. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“I haven’t said anything, yet.”

“I know Liza was on her way to see you, and she was going to put herself out there for you. The fact that you’re calling now means you screwed up, which means you hurt her, which means I’m going to have to kill you. Slowly. With dull objects.”

Sloane’s balls were still aching and the idea of more pain made him very glad he wasn’t anywhere near Ellison. “I just need her phone number. She was here. You know she wanted to talk to me. Please give me her number.”

“She’s not there now, which makes me think you did something. If she wanted to talk to you she’d still be there. Sorry, man, she’s my best friend. I can’t help you.”

“Fine, yes. I screwed up. She caught me kissing another woman, a wolf, but she’d pretty much told me to fuck off so I don’t understand why she was so mad.”

“Why the hell were you kissing another woman? It had been less than twenty-four hours since Liza told you to fuck off. Were you really going to give up on her that easily?”

Shit, shit, Sloane knew he was an asshole. Ellison was right. “It’s the fucking bond, man. All I can think about is Liza, and I can’t see straight. I thought if I kissed someone else I could get her out of my head and I could focus.”

“Did it work?”

Sloane slumped. “No, the kiss only made me want Liza more. And now she’s never going to speak to me again.”

“Hold on,” Ellison said. “Liza’s calling.”

Sloane paced in the parking lot, the hot sun beating down on him, while Ellison talked to Liza. He could imagine all the nice things she was saying about him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Ellison hung up on him, but he came back, roaring mad. “You slept with the wolf?”

“No. Give me some credit. You know wolves, man. They love causing trouble. Hetty said that to Liza to get her riled up. She kissed me when she knew Liza was watching to stir things up.”

“I believe you, but I can’t take your side on this, dude. You screwed up majorly.”

“But if she’d just listen. I could explain.”

“It’s not just the kiss, it’s what you said.”

Sloane racked his brain trying to figure out what he said. “I was mad, but I don’t remember saying anything too horrible.”

“The song lyrics, asshole. I mean you either have the worst luck in the world, or you are a flaming idiot. What you said to her was the worst possible thing you could have ever said.”

“I don’t understand—” Sloane had just said the first thing he’d thought of, probably because a re-make of a classic song with those lyrics was currently being overplayed on the radio.

“And I’m not going to explain it. It’s not my story to tell. I’m just saying, if you ever want to see her again, you are going to have to do some major bowing and scraping. Major. It wouldn’t hurt to send me some flowers, too. You made my girl cry and that’s pissed me off.”

Sloane’s heart stuttered. He’d made her cry? He’d hurt her and now she was alone and he couldn’t do anything about it. She’d been willing to talk to him, to try to work something out and he’d blown it. It wasn’t in his nature to bow and scrape, but he had to admit he’d screwed up and he would own that and make it up to her, if he could. “I’ll do whatever it takes. For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. The idea of losing her, I just can’t…”

“You don’t have to tell me, I get it. The only reason I’m still talking to you is because I get it. Figure out what you want, dude, and make it happen, or you will lose her and I won’t help you out again.” Ellison hung up and Sloane dropped to sit on the porch step where he’d been standing. Ellison was right, he needed to figure out what he wanted. He needed to get his own head straight, before he could talk to Liza.

*LIZA*

When Liza got back to Marcy’s she was wired. She hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and she’d drunk enough coffee to fill a swimming pool. On top of that, her whole body was antsy, like it wanted to turn around, get on the bus, and drive back to Sloane, whether her brain wanted to or not.

There was a vase of flowers on the doorstep and she almost kicked it down the hall, but she checked the note first, to make sure they weren’t for Marcy. She saw her name and Sloane’s name, but she didn’t read the note. She took the flowers back outside to the dumpster next to the building and pitched them in. Hearing the glass shatter was satisfying on several levels.

She didn’t feel like facing Reynolds and explaining why she had no dream to report on, and she already had the day off, so she went inside and made a list of every salvage yard in the area. She took it and her bag, filled with a few library books about ocean drilling, down to the bus stop.

She spent the next three hours visiting parts of the city she’d never had any reason or desire to visit before and discovering that no one had any old ocean drills lying around. Then she expanded her search to salvage yards in the surrounding towns, but still nothing. It had been ten years since the last ocean drilling had ended, but no one had forgotten the devastation humans had wreaked on the planet. How could they when everyone still lived on energy rations? Ten years and the carbon levels in the atmosphere were still dangerously high, the planet still warmer than it had ever been, and parts of the world that humans had once inhabited were still uninhabitable. Scientists claimed that the energy rationing and the complete end to pollution would allow the carbon content of the atmosphere to lessen, but the change wasn’t occurring as quickly as they or anyone else had predicted. Many people were afraid to live close to the oceans, despite the energy restrictions and attempts to shore up the coastlines. Hurricane season grew fiercer every year and more and more of the coast was lost. Tourists vacationed in Greenville, but more and more locals moved away every year. More businesses shuttered and even enrollment at the college was dropping.

Liza supposed that made the seaside a perfect place for fae to settle – fewer humans could only mean fewer questions.

The bus let her off three blocks from a salvage yard on the outskirts of the city, practically in the country. She might not have found the salvage yard at all, but the guy running the salvage yard in Winterville had suggested it. She hadn’t found it in her research.

There was no sidewalk to take her safely to the fenced in, gravel-lined junkyard, so she walked down the street as the late afternoon sky darkened to evening. The houses were run-down, looking barely inhabitable, but there were people on their stoops, chatting and laughing, babies screaming, and kids running around playing. She walked quickly, making eye contact with no one. She was nervous and she hated herself for it. She’d heard stories about what happened in bad neighborhoods and she’d always avoided them. Her family had been solidly middle class and she’d attended schools where most of the kids came from middle or upper class families. Her experience with the poor was nonexistent and, though she regretted that, she just wanted to get to the scrapyard, get the information she needed, and get home for some take out.