The Dream Crafter (18 page)

“No, it isn’t,” she replied, pushing his hair back, wrapping the silken strands around her fingers.

He nuzzled into her hair, breathing her in, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight to his chest. “No, it isn’t,” he repeated, and he held her there close, crushing her into him.

“Merc-”

“
Shh
,” he interrupted. “I want to stay like this. I want to forget for a moment.”

“Forget what?”

“That real life intruded on our dreams.”

Amana tucked herself under his chin, getting closer. “Do you think we can get past this?”

His breathing remained even, the heartbeat strong underneath her ear. He took several moments before he answered. “I don’t know. I know we have to survive this next week first.”

“I feel like my emotional life is nothing but a roller coaster lately.”

“Well, I never had a typical teenage love life. Maybe this is the universe’s way of righting that wrong.”

Amana snorted, then covered her mouth as giggles escaped, turning louder and louder and she couldn’t contain it, but she was grateful to have this laughter here with him, even after everything.

He was looking down at her, the softest look in his eyes. “I don’t know what will happen. Let’s survive this next week and see.”

She nodded.

He pushed her to the stairs. “Go take first sleep shift. I promise,” his voice rose to overtake hers when she began to talk, “I promise I’ll get some sleep tonight.”

She nodded again and went to bed.

‡

C
ool blue light
bathed Fallon as she descended the stairs to the open archway. With no door to impede progress she stepped through, into a scene that at first glance gave the impression of a normal, upscale club – medium level music, loud enough to dance, quiet enough for conversation, with tables and booths surrounding a dance floor with a stage, all the while wait staff milling in the type of quiet competence only money seemed to bring forth.

Only on second glance did new details emerge. An overabundance of leather and corsets. Necklaces that upon closer inspection were collars. Chains and clamps of the finest metal, both attached to the furniture and some of it decorating various personages.

Not where she usually hung out on weeknights, and Fallon stood a moment to take it in.

“Black leather, instruments of pain, an occasional scream or whimper – I’m surprised I didn’t realize earlier this is just your thing.” Laire rounded a corner and came into sight. Laire was in leather as well, but black – not so much. How was it possible to get leather that shade of neon orange?

“What are you doing here? Or is this just luck I happened to catch you on one of your play days?”
Sloppy. Fucking sloppy.
She’d kick her own ass later for not realizing the pint-size nuisance had followed her.

With an abrupt sweep of her hand and roll of her eyes, Laire said, “Listening to you talk, you’d think I live in places like this. Besides…
me
? Let people give me orders? In what realm does this happen?”

A stunning Indian woman passed with a tray of drinks balanced by one hand, her corset so tight Fallon could have encircled the tiny waist in her hands. At the sight of Laire, a smile lit the corseted woman’s face. “Laire. I thought you weren’t coming back until next month. Do you need a collar?”

“I’m playing it by ear tonight, Sonal.” Sonal nodded, but by this point she was staring at Fallon, curiosity and interest clear in her gaze. When her eyes met Fallon’s, Fallon gave her a wink. Sonal’s cheeks flushed in a very becoming way, and without missing a beat went back to the bar, her six-inch heels giving a delicious swing to her walk.

Once the woman was gone Fallon turned to Laire, saying nothing and letting her raised eyebrow do all of her questioning. Laire shrugged. “I never said I’ve
never
been here. Girls with their college experimentation and such.”

“You’ve never gone to college.”

“I didn’t say it was my experimentation.” As Fallon’s hands settled on her hips and she made another visual sweep of the room, Laire continued, “I know you’ve never been here. I’d hear about nothing else for weeks if you were. Deciding it’s time for new scenery?”

“The Battle Mage has found you out. There is still time to leave.”

I am not discussing this again, and I’m not leaving.
“Laire, if I wanted you to know, I’d have invited you in the first place – And don’t think we’re not having a long discussion about the whole
following me thing
in the near future.”

Laire
pfttd
. “Sure, mighty Dragon Slayer, watch me shake in fear.”

“Just…go home.”

“Oh
hells
no.” In the play of light and shadow across her face, Laire’s face lost its usual softness, and now her features were a blade, sharp and battle-ready. “You don’t do this alone. I don’t care if you officially tell me about it or not – go ahead, give me plausible deniability. I’m still standing with you.”

“Any plan that involves the Master Vampire is the wrong action. Even she knows this. She follows you out of loyalty, not out of believing this is the right choice.”

Officially not listening to you as of now, so please, though I know there’s no breath to waste, how about you give it a break?
Fallon held firm against the urge to rub her head against the ache that was forming there. “Fine. Since I can’t get rid of you, I guess we’re going together.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time I heard that.” Laire took her arm, and together they stepped forward.

As they walked deeper into the club, the innocuous décor became sparser, the obvious accoutrements of whips and ball gags and the like coming more to the foreground. The only thing that didn’t change were the signs of obvious, overwhelming wealth. “I need to find the Crimson Room,” Fallon said as she took everything in in quick, unnoticeable glances, blueprinting everything in her mind should she need it later.

“Why do you think I know where that is?” Under Fallon’s unblinking stare, Laire gave an offhand motion. “That way, elevator in the back right corner, takes you straight there. Crimson room is crème of the crème. Who are you meeting that deserves that?”

“Plausible deniability, remember? Otherwise I would have brought you here to begin with and used your membership number.”

“I so do not have a membership number. They don’t have those here.”

As they made their way to the back, a man came to stand in their path. He was tall and good-looking in a dark and brooding way. The suit spoke of wealth, and the body beneath it spoke of long hours at the gym.

Seeing as he wasn’t moving, Fallon shifted to walk around him, but he side-stepped to remain in her path, ending up only inches away from her. He was a couple inches taller, enough that he could peruse her figure in what he probably thought was in seductive display. “A woman as beautiful as you should have a collar.”

Laire piped up. “And if you’re meeting who I think you’re meeting, a collar would be a nice choice. A little extra neck protection is never a bad thing.”

Resisting the urge to bop Laire for that remark, Fallon instead focused on McDom in front of her, giving him the most uninterested look she could plaster on her face. “Doesn’t go with my outfit, but thanks for the fashion tip. Now I have places to be, so excuse me.”

The man did not give up, mirroring her movements yet again. “You should be dressed in nothing but silk, deep red, and I would make you a collar the same gold of your eyes.” He leaned forward a scant inch, tilting his head in a way that highlighted the fantastic bone structure of his face and had probably been practiced multiple times in front of his mirror. Lowering his voice to a seductive rumble, he said, “Deep down, every woman desires to submit.”

Yeah, he was good-looking, and no doubt that line had dozens of women wanting to be chained up for him, but come on – she had a sword strapped to her back that was as big as he was. Shouldn’t that put the guy off? Fallon glanced over to Laire for guidance, only to see the mage’s eyebrows arched high in surprise. At Fallon’s look Laire shrugged her shoulders high. “Don’t ask me. I’m not the one who thinks that’s a good line.”

“As if I don’t have enough BS to look forward to.” This time Fallon maneuvered around the man before he could get in front of her.

A hand shot out and grabbed her above the elbow. “We haven’t finished speaking.”

As Fallon turned to face the man, every person around them within several feet stepped back from the pure menace the redheaded woman was projecting. Even Laire took a step away. The man faltered, his hand loosening though not falling away, and for the first time the smug assuredness was missing from his face.

“Laire?”

“Yes, Fallon?”

“The rules of the Club don’t allow him to touch me, do they?”

“Nope, completely against the rules. No touching unless permission has been established.”

“Oh, goody.” Fallon stepped forward into the man’s personal space, pressing her forehead hard against his, her lip curling in a snarl, and in a voice that resonated with a terrible echo, said,
“Go away.”

Wannabe couldn’t move fast enough after that, half-tripping as he turned tail. As Fallon glanced around in an instinctive check for other threats, instead what was apparent was the intensity of several of the men and women as they looked at her, an ill-defined eagerness that had them stepping forward with hesitant motions.

Laire glanced around too, and with a growl of disgust stepped forward to grab Fallon’s elbow, leading her to the elevator with determined steps. “Stop that. You’re riling up the subs.”

“He started it!”

In quick time they arrived at the elevator, and now as the mood once again became weighted. Fallon began, “Laire–”

“I’m not asking questions,” Laire interrupted. On her face was a serious expression Fallon saw only in intimate and dire situations. “I’m here to back you up.”

“It’s not necessary.”

Neon orange was not made to go with such a grave countenance. “I’m not sure if it makes me more nervous to believe you are saying that because you are trying to protect me, or if you are saying that because you really think that’s true.”

“I’m not giving myself a headache to figure out what you said.” But Fallon’s hand on Laire’s shoulder was gentle as she ushered the tiny mage into the elevator.

The ride was brief, and the doors opened to a waiting Zemar. “Lady Fallon.” He did not acknowledge Laire as he led them both to the two large red doors at the end of the hall.

In front of the doors Fallon glanced down at Laire. One thing to be said for a long partnership – your partner often knew what you mean with just a look. Laire rolled her eyes again but nodded, and Fallon turned to Reign’s bodyguard. “Laire is waiting here. I will take an attack on her as an attack on me.”

He never looked at Laire, but he said, “We will defend ourselves, but the mage is as safe as you are.”

Not exactly the most risk-free promise, but as that was as good as she was going to get, Fallon left Laire behind and walked with Zemar into an interior room, more opulent and private. With a bow he let himself out.

The Crimson room was aptly named. Not garish as she feared, but instead everything about it spoke of elegance, the red hues dominating similar to the shading in Reign’s eyes.

She went farther in, past the living area, into a lush room with furniture in dark, sumptuous fabric. Amongst gorgeous silver filigreed chains which fell in waves down walls and whips and crops of finely crafted leather stood Reign, with danger and sexual power clinging to him in a way the pitiful boy from downstairs could never hope to replicate. For the first time Fallon understood the draw of this lifestyle. Saw, at least in small measure, the allure.

That deep, rich voice shook inside her as he spoke. “Fallon.”

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“When have I ever turned you away?” He pulled on a chain, the silver links sinuous against long fingers. “I am glad my meeting spot was acceptable.”

Fallon moved to a wall where chains hung which were so delicate, they were more decorative than durable. The metal was cool as she wrapped one around her left wrist, twisted and turned until it encircled her, then pulled until her arm was between them, the chain pulling taut. “Interesting accommodations. Can’t say I’ve ever thought to try them before.”

Reign’s answer was in the way his eyes turned hungry, the red depths boiling as they fastened on where the filigreed metal bit into her skin. His only words, though, were, “I will see to it the man who accosted you is dealt with.”

Fallon freed her arm, the chain giving a small
clink
as it fell against the wall. “Do I look worse for wear? Don’t insult me by inferring that idiot could possibly do anything.”

The silence grew heavy around them. They faced off, neither willing to give an inch. Fallon fought against speaking first, but he was here at her invitation. The power was his, and he wielded it without pity. She spoke. “You know why I’m here.”

“Hmmm.” He neither confirmed nor denied. She was on the hook, and he was letting her squirm.