Weaver of Dreams (18 page)

Maggie walked across the pavers and bent to retrieve the phone. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the shadows shift beside her and looked up. Her heart stopped.

Emerging from the shadows of the alcove was a man. Tall, with broad shoulders, his powerful chest narrowed to trim hips. Encased in a pair of jeans, his thighs were thick, but not overly so. Maggie could see the play of his muscles work under his clothes as he advanced.

Her eyes traveled back up his body to his face. Now free of the shadows, she could clearly see his strong jawline and patrician nose were the perfect complement to his azure blue eyes.

Maggie straightened. Blood coursed hotly through her veins. Her heart beat in her chest like a stallion running the Kentucky Derby, setting a fast and furious pace. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him.

He wore blue jeans and a black tee shirt instead of swim trunks or a chartreuse sweater, but there was no doubt who he was. Her dream man. His eyes held hers while he bent to retrieve her phone.

He stood and offered the phone to her in his outstretched hand. “I believe you dropped this.” The dark timbre of his voice slid over her like a warm caress.

Their fingers brushed when she reached for the phone, sending something akin to electric current coursing through her. He was real. Here, in the flesh. And what flesh it was.

Yummy!

He looked delicious. Maggie barely kept herself from licking her lips. This man was stunning. A tasty bit of roped muscle and sinew.

Their eyes locked, his were the most unusual blue, just like the man in the dream. His gaze burned into her, seemed to be looking into her soul. She stood transfixed by his stare.

“I’m, Zane,” the man announced, bringing her out of her hypnosis.

He stuck out his hand in her direction and smiled. Maggie took his hand in hers. His fingers were large, his grip strong and sure.

Feeling like she knew him, Maggie forgot they had only met in her dreams. She had not thought to introduce herself. “I . . .” She swallowed, willing her mouth to work. “I’m, Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you, Maggie.”

“I feel like we’ve met before.” And she did. She remembered him from her dreams, but that was not what she meant. She not only got his face and body almost perfect in her dreams, but his name as well. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it? She must have met him somewhere and just not remembered. That would account for the dream image. But if that was the case then, how could she have forgotten meeting such a man?

Perhaps she’d seen him in a magazine. He definitely could be a model.

Zane smiled, and all thoughts left her mind. “Do you have any plans this evening?”

Just to go home and watch TV.
“No.”

“Would you like to?”

Oh, he was smooth. And, yeah, she’d love to have some plans if they could include him. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about dinner?”

“With you?”

He chuckled, the sonorous sound resonating in his chest. “I hope so. We could go somewhere very public. You don’t have to worry about being alone with me.”

Until that moment, she’d been talking to a lover, someone she knew intimately. His statement shocked her into reality. She didn’t know this man. The Zane she knew was from her dreams. This was a real, flesh and blood man. And by the looks of him, a strong man. For all she knew he could be a serial killer or a stalker.

Maggie worried her lower lip between her teeth. Zane’s eyes zeroed in on the nervous movement.

“You’re scared,” he said, his tone softening. “I’d never hurt you, Maggie.”

She saw the sincerity deep in his eyes. It may be insane, but she believed this man who was a stranger, but yet so familiar from her dreams. Trusting someone she didn’t know was not a wise thing to do, she chastised herself. She had been sleeping better the past week and a half, at least she hadn’t had any nightmares, but she was obviously still sleep deprived. No one in their right mind would trust a man who had emerged from the shadows.

Would they?

The look on his face, combination of wonderment and hope, like a child who has just asked his mommy to buy him a special toy in the store, pulled at her heart. It might be crazy, but heaven help her, she knew in her heart she could trust this man, believe in him. Something deep within told her to follow her heart and for once she would—but cautiously.

“Can we eat here?”

“At the mall?”

“Yep. It’s convenient.”

“And public. And you wouldn’t have to go anywhere with me.”

His hurt look dropped her heart to her knees. She’d wounded him with her lack of faith. “Actually, there is a great little Chinese restaurant inside where the food is delicious.”

As he extended his arm, his smile returned, though a little weaker than it had been.

“Well then, shall we go?”

Foster sat in his car, chewing the tip of his finger, waiting for
her
.

Pain is goooood.

“Yes it is.”

He no longer fought the voices in his head. They were much stronger than him. He had to obey them, do as they said. They only quieted when he obeyed.

And he
had
been obeying.

You’re a good boy.

He took her GPS from her car while she worked.

It gave you her home address.

He flattened the tire on her car.

It kept her at work late, so you could break into her home to look around.

He stole her clothes from the drycleaners, making sure to get them before they were cleaned.

Her smell was still on them.

Foster had been watching her for days.

As you should.

Waiting for an opportunity to take her out. She needed to die. He understood that now, thanks to the voices’ careful explanation.

Obey ussssss.

Of course he would do as they asked. “I followed her here didn’t I?”

He had followed her ever since he discovered her home address in the GPS. He sat outside her home, like a cop, and watched. Following her everywhere she went, he waited for the voices to tell him to strike.

Lissssten to us. She diesssss today.

Foster bit harder into his flesh. The coppery taste of his blood settled over his tongue. He closed his eyes, and let the pain absorb into his brain. It felt
so
good. It washed over him in waves of euphoria, giving him the same rush booze used to.

He looked down at his hand. Each finger was cracked and scabbed. His fingernails, long ago chewed down damn near to the quick, were barely there anymore. His hands were chapped from washing them, trying to stop the bugs crawling under his skin. He washed them constantly, only to get little relief.

His eyes went back to the mall entrance. An Asian man emerged carrying his daughter in his shoulders. A white woman came out next, pushing a baby carriage. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the white woman he wanted.

Evan and Maggie sitting in a tree

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

First comes cigarette then comes pain

Next comes their blood goin’ down the drain.

The next people through the door came out in a tight little group, mingling and talking as they made their way across the parking lot to their cars. Foster tracked their progress, watched them get into two vans and leave.

“I wish I had a van.”

It would make taking Maggie much easier.

“Yeah, maybe we should buy one.”

Maybe you should concentrate on finding her.

“I’m trying. I’m here waiting aren’t I?”

Foster shifted in his seat, reaching his bloodied hand inside the pocket of his hoodie. He retrieved a cigarette, put it between his lips, and inhaled the scent of tobacco. It smelled
so
good.

He reached back into his pocket to grab his lighter. After lighting the cig, he held the lighter in his hand. Flick—he lit the flame. A lift of his thumb and it went off. Flick—lit again. Off. Flick. Off.

The movement of his thumb on the lighter was automatic, so much so he quickly forgot he was doing it.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke burn his lungs.

Yesssss. More pain.

“Thought you’d like that,” he murmured to the voices.

Pulling the cig from between his lips, he turned it so the cherry faced him and rolled it between his finger and thumb, watching the fiery end swirl back and forth.

No wonder Maggie enjoyed using one of these on him. It was beautiful. Maybe he would let her feel how freeing the pain of a cigarette could be.

He flipped the cancer stick around in his fingers, and brought it to his lips for a deep inhale. He blew out a heavy cloud of smoke. It hovered in front of his face, obscuring his view for a moment.

When the smoke cleared, he saw
her
, bent over in front of the mall.

His heart pounded in his chest. He cracked his knuckles.

This is it. She is yours to take.

His hand closed around the cool metal of the doorknob. Foster popped the latch. It made a delicious clunk noise. Everything heightened, as it always did when he stopped taking his meds. Foster heard every noise, the sound of his body moving over the vinyl seat, the crackle of his cigarette when he took another drag.

The air around him electrified, sending tiny shocks over him. The sensation was a serious contrast to the feel of the cool air on his skin when he pushed the car door wide and put one leg outside.

The sight of a man emerging from the shadows stilled him. The large man approach Maggie.

He’s going to kill her. Stop him, she’s ours.

“She will die by
my
hands.”

He
had taken her torture.
He
earned the right to her kill with his pain and scars. Foster rose from his car, determined to take out the threat to his vengeance. The woman was his.

No other will have her.

Throwing his cigarette to the ground, he pulled a gun from the pocket of his jeans. With it by his side, he started across the parking lot, murder on his mind.

Get them! Kill them!

Spurred by the voices, his steps quickened. Why had he parked so far away?

We told you to park closer.

Why hadn’t he listened?

You will listen now.

They tried to help him all along. He realized that now.

The man reached for the guidance counselor, grabbed her arm.

He’s making his move. He’s going to pull her into the shadows and kill her.

Foster broke out into a run. No one would take his kill.

He watched the couple turn, not toward the shadows but away from them. They headed into the mall.

What the hell? The stranger couldn’t kill her in there.

Too many witnesses.

“Exactly.”

He must know where they were going. Following them into the mall, Foster tucked his gun in the pocket of his gray hoodie. He pulled the hood up over his head, and drew his face back within the shadows it provided.

Darkness is good.

He stalked behind them. Watched. Waited.

They headed down the mall, meandering at a slow pace. Where was he taking her?

Damn! The man with her was big, taller than Foster by at least a head and probably stronger, given his solid build. Shit! He could see the guy’s muscles moving under his black tee shirt and jeans.

He looked like he just stepped off the front of a magazine. A snort of repugnance left Foster’s throat. The guy probably modeled or something. Maybe Foster
could
take him.

A bullet will not care how strong he is.

Foster’s heart beat a furious pace, his hands fisted at his sides in irritation. He was like a tiger stalking its dinner.

She is your
prey
.

The couple entered the food court, making their way over to the Chinese restaurant. Foster watched through the window in the front of the place while they were shown to a table.

The big man was not killing her. They are having dinner.

How was he supposed to get her now?

Go back to your car. Wait.

“Why?”

She will come out to leave. Get her then.

“What if that guy is still with her?”

Kill them both.

Maggie sipped her diet soda under the watchful eye of her date. Zane’s gaze scrutinized her movements as her lips closed around her straw, watched her cheeks pull in with each draw. He stared, captivated by the sight of her doing to her straw what he’d like her to be doing to him. Zane’s body tightened, painfully.

He’d sat through this torture for hours. Each time her lips slid food from her chopsticks or she crossed her legs, he noticed. He watched the way she tipped her head a little when she smiled at him, and observed the way she gave a nervous giggle each time a little food dropped from her chopsticks.

She was so similar to her dream-self he was tempted to pinch himself just to be sure this was real. Instead, he covered her hand with his. His thumb slid under her wrist to rub over her pulse. It jumped under the pad of his thumb, becoming slightly faster with each pass he made.

He apparently affected her as much as she affected him and it pleased him to no end. Her eyes fell to their hands then snapped to his. Those eyes. They sparkled every time she laughed, like gems dancing in the sun.

“Maggie, tell me more about yourself.”

“There isn’t much more to tell.”

“All I know is that you are a guidance counselor at the local high school. You love working with kids, and you like to shop. I want to know more.”

“Like what?”

Zane leaned back in his chair, settling in. “Tell me your dreams.”

A delicate flush crept up her neck to rosy her cheeks. Her eyes looked away, unable to hold his gaze. She was remembering the dreams they had shared, he felt sure of it. The realization brought a mischievous grin to the corner of his mouth.

He cupped her chin in the palm of his hand, and waited until she looked at him before he spoke.

“What are your dreams, Maggie?” he prompted, refusing to allow her off the hook.

“I-I don’t dream. Not anymore.”

“But you used to.”

“I was plagued with nightmares.”

His fingers dropped from her face in surprise. He had not expected her to share that ugly part of her life with him so soon. Did she trust him? Was she still having nightmares?

“You said ‘was’. Does that mean the bad dreams are gone?”

She nodded. “About a week and a half ago they suddenly stopped.”

“Excellent.”
Good to know dealing with Amnon put an end to her suffering.

“Now if only my luck will improve I’ll be doing great.”

Concern drew his brows down over his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had a bit of bad luck lately. I came out of work one day to find my GPS had been stolen from my car. Then a couple of days later my tire was flat.”

“Do you think the kids could have done it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think they were just coincidences, like my missing dry cleaning.”

“And all that happened in one week?” In the week he had been absent from her life.

“Yeah. Quite a streak huh? But it’s looking up.” A genuine smile reached her eyes. “Now.”

She looked at him from under her long lashes, and took his breath from his lungs. She was beautiful. Her eyes shone with an emotion he dared not name. The lamp overhead highlighted her reddish-blonde hair, streaking it with shiny highlights. Her tiny nose sported just the right amount of freckles.

Zane couldn’t help but reach out to touch her cute nose. He ran his finger down the length of it, surprised when she didn’t flinch at his boldness. His finger dropped to her lips, tracing them. He tugged slightly on the bottom one, pulled her lips apart, and leaned across the small table to close the distance between them.

His lips replaced his finger in a gentle kiss, moving back and forth over her lips. His tongue licked at her softness. Zane absorbed the feel, the taste of her kiss. It was similar to their kisses in her dreams, but yet so much more.

His hand moved to the nape of her neck, held her still for his caress. Zane deepened their kiss. He explored her mouth thoroughly, savored the mix of spice from the Kung Paso Chicken and the sweet taste of Maggie. It was like savoring a foreign delicacy and he quickly grew addicted to the taste.

His heart felt like it would pound through his ribs at any moment. Blood rushed through his body, sent a fiery wave of desire crashing over him.

This was so much better than the dream. A soft mewing sound came from her throat and Zane swallowed the sound, taking it within him. He wanted to hear that again—needed to hear that again.

His tongue retreated, making hers follow. She obeyed the silent command, becoming the aggressor. Her hands flowed up his arms to his shoulders. Maggie’s nails dug into the muscles beneath his shirt, sending a shot of pleasurable pain through him.

He wanted her, needed to be with her. In her. He needed to be surrounded by her. This may be their first time together in the real world, but they had been together several times in their shared dreams. His body remembered her, wanted her.
He
wanted her.

Zane took control of the kiss, thrusting his tongue back into her mouth. It explored the searing recesses, running seductively throughout to claim her for his own.

The sound of a tray of dishes crashing to the floor drew his attention from Maggie. He broke their kiss, sitting back down in his seat. When had he stood? Completely lost in her, he’d forgotten they were in a restaurant.

He looked around and found the attention of the patrons on the server who had dropped the tray. Bless her. Thanks to her mishap, their public display was momentarily forgotten by all.

Everyone that was, but Maggie and him. When his eyes met hers, hunger blazed in their green depths. One of her delicate hands laid over her kiss swollen lips as if to hold the feel of their kiss to her. Those beautiful eyes widened, darkened by her passion. Her breaths came in shallow ragged spurts, causing her breasts to lift and quiver slightly.

She had responded to him immediately. They had a familiarity, thanks to their shared dreams, that broke down the usual inhibitions.

The server brought them their check, breaking his reflection on the beautiful woman sitting across from him. Being a gentleman, Zane reached for the check. Luckily, he had thought to magick a little money along with his clothes.

“I’ve had a great time, Zane.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for our time together to end.”

“Would you like to come to my place for a cup of coffee?”

“I’d love to.”

He put a twenty on the bill, then stood and held out his hand to Maggie. Putting her hand in his, she allowed him to pull her from the table. He intertwined his fingers in hers and they walked to her car in companionable silence.

Zane opened the driver’s door to her car and handed her into the seat. Leaning across her, he reached for the seatbelt, pinning it between the seat and him. Her hair brushed against his face in a tickling touch. As he clicked the belt into place, the delectable aroma of her perfume surrounded him. The mouthwatering smell sent a fresh surge of desire racing through his blood. His hand slid the length of the belt, his fingers lightly brushing her breast.

“Safety first,” he said, giving a gentle tug on the fastened belt before he walked around the vehicle to climb in beside her.

“You too,” she retorted when he forgot to do his own belt.

He examined her sculpted profile when she turned to look over her shoulder as she backed out of the parking space. Her pulse beat a steady rhythm under her flesh. He fought hard to keep from running his tongue over the spot.

Zane had learned from shared dreams that a woman’s neck was one of her most sensuous spots, and couldn’t help but wonder how responsive Maggie would be to a real life suckle. He’d start with her neck, then work his way down, taste every part of her until he became fully sated and she writhed beneath him.

He adjusted his legs, suddenly uncomfortable when his groin swelled to life, and pushed against the zipper of his jeans. He rolled his window down to get some fresh air, hoping it would help calm his libido, and reminded himself as far as Maggie was concerned this was their first date. While he was more than ready to jump into bed and spend the night making love to her, she probably wouldn’t be ready for that. After all, she did not seem like the type of girl to jump into bed on the first date.

The sound of an angry buzz drew him from his cogitation. He knew the sound, heard it in dreams of military veterans.

“What was that?” Maggie asked.

Zane looked behind them. “Someone is shooting at us!”