Dream Bound (18 page)

Maybe the fact that he was totally honest about being a jerk.

“I told them I was on duty but said I’d be off at eight and asked if they wanted to join me in my room then.” He shook his head. “They said no, that it took too much energy to maintain form during the daylight hours without their soulstones. Then ... well, they said they’d come to my cabin tonight, before my shift. I guess I’ll find out later if I was dreaming, or if they do show up, they were actually there in the shack with me, too.”

“Lizzie.” Mac spun around and stared at the youngest of the group. “You’re the first to have a full daylight shift. Did you have any weird dreams? Did anyone come to you?”

Lizzie shook her head. “No, and I’m feeling really left out right now.” She pouted, but then she couldn’t hold it and giggled. “I did project my fantasies the way we were supposed to, and no, you do not get details.”

“Aw, c’mon, Liz. Please?” Finn wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the top of her head. “Just a hint.”

“Absolutely not.” Still giggling, she twisted out of his loose embrace. “However, if—and that’s a big if—I have any actual visitors when I’m in my cabin, I will be sure and let you know.”

“You notice she said ‘visitors,’ plural, didn’t you?” Finn grabbed her hand and tugged her close. This time Lizzie leaned against him and sighed.

“You noticed that, did you?” she said. “Believe me, Finn, when I fantasize, it’s not going to be about one guy, and definitely not about you. Nothing personal, but if it’s entirely up to me, I want my own harem of sexy, gorgeous, and willing men.”

“That’s the spirit.” Rodie gave her a high five and the two women slapped palms.

Mac realized he was staring once again at the painting, though he was fully aware of the teasing going on around him. It was all good. Even better than he’d hoped. It sounded as if Rodie, Finn, and Cam had all been visited. He figured Liz might have visitors once she went to bed tonight, and he was almost certain Morgan would connect as well.

But for Mac, the proof was here, in front of him. In the bold brush strokes Cameron had left across the large canvas. In the tiny details that only became visible after studying the painting more deeply. The man was truly a brilliant artist, but it also appeared he’d shared the vision of a Nyrian who had lived on this world.

Now where in the hell was Zianne? Obviously, her people were beginning to connect to his team, but why not Zianne? Hell, he guessed he’d see her when she wanted him to. Or not. He spun away from the painting, effectively spinning away from thoughts of Zianne as well. For now. “I think we’ll hang this here in the lodge. Is that okay with you, Cam?”

The kid gave him a big grin. “I’d be honored. Where?”

“Over the fireplace? It’s a non-polluting wood burner. The glass doors keep the temperature even and the smoke is all filtered, so I don’t think the painting will be damaged there. I want it where everyone can enjoy it.”

Mac really wanted it in his room where he could see it as the last thing when he went to sleep and the first thing when he awoke, but it was too beautiful to hide away.

“That’s perfect.” Cameron’s smile lit up his entire face. “Thank you.”

Mac nodded. “Good. I’ll have Ralph hang it as soon as he gets a chance. It really is an amazing piece of art, Cam. I will treasure this. Even more, Zianne will love it. It’s a beautiful image of the world she and her people have lost. Thank you.”

The others moved away, back to the table and the plate of sandwiches. Mac stood in front of the painting, staring at the lush colors, the vivid landscape, thinking of Zianne. Obviously, they’d already made contact, but why not him? Why hadn’t Zianne come to him?

He spun around and caught all five of them staring his way. The words spilled out of him without Mac even thinking of how much of himself he was giving away. “I have a favor to ask. When you’re in the dream shack, if you happen to have a chance to engage in any conversation with anyone in your fantasies, will you please ask what’s happened to Zianne? I haven’t heard from her, and I’m worried something’s wrong. More so, now that I know some of you have already been contacted. I need to know if she’s okay. If she’s been imprisoned or something worse.”

Shit. If they’d had any question of his relationship with Zianne before, they didn’t now. But did it matter? He hoped not.

“I will, Mac.” Rodie glanced at the others. “We all will.”

“Thank you.” He turned away before he made a bigger fool of himself and walked quickly to the door. Went outside and stared across the unforgiving landscape.

“Where the hell are you, Zianne?”

There was no answer. A squirrel chattered from the branch of a big Jeffrey pine growing near the lodge, but he ignored it and headed across the open area to check the array. He had to keep busy. Had to do something, anything, or he wouldn’t be of any use to anyone.

Ralph met him halfway across the open area between the lodge and the shack. “Ralph. I was hoping to run into you.” Mac paused and wiped the sweat off his forehead. It was damned hot, but August at seven thousand feet could be miserably cold, too.

“I’ve been looking for you, too, Boss.”

“What’s up?”

“Those damned protestors are at the front gate again. Gave Meg a bad time when she left to go into town for supplies.”

“Bad time? How so?”

Ralph removed his ever-present ball cap, wiped his bald head with a clean handkerchief, then stuck the hat back on his head. “They blocked the road and tried to hold the gate closed when she opened it. Called her a lot of bad names. She got through, but she was pretty upset about it. I plan to meet her with a couple of guys from security when she’s due home.”

“Crap. You definitely need to be there, but whatever you do, don’t start anything. Use one of the bigger cameras on the entry, one that covers the entire area where they’re demonstrating. Make sure we’re able to record whatever it sees.” He sighed and stared down the long driveway. “I wish I knew what their problem was.”

“I’m hoping they’re just a bunch of good old boys that don’t like to see change, though I’m wondering if they’re as harmless as the sheriff has led us to believe.”

“Why do you say that?” Mac folded his arms across his chest. “Because of the way they acted with your wife?”

Ralph shrugged. “Yes and no. They had no right to harass Meg, but the security guys walking the perimeter last night thought they heard someone on the downhill side of the fence. That’s all open country and could have been a bear or coyote, but the two I talked to didn’t seem to think so. Said they thought they heard voices.”

“What the hell would anyone be doing down there?” The area surrounding the array was nothing but rugged volcanic cliffs and a dense cover of sagebrush and stunted pines. “The entire area is fenced. There’s no way in unless they want to tangle with the wire across the top.”

“Exactly. Which begs the question—why was anyone down there at three in the morning?”

“Three?” Mac shook his head. “Guess I’d better call the sheriff and let him know we might have another problem.” He nodded to Ralph. “And I’ll let him know about the hassle they gave Meg. There’s no excuse for that.”

“Thanks, Mac. Why were you looking for me?”

“Sorry. Got sidetracked.” He rubbed the back of his neck, well aware of the tightness in his muscles, the sense of strain that continued to grow. “There’s a painting I want you to hang. One of our guys is a well-known artist. He painted it last night. I’d like to see it hanging over the fireplace, but be careful. It’s oil and the paint’s still wet.”

Ralph tipped his hat. “Gotcha. I’ll get to it now.”

Mac watched him walk away. Then he turned and stared at the array, at the white dishes glistening in the sunlight. Kiera was in the dream shack right now. He wondered how she was doing, what she was seeing.

Then he turned away and grabbed one of the four-wheelers Ralph and the security guys used to get around the property. Maybe it was time to check out the protestors.

9

K
iera glanced at the clock. It was almost one, which meant she’d been trying to get this blasted daydream stuff working right for almost an hour. Frustrated, she stared at the patch of blue sky through the skylight overhead and tried, once again, to lose herself in fantasy. Usually, it was no big deal—hell, she could fantasize during court proceedings and still win her cases.

So why not here? She was comfortable, she’d worn her super-soft yoga pants and the loose, cropped tee that showed her flat belly. No bra, no underwear. Even her feet were bare so she’d be totally in touch with her body.

She’d thought about going naked until visions of one of the guys walking in and catching her had nixed that idea in a hurry, but she was as comfortable, as relaxed as a girl could be, and it still wasn’t working.

She’d settled in, pulled up explicit mental images of Liz and Rodie—because face it, the sisters were hot—but some big, dark guy kept butting in.

No way. She was so done with men.

Three serious relationships with guys, and every single one of them had tried to rearrange her face. What was it about the males of the species and their testosterone-fueled power trips? Three losers out of three were pretty sucky odds, especially when it had taken a restraining order to keep number three, the ex-husband, off her back. No more. She was done with men. Stupid Neanderthals, every last one, ruled by their balls not their brains.

As if they even had brains. She was really beginning to wonder. Hell, she didn’t want a man in real life, and she definitely didn’t want them screwing with her fantasies.

Especially
didn’t want them in her fantasies, though she had to admit, pulling that gig on Finn had been worth sticking his imaginary cock down her throat. The guy was hot to look at, but he was still a guy. The best part about that whole thing had been showing him what a fool he was. Watching him shoot his load in his pants had been great payback. Idiot. Forget it. She was done with men. Forever.

So who the fuck was the guy barging in on her fantasy?

No one. She’d never seen him before, wasn’t interested, and refused to waste time thinking about him.

She stared at the blue sky and tried once again to let her mind float. Okay. Not floating. She’d try visualization.

I am a cloud, light as air and, oh, yeah.

There was Lizzie beside her, nuzzling her breast, and yeah, okay. This was working. Rodie sprawled between her legs with her mouth against Kiera’s inner thigh, leaving little love bites on the tender skin.

Kiera moaned. She did love the teasing.

Sighing, settling back in the comfortable recliner, she closed her eyes as her fantasy took shape. Then her eyes opened and she glanced at the dials on the readout. Had to be the lawyer mentality, but she needed to know that her thoughts were headed skyward.

The little needle was right where it was supposed to be. She let her lids droop once again. Just in time. Lips encircled her right nipple, sucking and licking, even nipping with sharp teeth. A different warm mouth worked her left nipple just as carefully, flicking over the taut peak with the tip of a very mobile tongue.

Teeth scraping one side, a tongue flicking the other, and thick ... thick? Whose fingers were those, tracing her labia, slipping into her warm, wet pussy, trailing back over her perineum? Hell, they were even teasing the taut little ring of muscle on her ass. Damn. Whomever they belonged to, either Rodie or Lizzie, they were way talented. Kiera sighed, entirely surrounded in warm, wet mouths, in stroking fingers, soft lips.

She wondered if either Lizzie or Rodie had ever been with a woman before, and decided that maybe she’d teach them what they needed to know, so she incorporated their innocence into her fantasy.

Lizzie was lying on her back, and Kiera slowly worked her way up the girl’s slim legs, licking and kissing her way to the dark thatch of curls at the sweet juncture of her thighs.

Rodie was there, too, her lips wet from sucking on Lizzie’s breast, her fingers just as wet from slipping inside Kiera’s pussy. This was good. This was how it should be, the three of them, all together, knowing exactly what it took to please a woman, using gentleness and love to find the perfect touch, the perfect pressure, the ...

A hand slowly swept over Kiera’s shoulder, cupped her breast, gently pinched her nipple. The palm was broad and rough, a bit callused, the fingers thick and strong. Definitely not Lizzie. Not Rodie, either, but it felt so good, that rolling, pinching, tugging pressure on first one nipple and then the other that she just let it slide.

When fantasy was working, it beat the real thing altogether.

She sighed and sprawled in the recliner, forgetting all about Rodie and Lizzie as a new set of warm, full lips coasted over her rib cage, paused for a quick lick of her belly button, and then went lower. She felt the warmth of a very mobile tongue slipping between her sensitive pussy lips, flicking her clit just the way she liked it, then slipping so deep inside she wouldn’t have thought it possible.

But this was, after all, a fantasy, right? A thick fingertip teased the sensitive ring around her anus. Damn. She was so sensitive there. At one time, she’d thought she would love sex that way, but her ex-husband had sure screwed that up.

Anal sex might sound great in theory, but when it was forced on a girl, when it was done to you against your will, it hurt like hell. She’d screamed when he’d taken her. She’d fought him and tried to get away, but he was so big and so much stronger, he’d held her down and done it anyway. When he was through, she’d been torn and bloody, and that’s when she’d gotten the fucking restraining order.

And that had marked the end of men for Kiera Pearce, but why the hell was she thinking of that jackass now? Crap. Slowly, she made a conscious effort to relax muscles gone all tense, to even out her breathing again. To calm down and go with the program.

Then she had to consciously crawl back into her fantasy with Rodie and Lizzie.

But where the hell had they gone? She couldn’t bring up their images at all for some reason. Invisible lovers? That might work, though hadn’t Mac said they needed to project explicit visual fantasies to give the Nyrians form? Didn’t that mean they had to actually imagine a particular face?