The Dragon and the Dreamwalker (Elemental Series) (25 page)

“I told you I’m done playing games, Brynn. Don’t kiss me unless you mean it.”

When she didn’t respond, he released her, but their eyes still stayed interlocked.

“Drake, where did that dragon come from? It wasn’t Dracus. It was a different one. Now we have two dragons to contend with?”

He looked to the pool, shaking his head. “I don’t know. But it’s gone now. I’m not at all sure it’s even real.”

“What is this place?” she asked. “Why did you come here in the first place?”

He looked away, obviously not wanting to answer. “I have a rabbit for our meal,” he said instead. He cleared his throat and busied himself with getting it from where he’d dropped it at the entranceway. He also picked up a saddlebag and brought it with him into the torchlight.

“Drake, I need to know. I don’t understand any of this.”

“I’ve got some branches at the mouth of the cave. I’ll make up a spit and we’ll roast this over the fire. ’Tis not much, but it’s all I could find for now. Until the rain lets up.”

She couldn’t believe he was ignoring the fact they’d just been attacked by a dragon that may not have even really existed. She wanted to tell him about seeing his father, and his warning to Drake, but she knew he’d just ignore that as well. She wasn’t going to get any answers out of him tonight. Why had she thought by following him she’d learn more about him? All she did was become more confused, as more questions came to the surface.

She would play his game if that’s what he wanted. But sooner or later, he was going to answer every question she had in her mind.

He removed his cloak and ringed out the water just outside the cave. Then he pulled a dry rag from the saddlebag at his feet, and wiped down his blade.

“I was lucky to get this saddlebag off of Gollimer before he broke his rein and ran off.”

“Gollimer’s gone?” There went her last hope of leaving this awful place this night.

“He’ll show up back at the castle eventually. Either that or he’ll be waiting for us outside the cave by morning. He’s like a homing pigeon. He won’t go far. He must have sensed the dragon.” Drake looked back toward the pool as he dried his blade. “I’ve never seen him so scared. Not even when we encountered Dracus.”

“We need to talk about what just happened.”

“We need to make a fire to dry our clothes and cook our meal first.”

“You don’t seem very surprised a dragon was here a minute ago and has since disappeared. You know something about this pool, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her. He just went on with his work.

“I have something else to tell you.” She figured she’d try to tell him about his father even though he most likely wouldn’t listen. The warning sounded urgent, and he needed to know.

“It can wait.” He pulled a blanket out of the saddle bag. “I only have one blanket. You use it. Give me your wet clothes and I’ll start them drying over the fire.”

Brynn figured if she used the blanket, Drake would be sitting next to her naked while his own clothes and cloak dried. She couldn’t have that. She grabbed for the dagger at his waist, but his hand trapped hers at his hip. He gave her a look that said he didn’t trust her. She gave him the same look saying she didn’t trust him either.

“Remove your hand from mine,” she commanded.

“So you can run my own dagger through my heart?”

“I would have used my father’s dagger, but unfortunately I left it back at the castle. Now remove your hand. If I was trying to kill you, I’d go for your sword. While you slept.”

“Such a reassuring thought.” He removed his hand slowly. His eyes met hers in challenge and she couldn’t help but grin. She pulled the dagger from his belt and held it up in the torchlight.

“Good. Nice and sharp. Just how I like it.” She grabbed the blanket he held and cut it in half. She then replaced his dagger and handed half the blanket to him.

“What are you doing?”

“We’ll share. I won’t have you sitting naked while your own clothes dry.”

“Too tempting? Or is your concern that’ll I’ll catch a chill?”

“I don’t feel it’s decent.”

“God’s eyes, woman! I’m your husband. Modesty is for virgins, not for married women.”

“What are you insinuating? That I’m not a virgin?”

“I wasn’t. But now that you mentioned it . . . ”

She didn’t give him a chance to continue.

“You are not acting at all like a husband.”

“Oh really? So tell me, how should I act? What should I, as your husband, be doing?” She knew by the look on his face what he thought was a husband’s duty, but that wasn’t what she had in mind at the moment, and she planned on telling him so.

“He’s supposed to provide food, shelter, warmth and safety for his wife.”

“Which I’ve done.”

She looked down to the dead rabbit bleeding on the floor. Her stomach convulsed at the sight. She never could get used to seeing blood, ever since her own parents were murdered.

“I guess you have.” She had nothing more to say. Without her realizing it, Drake had done his husbandly duties. Mayhap it was she who was not doing what was expected of a wife.

“I’ll start the fire,” Drake told her. “You’re shivering. Now go change out of your wet clothes.”

* * *

Dinner was awkward with Drake sitting so close, and naked beneath the blanket he used like a loincloth. Brynn’s half of the blanket was wrapped around her body, and now she knew she shouldn’t have divided the blanket evenly. A woman has more to cover. Drake’s wrap was folded in half, and hung from his waist to his knees. Hers barely covered her breasts, let alone her thighs. It rested just above her knees, and when she sat, it climbed even higher. Therefore, she had just stayed standing, leaning against a rock as she ate her share of rabbit. Drake had collected some rain water in a wooden cup he’d found in the saddlebag and they’d shared it.

“You can’t stand all night.” He squatted by the fire, legs spread. She could have seen up the blanket, but she looked the other way.

“Are you ready to talk yet?” She threw the bones of the rabbit into the fire, and wiped her hands in her blanket. The cave smelled from woodsmoke, grease and damp earth.

“About what?” He poked at the fire with a stick, mesmerized by the flame. Sparks shot up, giving her the strength she needed to continue.

She knew she had to get his attention somehow. He was never going to talk about what happened in the cave unless she pursued it. Her own body was weakened from her spells in the water and she needed to replenish her energy with fire. She walked up to the fire, and bent down opposite him. Her blanket rose on her legs as she did so. His eyes followed, as she knew they would. Then she reached into the fire and picked up a burning ember. The flames licked her fingers, and smoke billowed out around her hand, but she was not burned.

He jumped to his feet, and she followed, burning coal still in her grasp.

“I can touch fire. It doesn’t burn me.”

“I know that.” He still seemed uneasy of the fact, and kept his distance. Not many people had actually ever seen her submerge herself in fire, but those who had were always frightened at her ability. That’s why she normally waited until she was behind closed doors to use her gift. His eyes traveled from her face to the flame in her hand and then back again.

“It still disturbs you, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

“People called my mother a witch,” she explained, “as I’ve already told you. She figured if she told him her background again, it may make him more apt to tell her his. “Actually, she was both human and faerie, the blood of each running through her veins. I am similar, as my father was human, but my mother had magical blood within her veins. She could withstand fire too, and see things in the flames. It is nature of our kind. We are from the elemental realm. We are one with the element of fire.”

“Can you see things in the flames too?” he asked suspiciously, yet very curious.

She looked at the burning wood in her hand and tried once again to see the future, see the past, see anything. She couldn’t.

“Nay.” She threw the wood back into the fire and held out her hand for him to examine it for burns. “I have not the ability to scry. I haven’t enough faerie blood in my veins to do so. But I can withstand fire, and I get my energy from it. It restores me.” She took a deep breath and then released it, reveling in the energy the fire had shared with her.

“What else can you do, Witch?”

“Don’t call me that again, or you’ll find out. My name is Brynn. Witch is actually a derogative name for our kind. We don’t like it.”

“So that is why it bothers you so much. Tell me. What other powers do you hold? You told me before you had another power, yet never explained it.”

“The faerie blood running through my veins is scant since my mother and grandmother both married male humans. The gifts given to us diminish through generations because of this, as you see with my inability to scry. I hold the power over fire only. However, I do have the ability to . . . 
dreamwalk
,” she told him. “I can leave my body in a semi-dream stage and travel without it.”

“Like a ghost.” He folded his arms in front of him and leaned back on a rock.

“In a way. Although, I’m not dead. My spirit leaves my body and travels about freely, never seen by human eyes.”

“Is this a special trait of the faerie’s also?”

“Not really,” she explained. “Actually, anybody can do it. People leave their bodies every night, but are not able to remember it upon awakening. That’s where I’m different. I’m totally aware of my doings on the astral plane.”

“So you meet other
Dreamwalkers
then?”

“Aye. Sometimes, I do.”

He approached her, and she felt the cool rock of the wall against her back. He leaned forward, wet hair brushing against her arm and sending a spark through her entire body. He placed one hand at the side of her head and brought his face close to hers. She could feel his breath on her lips as he spoke.

“And have you met me there?” he asked in a half whisper. “Have I
dreamwalked
as well?”

She stayed silent, not wanting to give him the answer he needed.

“Mayhap I’ve met you in this state and just don’t remember,” he continued. “Perhaps we’ve done more while
dreamwalking
than we’ve done in waking life.”

He almost sounded as if he knew they’d made love on the etheric plane. But she couldn’t be sure. It was too incomprehensible to think he’d remember his own
dreamwalking
. Only magical people with special powers or those who were totally aware could remember what they’d done in this form. He couldn’t remember. She prayed he hadn’t.

“So, tell me wife. Have you seen me while
dreamwalking
or not?”

She found herself not wanting to answer. All her memories of making love with Drake on the
dreamwalking
plane flooded her at once. A heat coursed through her body and she felt her legs wobble beneath her. His mouth was too near hers. His arm had her trapped against the wall and she felt his presence filling her senses. She looked to the ground so she wouldn’t have to reply.

“Your face blushes like a ripe peach, dear wife. Do tell me why?”

She ducked below his arm and walked away from him. She needed to gain control of herself before she ended up kissing him again. She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip.

“Tell me about your mother,” Brynn said, trying to change the subject. When he didn’t say a word, she turned and caught his expression. His face was stone-like and his eyes traveled to a cave shelf behind the pool. Brynn’s attention followed his, and she first noticed the sealed goblet shining in the firelight. She strolled over to inspect it. A chalice of gold with carved etchings of flowers and vines sat among the alcove of the rocks. A rim of wax sealing the top to its base was unbroken.

“What is this?” Brynn reached out for it, but Drake’s hand stopped her. His grip on her wrist was strong in a protective sort of way. Not to protect her - but more like he was protecting something or someone else. Whatever was inside the chalice.

“’Tis none of your concern. Now come away.”

He tried to pull her away, but suddenly she knew what his actions meant. He’d looked to the chalice when she asked about his mother. He held a concern, a sadness, a certain respect in his gaze when he sought out the chalice. Something Drake admired deeply was sealed inside. Something - or someone’s ashes.

“’Tis your mother, isn’t it?”

He still held onto her wrist, but looked the other way. She could see his eyes glistening in the firelight, a bit wetter than they were from the rain. She realized he was biting the inside of his cheek, his neck tightening as he did so. He fought to hold back the emotions that were threatening to spill forth.

“I don’t care to talk about it,” he said in a mere whisper.

“How did she die, Drake?”

He looked directly at her, and she felt his own sadness deep down to her soul. He fought to speak, though his words were choking him. Finally he answered with vengeance to his voice.