okay."
Surprisingly, it was.
Stepping back slightly, Connor bent and caught her up behind the knees and lifted her into his arms. He carried her out of the dining room and back into the living room, where he sank into the down-filled couch with her in his lap. She fit perfectly there, her lush body settling warmly against his bare skin. He tucked her head under his chin and rocked her.
Taking and giving. The connection he'd sought and needed so desperately earlier, reestablished without sex and yet strengthened by their earlier frantic mating. Having gotten the animal lust out of the way, they'd exposed the other feelings, laying them out in the open between them. Understood and shared.
"Thank you," she whispered wearily, curling tighter against him.
Soon, her shallow, rhythmic breathing told him she was connected to the Twilight. She was at his home, where he longed to be. Dreaming.
He hoped it was of him.
----
Chapter 7
Connor traversed the length of the rock-lined hallway to the main cavern with an impatient stride. As he drew closer to the grotto, the air grew more humid due to the large body of water that waited just beyond the craggy edge. There was a mildewy, mossy smell that permeated the air and made him long for his life of just weeks ago. A life above ground with women, beer, and a damn good fight when he needed one.
And a door for an entrance and exit. That would be nice.
He wasn't looking forward to the necessary dip in the icy water of the lake. It was near torture to make the ascent to the surface when one's lungs were seized by the frigid temperature. Unlike everything else in the Twilight, the water in the lake could not be altered by mere thought. No amount of wishing, ordering, or hoping made the liquid any more bearable.
So he simply saluted his men, checked to make certain that his glaive was secured in the scabbard crossing his back, and dove in.
Long moments later, Connor emerged freezing and gasping, crawling up the sandy bank while wracked by violent shivers. He
was struck by a feeling of déjà vu so disconcerting that he didn't realize he wasn't alone until he was tackled and knocked backward.
As a smaller, wirier body wrapped around his, his roar of outrage reflected off the surface of the water and released his mounting tension. Connor twisted and grappled with his assailant until the moment they both fell back into the lake in an explosion of water and slapping skin. He grabbed his assailant by the scruff of his robes and dragged him onto the shore.
"Wait!" Sheron cried.
Connor reached over his shoulder and pulled his glaive free of its scabbard. "We've been through this before, old man," he growled.
"We did not conclude our discussion."
"So start talking before I lose what's left of my patience."
The Elder pushed back his soaked cowl. "Remember what I told you about the slipstreams we established in the Temple?"
"Yeah."
"And how the only location in the Twilight that is secure from Nightmares is the cavern you have commandeered?"
"Yes."
"Nightmares infiltrated those streams, Bruce, melding with the Guardian in transit to form one being."
"Fuck me." Connor's grip on his glaive tightened and sweat dotted his brow. "Can they travel by themselves? Are the humans in trouble now? Have we finally screwed them all the way by infecting their world as well as their dreams?"
"Not so far as we know. Unlike the slipstreams in the cavern, these are opened only briefly, just long enough to make the jump. Then they are closed again."
"How did you figure out what was happening?"
"
We began by sending a guard through in a rapid cycle
—
in and out
."
Connor began to pace.
"It became apparent over time that some of the guards were not well,"
Sheron continued. "At first we assumed it was due to the location."
"Being outside the cavern."
"Yes. Then they began to change. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Eliciting fear and sadness in those around them seemed to be very important
Surprisingly, it was.
Stepping back slightly, Connor bent and caught her up behind the knees and lifted her into his arms. He carried her out of the dining room and back into the living room, where he sank into the down-filled couch with her in his lap. She fit perfectly there, her lush body settling warmly against his bare skin. He tucked her head under his chin and rocked her.
Taking and giving. The connection he'd sought and needed so desperately earlier, reestablished without sex and yet strengthened by their earlier frantic mating. Having gotten the animal lust out of the way, they'd exposed the other feelings, laying them out in the open between them. Understood and shared.
"Thank you," she whispered wearily, curling tighter against him.
Soon, her shallow, rhythmic breathing told him she was connected to the Twilight. She was at his home, where he longed to be. Dreaming.
He hoped it was of him.
----
Chapter 7
Connor traversed the length of the rock-lined hallway to the main cavern with an impatient stride. As he drew closer to the grotto, the air grew more humid due to the large body of water that waited just beyond the craggy edge. There was a mildewy, mossy smell that permeated the air and made him long for his life of just weeks ago. A life above ground with women, beer, and a damn good fight when he needed one.
And a door for an entrance and exit. That would be nice.
He wasn't looking forward to the necessary dip in the icy water of the lake. It was near torture to make the ascent to the surface when one's lungs were seized by the frigid temperature. Unlike everything else in the Twilight, the water in the lake could not be altered by mere thought. No amount of wishing, ordering, or hoping made the liquid any more bearable.
So he simply saluted his men, checked to make certain that his glaive was secured in the scabbard crossing his back, and dove in.
Long moments later, Connor emerged freezing and gasping, crawling up the sandy bank while wracked by violent shivers. He
was struck by a feeling of déjà vu so disconcerting that he didn't realize he wasn't alone until he was tackled and knocked backward.
As a smaller, wirier body wrapped around his, his roar of outrage reflected off the surface of the water and released his mounting tension. Connor twisted and grappled with his assailant until the moment they both fell back into the lake in an explosion of water and slapping skin. He grabbed his assailant by the scruff of his robes and dragged him onto the shore.
"Wait!" Sheron cried.
Connor reached over his shoulder and pulled his glaive free of its scabbard. "We've been through this before, old man," he growled.
"We did not conclude our discussion."
"So start talking before I lose what's left of my patience."
The Elder pushed back his soaked cowl. "Remember what I told you about the slipstreams we established in the Temple?"
"Yeah."
"And how the only location in the Twilight that is secure from Nightmares is the cavern you have commandeered?"
"Yes."
"Nightmares infiltrated those streams, Bruce, melding with the Guardian in transit to form one being."
"Fuck me." Connor's grip on his glaive tightened and sweat dotted his brow. "Can they travel by themselves? Are the humans in trouble now? Have we finally screwed them all the way by infecting their world as well as their dreams?"
"Not so far as we know. Unlike the slipstreams in the cavern, these are opened only briefly, just long enough to make the jump. Then they are closed again."
"How did you figure out what was happening?"
"
We began by sending a guard through in a rapid cycle
—
in and out
."
Connor began to pace.
"It became apparent over time that some of the guards were not well,"
Sheron continued. "At first we assumed it was due to the location."
"Being outside the cavern."
"Yes. Then they began to change. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Eliciting fear and sadness in those around them seemed to be very important
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