The pictures of Aidan before him were not of the same Aidan he'd been fighting alongside for centuries. The Aidan captured by Lyssa in detailed pencil lines appeared younger and happier. His eyes were bright and the lines of strain less apparent.
Connor studied the images for long moments, then he heard movement on the couch. He pivoted to find Stacey curled on her side, her eyelids fluttering as she drifted back to sleep.
He smiled, once again noting how the chill created by his dreams faded just because she was near. It was amazing what the feeling of female comfort could do for a man. He could see how Aidan's relationship with Lyssa had changed his friend in wondrous ways.
Which only made Connor more determined to succeed in his mission.
He was here for a reason. His actions in this plane of existence would keep the people he cared about safe. It also kept the promise he'd made long ago—to protect the Dreamers from the mistakes of the Elders.
Refocused on his task, Connor returned his attention to the blank paper before him and tried to collect his thoughts.
Aidan didn't remember the conversations they'd had in his dreams. There was no reason for Connor to think that his own brain was any different, which meant the two "meetings" with Sheron were products of his imagination.
Still, despite knowing how dreams worked, he had a very hard time believing that the fantastical story Sheron had told him was a product of his mind. He didn't think up shit like that. He considered himself more brawn than brain.
Unless the Elders had a way the Guardians didn't know about… Or perhaps Wager had gleaned more information from the data chip?
Confused and a bit horrified by the many possibilities—not the least of which was the idea that what he'd dreamed might be the truth—Connor began to write.
It was the sound of a door opening and the distant rumbling of a garage opener motor that woke Stacey. Groggy and too comfortable for words, it took her a minute to comprehend where she was. Scrubbing at heavy-lidded eyes with her fists, she shifted a little and found herself wrapped in a heavy cocoon of large, sleepy male.
Her brain geared up slowly, piece-by-piece registering the heavy arm and leg that were slung across her, the soft lips and warm breath that caressed her shoulder, the morning hard-on that poked insistently into her buttocks. They were on the couch in the living room, spooned on their sides, Connor's chin above the top of her head, his big body half draped over hers. She normally needed a thick blanket to stay warm, but his body heat resembled a blast furnace at her back. Despite her silky spaghetti-strap pajama top and matching pants bottoms, she wasn't cold at all.
Blinking, Stacey looked through the dining room into the kitchen and discovered two faces bearing equally shocked expressions staring back at her. "Uh…"
Horrified at the thought of Connor smelling her morning breath, Stacey snapped her mouth shut and attempted to extricate herself from his embrace. He was dressed, too, of course, but that didn't make the situation any less embarrassing. There was no way they'd ever be able to pretend that nothing had happened between them.
Connor's response to her wiggling was a grumbled protest and a large hand cupping her breast. Her nipple, shamelessly happy with the attention, puckered wantonly into his palm, which set off a now predictable reaction in his cock.
"Umm…" he purred, snuggling closer and rocking his hips against hers suggestively.
Aidan and Lyssa's mouths fell open.
Stacey winced and smacked at Connor's hand. "Stop that!" she hissed. "They're home."
She could tell moment the information sunk in. He stiffened against her, then muttered a barely audible curse. Lifting his head, he looked over her shoulder and said, "Cross."
"Bruce," Aidan returned tightly.
Wincing, Stacey rolled out of Connor's now lax embrace and landed unceremoniously on her hands and knees on the floor between the
Connor studied the images for long moments, then he heard movement on the couch. He pivoted to find Stacey curled on her side, her eyelids fluttering as she drifted back to sleep.
He smiled, once again noting how the chill created by his dreams faded just because she was near. It was amazing what the feeling of female comfort could do for a man. He could see how Aidan's relationship with Lyssa had changed his friend in wondrous ways.
Which only made Connor more determined to succeed in his mission.
He was here for a reason. His actions in this plane of existence would keep the people he cared about safe. It also kept the promise he'd made long ago—to protect the Dreamers from the mistakes of the Elders.
Refocused on his task, Connor returned his attention to the blank paper before him and tried to collect his thoughts.
Aidan didn't remember the conversations they'd had in his dreams. There was no reason for Connor to think that his own brain was any different, which meant the two "meetings" with Sheron were products of his imagination.
Still, despite knowing how dreams worked, he had a very hard time believing that the fantastical story Sheron had told him was a product of his mind. He didn't think up shit like that. He considered himself more brawn than brain.
Unless the Elders had a way the Guardians didn't know about… Or perhaps Wager had gleaned more information from the data chip?
Confused and a bit horrified by the many possibilities—not the least of which was the idea that what he'd dreamed might be the truth—Connor began to write.
It was the sound of a door opening and the distant rumbling of a garage opener motor that woke Stacey. Groggy and too comfortable for words, it took her a minute to comprehend where she was. Scrubbing at heavy-lidded eyes with her fists, she shifted a little and found herself wrapped in a heavy cocoon of large, sleepy male.
Her brain geared up slowly, piece-by-piece registering the heavy arm and leg that were slung across her, the soft lips and warm breath that caressed her shoulder, the morning hard-on that poked insistently into her buttocks. They were on the couch in the living room, spooned on their sides, Connor's chin above the top of her head, his big body half draped over hers. She normally needed a thick blanket to stay warm, but his body heat resembled a blast furnace at her back. Despite her silky spaghetti-strap pajama top and matching pants bottoms, she wasn't cold at all.
Blinking, Stacey looked through the dining room into the kitchen and discovered two faces bearing equally shocked expressions staring back at her. "Uh…"
Horrified at the thought of Connor smelling her morning breath, Stacey snapped her mouth shut and attempted to extricate herself from his embrace. He was dressed, too, of course, but that didn't make the situation any less embarrassing. There was no way they'd ever be able to pretend that nothing had happened between them.
Connor's response to her wiggling was a grumbled protest and a large hand cupping her breast. Her nipple, shamelessly happy with the attention, puckered wantonly into his palm, which set off a now predictable reaction in his cock.
"Umm…" he purred, snuggling closer and rocking his hips against hers suggestively.
Aidan and Lyssa's mouths fell open.
Stacey winced and smacked at Connor's hand. "Stop that!" she hissed. "They're home."
She could tell moment the information sunk in. He stiffened against her, then muttered a barely audible curse. Lifting his head, he looked over her shoulder and said, "Cross."
"Bruce," Aidan returned tightly.
Wincing, Stacey rolled out of Connor's now lax embrace and landed unceremoniously on her hands and knees on the floor between the
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