CHAPTER 1

Lyssa Bates glanced at the cat-shaped clock on the wall with its ticking tail and second-hand whiskers. It was finally nearing five o'clock. Almost time to start the weekend, and she couldn't wait.

Exhausted, she ran her hands through her long hair and yawned. It seemed she never got recharged enough, no matter how long she rested. Her days off passed in a blur of kicked-off sheets and buckets of coffee. Her social

life had slowed to a drip as her time spent in bed grew longer and longer. None of the prescription insomnia medicines did any good. It wasn't that she couldn't sleep. In fact, she couldn't seem to stop sleeping.

She just wasn't getting any rest.

Standing, she held her arms above her head and stretched. Every sinew in her body protested.

Flames from scented candles nickered on the tops of her metal filing cabinets, covering the medicinal odors of her clinic with the smell of sugar cookies. But the yummy scent failed to entice her hunger as it was meant to do. She was losing weight and growing weaker. Her doctor was prepared to send her to a sleep clinic to monitor her REM patterns, and she was about to agree. He said her lifelong lack of dream recollection was a mental manifestation of a physical malady, one he just hadn't pinpointed yet. Lyssa was just grateful that he didn't prescribe a strait jacket.

"That was your last patient, so you can go home if you want."

Turning, Lyssa managed a smile for Stacey, her receptionist, who stood in the office doorway.

"You look like shit, Doc. Are you coming down with something?"

"Hell if I know," Lyssa muttered. "I've been feeling under the weather for at least a month now."

She had actually been "sickly" most of her life, which was one of the

reasons she had turned to medicine for a career. Now she spent as much time as her energy level would allow in her cheery clinic with its creamy marble floors and soft Victorian decor. Behind Stacey, the narrow

wainscoted hallway led to the waiting area decorated with cooing lovebirds in antique cages. It was cozy and warm, a place where Lyssa enjoyed spending time. When she wasn't so damn tired.

Stacey leaned against the doorjamb and wrinkled her nose. Dressed in

scrubs with cartoon animals on them, she looked cute and bubbly, which suited her personality. "God, I hate being sick. I hope you feel better soon. Your first patient on Monday is a Lab who just needs boosters.

I'll reschedule them, if you want. Give you an extra hour to decide if you feel up to coming in or not."

"I love you," Lyssa said with a grateful smile.

"Nah, you just need someone to take care of you. Like a boyfriend. Man, the way the single guys look at you when they come in here…" Stacey whistled. "Half the time I think they bought dogs just to come see you."

"Didn't you just say I looked like shit?"

"Girl talk. "You'd look better on your deathbed than most women on their best day. These guys don't remember their pets' checkups because of the reminder postcards. Trust me."

Lyssa rolled her eyes. "I just gave you a raise. What do you want now?" "For you to go home. I'll close up with Mike."

"I won't argue with that." She was dead on her feet, and although the clinic was still filled with the soothing cacophony of barking dogs, Mike's whirring grooming tools, and talking birds, everything was gradually winding down for the evening. "Let me put these charts away and I'll—

"

"No way. If I let you start doing my job, what'll you need me for?" Stacey strode over, scooped up the files from the mahogany desktop, and moved out to the hallway. "See ya Monday, Doc."

Shaking her head with a smile, Lyssa retrieved her purse and fished out her keys before she exited the back of her clinic to the staff parking area. Her black BMW Roadster waited in the nearly empty lot. It was a beautiful day, both sunny and warm, and she lowered the top before heading home.

During the twenty-minute drive, she guzzled the cold leftover coffee in her cup holder and blared the radio, trying to stay awake long enough to keep from killing herself or someone else on the highway.

Her sleek car wove easily through the slight traffic in her small Southern California town. An impulse buy when she had finally acknowledged she was destined to die young, the Roadster was a purchase she'd never regretted.

Over the last four years she had made a lot of similarly drastic changes, like moving to the Temecula Valley and leaving a hugely successful veterinary practice in San Diego behind. She'd thought her chronic fatigue was due to her stressful work schedule and outrageous cost-of-living, and for the first

few years after the move, she had felt much better. Lately, however, her health seemed worse than ever.

A battery of tests had ruled out a variety of ailments, such as lupus and multiple sclerosis.

Incorrect diagnoses like nbromyalgia and sleep apnea had her taking useless medications and wearing painful masks that prevented any shuteye whatsoever. The latest diagnosis of narcolepsy was depressing, suggesting no cure for the weariness that was ruining her life. Her ability to work the long hours she enjoyed had been diminished years ago, and she was slowly losing her mind.

The wrought-iron gate to her condo community swung open and she pulled inside, passing the communal pool area she had yet to use before hitting the remote to her garage door around the corner.

She pulled to an abrupt stop inside with pinpoint precision, hit the remote again, and was inside her granite-countered kitchen before the garage door had lowered all the way. Tossing her purse on the breakfast bar, Lyssa stripped out of her ivory silk shirt and blue slacks, then sank into her down- stuffed couch.

She was asleep before her head hit the cushion.

* * *

Aidan stared at the portal barring him from his latest assignment and scowled. The psyche inside was seriously fucked up to build a barrier like this. Metallic and broad, it stood alone in a sea of black. Rising upward so far he couldn't see where the damn thing ended, it was the strongest deterrent he had ever come across. No wonder the other half-dozen

Guardians had met with failure.

He cursed and ran his hands through his hair, which was now graying slightly at the temples.

Guardians didn't age. They were immortal, unless a Nightmare sucked the life out of them. But some of the whacked-out shit he'd seen over the years had scarred him visibly. Weary and disheartened, he gripped the hilt of his sword and banged hard on the door. It was going to be a long night.

"Who is it?" came a lilting voice from inside. He paused mid-swing, his interest piqued.

"Hello?" she called out.

With his brain slowed by the unexpectedness of the conversation, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Who do you want it to be?"

"Oh, go away," she grumbled. "I'm sick of you wackos." Aidan blinked at the door. "Excuse me?"

"No wonder I never get any sleep with you guys banging on the door with your riddles. If you won't tell me your name, you can go away."

"What name do you prefer?" "Your real one, smart ass."

His brow arched as he suddenly felt as if he were the one who was mentally disturbed and not the other way around.

"Bye, whoever you are. Nice talking to you." Her voice grew distant, and he knew he was losing her.

"Aidan," he yelled.

"Oh." There was a pregnant pause. "I like that name."

"Good. I guess." He frowned, not sure what to do next. "Can I come in?"

The door swung open with torturous leisure, the hinges screeching and soft puffs of rust exploding from the cracks. He stared for a moment, startled at how easy it was to gain entry when he had been warned the task would be next to impossible. Then he was struck by the interior. Inside was just as pitch black as the outside. He'd never seen anything like it.

Stepping carefully into her "dream," he asked, "Why don't you turn the lights on?"

"You know," she said dryly, "I've been trying to do that for years."

Her voice floated across the darkness like a warm spring breeze. He searched through her memories and found nothing unusual. Lyssa Bates was an ordinary woman who lived an ordinary life. There was nothing in her past or present that could explain this emptiness.

The door behind him stood open. He could withdraw. Send for a Nurturer. Be grateful for the easiest assignment he'd had in a long, long time. Instead, he stayed, intrigued by the first flash of genuine interest in a Dreamer he had felt in many centuries.

"Well…" He scrubbed a hand along his jaw. "Try thinking of someplace you'd like to go and take us there."

"Close the door, please." He heard her padding away.

Aidan considered the wisdom of shutting himself inside here with her. "Can't we leave it open?"

"No. They'll come in if you don't shut it." "Who'll come in?"

"The Shadows."

Aidan stood silently, absorbing the fact that she recognized the Nightmares as separate entities.

"I can kill them for you," he offered. "I abhor violence, if you must know."

"Yeah, I knew that. That's one of the reasons you became a vet."

She snorted. "Now I remember why I kicked you guys out. You pry too much."

Turning to shut the door, Aidan said, "You let me in quickly enough." "I like your voice. Is that a brogue? Where are you from?"

"Where do you want me to be from?"

"Whatever." The footsteps padded farther away. "Show yourself out. I'm not talking to you anymore."

Aidan laughed softly and admired her spirit. She wasn't cowed, despite how miserable it must be to be alone in the dark, "You know what your problem is, Lyssa Bates?"

"You and your friends bugging me?"

"You don't know how to dream. All the endless possibilities of your mind— all the places you can go, the things you can do, the people you can be with

—and you're not indulging in any of it."

"You think I like sitting here in the dark? I would love to be on a Caribbean beach right now, rolling around in the sand with a hot guy."

The door shut with a tremendous booming sound, and he heaved out a breath. He had no idea what to do now. Nurturing, healing, all that mushy stuff… he wasn't good at any of it.

"What would Hot Guy look like?" he asked. Sex he could do. And honestly, for the first time in a long time, he was actually looking forward to it. There was something about the irreverent way she spoke…

"Oh, I don't know," she said, her voice settling into one area. "Tall, dark, and handsome. Isn't that what all women want?"

"Not always." He moved toward her, sifting through her memories for past examples of what she considered hot.

"You sound like you know."

He shrugged, then remembered she couldn't see him. "I've had some experience. Keep talking so I can find you."

"Why can't we talk like this?"

"Because"—he altered his course to the left—"I would rather not raise my voice."

"It's a very luscious voice." His brows rose. "Thank you."

Luscious was not a word he'd heard in regard to his voice before. The compliment made his cock twitch, and the damn thing was so jaded, it

hardly ever did that without physical manipulation. It certainly had never

done that without visual stimuli. "I like your voice, too. I picture you being very pretty."

Rifling through her mind, he saw that she was indeed attractive, but tired, with red-rimmed dark eyes and a slender frame.

"Well, we'll be sure to keep the lights out then." She sounded sad. Normally he would be backing away quickly from such emotion. Lust and anger were all he could afford to experience. He couldn't care too deeply about

anyone's fate. Not even his own.

"There are those of us who can help you," he said softly.

"Which one? The one who came last night and imitated the voice of my cheating ex-boyfriend?"

Aidan winced. "Bad choice, but with the door in the way, I've got to hand it to him for even picking up on that much."

She laughed, and the throaty sound was very different from what he had expected to hear. It was vibrant, full of life, a taste of the woman she'd been before whatever had happened to fuck her up.

"The other night they sounded like my mother."

He lowered to a crouch beside her. "To comfort you. That was smart, considering how close you are to her."

"I don't want comfort, Aidan," she said, yawning.

A heady floral fragrance filled his nostrils, and wanting more of it, he sat down with his legs crossed. "What do you want, Lyssa?"

"Sleep." Her sweet voice was so wearied. "God, I just want to go to sleep and rest. My mother talks too much to let that happen. And your people keep pounding on the damn door. The main reason I let you in was to shut you guys up."

"Come here," he murmured, reaching into the darkness and finding her warm, soft body.

As she curled against his chest, he created a wall behind him and settled, stretching his long legs out in front of them and holding her close.

"This is nice," she breathed, her breath hot as it gusted through the opening of his tunic and grazed his chest. Her weight was slight, but she was full- breasted, a discovery that both pleased and surprised him. "It was your voice, too."

"Hmm?"

"Why I let you in."

"Ah." He stroked the length of her spine, soothing her, whispering assurances that made no sense to him but sounded good.

"You're almost hard enough to be uncomfortable," she grumbled, wrapping her arms around his waist. "What the hell do you do for a living?"

He buried his nose in her hair and breathed her in. The scent was fresh and sweet. Innocent.

While this woman had spent her life healing small creatures, he'd spent an eternity fighting and killing, "I keep the bad guys away."

"Sounds rough."

He said nothing. The urge to find solace with her was nearly overwhelming, but unlike how he felt with other women, he didn't wish to lose himself in her body. He just wanted to hold her, and take comfort in her caring. Her livelihood was healing, and he wanted, for just a fleeting instant, to be healed.

He squashed the desire ruthlessly. "I'm so sleepy, Aidan."

"Rest, then," he murmured. "I'll make sure you're not disturbed." " Axe you an angel?"

His mouth curved, and he hugged her closer. "No, darling. I'm not." Her reply was a gentle snore.

* * *

It was not-so-gentle kneading on her leg that woke her. Lyssa stretched, startled to find herself on the couch, then even more startled to realize she felt wonderful. The late afternoon sun lit her living room through the sliding glass door, and Jelly Bean, her tabby cat, was grumbling as he always did when she slept too long and didn't pay enough attention to him.

Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and laughed as her stomach growled in protest. She was famished, truly hungry for the first time in weeks.

"I guess I should have tried sleeping on the couch earlier," she told JB, scratching him behind the ears before rising to her feet. The ringing of the phone made her jump. She hurried to the breakfast bar to get it.

"Dr. Bates," she greeted breathlessly.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," her mother replied, laughing. "You sleeping all day again?"

"I guess." Lyssa looked at the clock. It was nearly one. "It must have worked this time, though. I feel better than I have in months."

"Good enough to go out to lunch?"

Her stomach rumbled its approval at the thought. "Definitely. How long before you get here?"

"I'm just around the corner."

"Cool." Reaching over, she sprinkled fish food in her salt-water tank. Eager clown fish rose to the surface, making her smile. "Let yourself in. I'm going to clean up."

Tossing the cordless handset on the couch before running up the stairs, Lyssa showered and dressed quickly in a comfortable chocolate velour jogging suit. She ran a comb through her wet hair and then clipped it up, noting that she still looked tired, even though she felt great.

Her mother, however, looked nothing less than fabulous dressed in red silk cigarette pants and matching shrunken jacket. With her chin-length blond hair and rouged lips, Cathryn Bates hadn't let two divorces dampen her

desire to look hot and attract men.

While her mother rambled on about one thing or the other, Lyssa rushed her out the kitchen door and into her Roadster. "Let's go, Mom. Talk in the car, I'm starved."

"You've said that before," Cathy muttered, "and then ate like a bird."

Lyssa ignored that quip and looked over her shoulder as she backed out of her garage. "Where to?"

"Soup Plantation?" Her mom raked her with an assessing glance. "Nah, you need some meat on your bones. Vincent's?"

"Pasta. Yum." Licking her lips, she turned the wheel and sped out of her condo complex. With the top down and a good night's rest, she felt ready to take on the world. It was nice to have energy and be happy. She had almost forgotten how wonderful it was.

Vincent's Italian restaurant was busy, as usual, but they didn't have any trouble securing a seat.

Red and white gingham tablecloths and wooden chairs lent to the casual country interior. Soft candles burned on every tabletop, and Lyssa immediately broke into the fresh-baked rosemary bread with gusto.

"Well, look at you!" her mom said approvingly, gesturing for wine by holding her stemmed glass aloft. "I wonder if your sister is eating hardy, too. Her obstetrician says the baby is another boy.

She's been trying to think of names."

"Yeah, she told me." Dipping another chunk of bread in olive oil, Lyssa shrugged and reached for the menu. An upbeat Italian tune struggled to be heard over the lunch crowd din, but the busy atmosphere was just what she needed to feel like part of civilization again. "I told her the best I could do was some pet names. She wasn't impressed."

"I suggested she pull out that baby book I bought her. Start with the A's and work her way down.

Adam, Alden—"

"Aidan!" Lyssa cried mid-bite. Something tender warmed her insides and made her sigh. "I don't know why, but I really love that name."

It was a beautiful Twilight night. The sky above was an ebon blanket of stars, and in the distance, the roaring of the various waterfalls competed with laughter and hushed musical tones.

Guardians who had worked the long night before were relaxing away the stresses of their day.

For Aidan, however, his work was just beginning.

He passed beneath the massive archway at the Temple of the Elders and paused at the chozuya.

Dipping the waiting ladle into the fountain, he rinsed out his mouth and washed his hands before continuing on.

Grumbling under his breath, he then traversed the center courtyard and entered the haiden where the Elders awaited him. They sat before him in semicircular rows that faced the columned entryway he had just come

through. Rising several stories above him, there were so many benches that the Guardians had lost count of how many Elders occupied them long ago.

"Captain Cross," greeted one of them. Which one, Aidan couldn't say. As always, he thought of Master Sheron, knowing the teacher was one among the many, absorbed into what Aidan saw as a collective consciousness. The knowledge saddened him.

He bowed respectfully. "Elders."

"Tell us more about your Dreamer, Lyssa Bates."

It was a struggle, but he kept his face impassive as he straightened. Just the sound of her name spoken aloud sent a shiver of pleasure through him.

Despite the darkness of her dream, he had enjoyed his time with her. He'd felt secure behind the massive door, comforted by her trust, inwardly surprised and contented that she would turn to him for himself, not as a phantasm she had created for her own relief. And she'd commiserated with him, seen him as a man, not an automaton who craved nothing so much as a hearty fight and a willing fuck.

"I've told you everything I know."

"There must be more. Seven sleep cycles have passed since you gained entry, and she has denied all subsequent Guardians."

He shrugged. "Leave her alone. She's safe and sane. When she's ready, she'll let us in. She has no immediate need for us."

"Perhaps we have need of her."

His posture rigid, Aidan raked his gaze across the sea of faces, his heart increasing its rhythm.

They stared back, clad in dark gray, cowls raised and shielding the upper halves of their faces so that they all looked the same. One entity. "Why?"

"She asked for you."

His breath caught. She remembered him. Warmth spread through him, and he hid his pleasure with a dismissive "So?"

"How is it that she recalls you by your true name?" "I told it to her when she asked."

"Why does she see through every guise we present to her?" "She's a doctor. She's smart."

"Is she the Key?"

Aidan scowled. "No. If you knew her, you would know how ridiculous that is to even consider.

She would never open the Gateway to the Nightmares. She fears them as we do. Besides, she has the least amount of dream control I've ever seen. Turning the lights on is beyond her, so she's sitting in the damn dark."

"We must send more Guardians to interact with her so that we may prove you correct, but she will not let us in. If we cannot gain entry, we will have to assume the worst and destroy her."

Beginning to pace, Aidan clasped his hands at the small of his back and tried to find a way to argue reason against their unfounded paranoia. "What can I do to convince you?"

"Go to her again and urge her to open the door to us."

As much as he longed to go, he dreaded it. Already this last week he'd been unable to stop thinking about her. Was she well?

She was thinking about him…

A soft shiver coursed the length of his frame. He'd been in her mind, seen who she was on every level. He knew her as well as she knew herself, and he'd liked what he saw and craved more time in her company.

The conflicting desires to be with her and to avoid her goaded him with equal strength. Like a banquet of desserts set before a hungry man— although he knew an attachment to Lyssa would satisfy, it wasn't good for him and he would only end up hungrier. The turmoil he was experiencing proved that.

"If you will not go, Cross, you will leave us with no choice."

The threat hung heavy in the air. The request to revisit a Dreamer was not unheard of, but it was very rare and it had never been asked of an Elite Warrior before. He steeled his resolve. He could manage to hold himself aloof, just as he'd done forever. "Of course I'll go-"

"You will be assigned to her until she opens to other Guardians."

He couldn't hide his surprise. "But I'm needed elsewhere."

"Yes, your leadership will be missed," the voice conceded. "However, this woman is unique in her ability to bar both Nightmare and Guardian with that door. We must know why she does this, and how. Perhaps it is a skill we can replicate in other Dreamers. Imagine the benefits if they could defend themselves."

"That's not all." He stilled mid-stride and faced them. "If goodwill was your aim, you would assign a Healer or Nurturer to coax her out."

Instead they sent a man known for his aloofness and ability to kill with precision.

There was silence. Then, "If she is the Key, you are best equipped to eliminate her."

His blood ran cold. To think that stupid legend would lead to the death of a woman as sweet and pure as Lyssa Bates made his stomach roil. Every day that passed, Aidan hated his calling more and more. The killing of those who were ruined by madness or inherent evil like the Nightmares was

becoming hard enough. If they were now to kill innocents, he didn't know how he would bear it.

"You stayed with her, Cross. You could have withdrawn, allowed another to comfort her. Yon have only yourself to blame for this mission."

He held his open palms out to them. "What's happened to us that we, the Guardians of the innocents, would now kill simply because we don't

understand?"

"The Key must be found and destroyed," the Elders intoned in unison.

"Forget the damn Key!" he yelled, his voice booming through the domed space, causing the Elders to recoil as one body. "You, who are so wise, can't see the truth even though it's staring you in the face. There is no Key! It's a dream. A myth. A delusion."

He pointed an accusing finger at them. "You want to live on false hope instead of facing the facts. You want to believe that there is some

miraculous thing out there that will absolve you of the guilt you feel in bringing the Nightmares here. But we have nothing more than our will to fight, and we are wasting energy searching for what doesn't exist. The war will never be over!

Ever. We can only con-tinue to save whom we can. What'll we become if good is killed along with evil for a lie?

"Unless," his voice lowered ominously, "there's something you're not telling us. Some proof."

The silence that followed his outburst was deafening, but he didn't take it back. He had only spoken the obvious.

Finally, someone spoke. "You did not tell us of your crisis of faith, Captain Cross," came the far too calm rejoinder. "But all things come in good time, and this mission is even more suitable for you now that we are aware of your feelings."

Locking himself away sounded better and better to him, too. "Fine. I'll go to her now. And I'll continue to go to her until you tell me otherwise."

He hoped they would come to their collective senses and realize how

fanatic their beliefs had become. In the meantime, he would defend Lyssa from both herself and the Order that was sworn to protect her.

Aidan spun on his heel and left in an angry swirl of black robes. He didn't see the Elders' collective smile.

And no one saw the one Elder who didn't smile at all. "What happened to you? You looked so good last weekend."

Lyssa rolled over and pressed her face into the back cushions of her couch. "That one night of rest was a fluke."

Her mother sat on the floor and stroked her hair. "Your whole life you've had trouble sleeping.

First it was growing pains, then nightmares, then fevers."

Shivering in memory of ice water baths, Lyssa tucked her sage green

chenille throw closer around her. Jelly Bean hissed at her mom from his customary spot on the armrest.

"That animal is possessed," her mother muttered. "He doesn't like anyone." "I'm not getting rid of him. He's the only guy who puts up with me being

like this."

Cathy sighed. "I wish I knew what to do, baby."

"Yeah, me, too. I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired." "You need to have more tests run."

"God, no." Lyssa moaned. "I'm done with being a human pincushion, Mom. No more."

"You can't keep living like this!"

"This is living?" Lyssa muttered. "If it is, I would rather be dead." "Lyssa Ann Bates, if you ever say such a thing again, I'll… I'll…"

Growling, her mother stood, apparently unable to think of a threat direr than death. "I'm going to the store to get the ingredients for homemade chicken

noodle soup. And you're going to eat all of it, young lady. Every drop."

Lyssa groaned, and squeezed her eyes shut. "Mom, just go away. Let me sleep."

"I'll be back. I'm not giving up, and you're not either."

She distantly heard her mom gather up keys, then close the front door, leaving her in blissful silence. She sighed wearily and drifted into sleep…

And was jarred awake by pounding on the door.

"What do you want?" she cried in exasperation, rolling over in the pitch black darkness. "Go away!"

"Lyssa?"

She paused, the soft brogue sweeping gently through the vast space despite the door between them. Her heart leaped. "Aidan?"

"Can I come in?"

Sitting up, she wrinkled her nose and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. "Where have you been?"

"Working." There was a long silence, and then softly: "I've been worried about you."

"Charmer," she huffed, hiding the pleasure his words gave her. Using her mind, she opened the door with a sigh and wished for the thousandth time that she could see the man who went with that voice. She listened to him step inside, relishing the confident, steady stride that revealed so much about him and made her feel so safe.

"You can close the door now," he said, so she did.

His steps slowed, and she could sense him searching for her. "It's still dark in here."

"You noticed that, did ya?"

As the footsteps drew closer, a warm, deep chuckle filled the air. "We'll work on it."

"I hope you've got a while," she said dryly. "I've been working on it for years."

"I've got all the time you need."

She tried to ignore the little thrill that coursed through her, and ended up laughing at herself. She had a crush on a voice.

And a hard body. And strong arms. And patient tenderness. God, she was lonely. She missed having a social life and a boyfriend.

"Are you going to talk to me so I can find you?"

Her throat was tight with regret and bitterness, so she swallowed hard

before speaking. "I'm losing it, Aidan. I'm getting sappy: The lamest shit makes me cry."

He moved closer, his stride never faltering or hesitating despite his inability to see. "I admire people who allow themselves to feel."

"What does that mean?" "Exactly what I said."

"You can't admire a woman who sits in the dark," she argued, "because she's too stupid to turn the lights on."

Aidan crouched down beside her. "I can. And I do."

"How do you find me like that?" She shivered at his nearness and the intimate tone of his voice.

Even without sight, she knew his gaze was hot with sensual intent. "Your scent."

A moment later his face was in her hair as he breathed deeply. Lyssa froze as goose bumps spread in a wave across her skin. A tiny flutter tickled her belly.

He settled back with her tucked up against him. "You open and close the door by yourself."

Lyssa considered that with a frown.

"So you can control your surroundings if you wish to," he pointed out with an odd note in his

.voice.

She frowned. Wow, I did do that, without hardly thinking about it. "Why can't I wish up a cold beer, then? Or a vacation?"

"And a hot guy?" There was a delicious rumble of laughter in his voice.

I've got the hot guy. She bit her lower lip at the thought. Aidan's voice dripped sensual promise; his hard body and long, powerful legs boasted his stamina. She reached up and touched his hair, finding it short-cropped, thick, and silky. With the darkness robbing her ability to see, lustful images flooded her mind, thoughts of her fingers in that rich hair while his mouth worked magic between her legs.

He hissed through his teeth, and she realized how her altered position pressed her breasts to his chest. Her nipples were hard in response to her thoughts, and she knew he could feel them.

Pulling away quickly, Lyssa scrambled to put distance between them. "Sorry," she muttered, beginning to pace in the darkness she knew so well.

Aidan was silent for a long time, then he cleared his throat and said, "So let's try to figure out how you control the door."

She continued to stride back and forth restlessly, certain she had never felt as awkward in her miserable life.

"Lyssa?" He heaved out his breath. "You know what I think?" "What?" That I'm a sex-starved nutcase?

"I think you're too keyed up to focus on dreaming."

"Don't you mean 'hard up'?" She walked away from temptation, her bare feet padding softly across the warm floor. For the first time in a very long time, she wished she were alone, which made her grumpy along with frustrated.

"You can dream just fine when you're focused," he called after her.

Snorting, she shook her head. "Say it," she grumbled under her breath. "I need to get laid."

She gasped as strong arms caught her about the waist and held her tight to a rock-hard chest.

Against the curve of her buttocks she felt his arousal, a hot and substantial presence that burned through her sweats to her skin. Her brain stopped working, unable to process the fact that he might want her, too.

"I'll do more than say it, Hot Stuff," he rumbled in her ear.

Then he spun her to face him and took her mouth with breath-stealing hunger, before lowering her down onto golden sand…