Rowan McBride Pauls Dream(1)

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

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Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge

Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana.
Copyright 2007, Rowan McBride. All rights reserved. No part
of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the
prior written permission of the authors.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and

dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are
not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events
or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Prologue

Even in those cold, dark corners hidden in dreams,

this fire will burn forever.

The door at the top of the stairway scraped open, but Kian

didn't bother to look up. Only one person ever ventured down
here.

His master, coming to steal more of his life-force to

enhance his own potency.

Kian's body ached with hunger. These iron chains wrapped

around him grew heavier every day. He was a resilient being,
but even he had his limits, and he'd almost reached his.

"Three hours, and the destination is nothing but a dank

hole in the ground."

He glanced up at the unfamiliar voice, surprised to see the

man standing before him. A human, dressed in an
immaculate white dress shirt and black slacks. "Who are
you?"

"Paul." He slipped his hands into his pockets and walked

around the cell. "No windows, no doors other than the
entrance, and no more clues." He looked down at Kian, his
startling blue eyes cool, disinterested. "Which means you
must be the point of this dream."

"Dream?" Yes, now that the suggestion had been put forth,

he could see the signs. The fog at the edges of his vision, the
lack of substance to the grey stone that made up the walls

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

around him. But he was also experienced enough to recognize
that this was a dreamscape laced with magic. "How did you
get here?"

"Happened the way it always happens. Mazes, puzzles,

riddles. And now I'm here." Paul crouched in front of him,
reached out. "To free you, apparently."

"No!" Kian scrambled away, and the chains binding him to

the floor yanked him down again. The iron collar around his
neck choked him, and he coughed and sputtered as he tried
to regain his breath. "Chains ... enchanted ... without a
key..."

His face calm, Paul pulled a large iron key from his pocket.

"This key?"

He stilled when he caught sight of it. "Where did you get

that?"

"These dreams always have one possible goal. Sometimes

it takes a while to figure it out, but I always do." He reached
forward again. "Hasn't taken me this long since I was a boy,
though."

The chains rattled and clanged as Kian twisted his body,

just barely escaping Paul's touch. "Please, don't." Dream or
no dream, in this state he'd suck the human dry if freed.

Paul sighed and sat on the cool stone floor. "An emotional

component; I'm never good at solving those."

Curious, cautious, he turned to take another look at his

visitor. The man's beauty dazzled the senses, even in the dim
light of the single bulb hanging above them. His raven hair
and strong, cut features drew the eye in ways Kian had never
before experienced, while the blue in his gaze glittered like

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

pure, precious gems. Yet there was a coldness about him that
he couldn't fathom. "Emotional component?"

"It's hard for me to relate to people, so when empathy is

required to solve a puzzle, it takes a lot longer." He rested his
wrists on upraised knees. "I don't think I've felt anything
substantial since I was a child."

How could a human with no true emotions walk into

another's dream? The very act required profound sensitivity.
"Do you know what I am?"

He shrugged. "I usually have dreams like this when on a

particularly intricate case. One could argue that my mind is
working through a subconscious manifestation of a challenge
I'm facing in my waking life."

No dream walker he'd ever met spoke like this. "Case?"
"I work at Harcourt, Coleman, and Krauss."
Kian fell silent, trying to comprehend the cold human

before him.

"How long have you been here?"
He met Paul's sapphire gaze, forced himself to ignore his

hunger. "I'm not sure. Years, I think."

"Why?"
"I've been enslaved to provide pleasure for a master."
"Enslaved," he repeated softly, although his expression

didn't change. "That's not right."

Kian sensed that the human said the words because of

some internal moral code, not because he was particularly
outraged. "You're a strange dream walker."

Nothing registered on the other man's face. "Dream

walker?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

He didn't know. How could anyone be unaware of such a

gift? "It's rare magic."

"There's no such thing as magic."
The enchanted chains restricted Kian's true power, so he

was in no position to convince him otherwise. Besides,
disbelief often proved an adequate form of protection for
humans. "Alright."

Paul studied him a long moment. "Why don't you want me

to set you free?"

"Because I'll kill you if you do."
"Ah." He got to his feet, leaned down. "It's just a dream."

He grasped the collar around Kian's neck, slid the key into the
lock fastening it.

"Wait! Don't!"
The key turned, the lock tumbled, and the collar fell away.
"Sorry, but I can't wake up until I accomplish the goal."

Paul straightened. "And I'm a busy man. Too busy for
dreams."

Kian stared in shock as the human faded from sight. The

fog at the edges of the cell engulfed the room, swirled around
him, and darkened into black.

* * * *

Kian opened his eyes and sat up. The iron collar around his

neck clattered to the floor, taking the rest of the chains with
it. Sweet, hot fire filled his body—his power returning full
force.

Slowly he rose to his feet, running his hands over the raw

skin of his throat, his arms, his wrists.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Free.
The human had used a dream to enact real change in the

waking world. A great deal of power, and he was completely
unaware.

Kian would have to deliver a personal thank you.
The door above scraped open, and he glanced up, half

expecting to see his rescuer walk down the steps. But it
wasn't Paul.

It was his former master.
Richard Davis froze in place, staring first at the chains on

the floor and then at the creature standing in the center of
the room.

Kian looked him over—took in Richard's broad shoulders,

the muscled torso and long legs. His gaze settled on the
prominent bulge in the crotch of his trousers.

Time to take back all that had been stolen from him.
Lifting his head, Kian let a vicious grin shape his mouth.
"You seem to be quite fond of bondage, Richard. We'll see

how you feel about it when I'm through with you."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chapter One

"Mr. Graham, I'm sure you would agree that this is a cut

and dry case."

Paul's gaze didn't waver as he studied the smug look on

opposing counsel's face. They sat across from each other at a
long mahogany table. He didn't usually handle simple contract
disputes, but it was for one of their most important clients, so
Paul was called in. "It is cut and dry, Mr. Sterling. In my
client's favor."

Sterling shook his head. "Turner Concrete revoked their

offer before Kite Construction could accept. They notified Kite
of the termination via courier—a direct communication. There
is no contract."

Was this their entire argument? "Communication of a

terminated offer only voids a potential contract if the offer is
revocable. Kite relied on this offer in determining the costs of
a substantial job. They then submitted a bid based on these
costs and won the bid, thereby relying on Turner Concrete to
their detriment. Turner was well aware of this, and now they
are obligated to deliver the product at the price offered."

The grin faded from Sterling's mouth. He turned his head,

whispered something to his co-counsel. Then he turned to his
other side to discuss the issue with his client.

Paul kept his gaze locked forward, waiting.
Sterling leaned on the table, linking his hands together.

"We're prepared to honor the agreement."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

His face expressionless, Paul opened a folder and pushed it

to the other side. "This is a copy of the original contract. As
you can see, Martin Kite has already signed it. If Mr. Turner
signs it today, then our firm will drop our suit against you."

Sterling took a few minutes to look it over before handing

the contract to Sam Turner, who gritted his teeth as he
signed it. Once done, Turner and his team of four lawyers
stood and exited the room.

Martin jumped to his feet. "Hot dog! That was fantastic."
Paul took the contract, slid it into his briefcase before

snapping it shut. It hadn't been anything spectacular—this
was basic contract law. How they thought they could slide by
with ignoring the facts was beyond him.

"I'm glad you're satisfied with the outcome, sir." He

straightened, looked at the barrel of a man in front of him.
"We value you as a client."

Laughing, he grabbed Paul and planted a loud kiss on his

forehead. "You're a crackerjack kid, you know that?"

"I try, sir."
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he ruffled Paul's hair.

"And cool as ice. That's why I always ask for you when I get
myself into a jam."

A smile touched his lips. A few more clients like this, and

he'd make partner before he was thirty. "Thank you, sir. I
appreciate your faith in me."

Still chuckling, Martin left the conference room.
And Paul moved on to his next case.

* * * *

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

It was past ten when he had done enough to head home.

He walked out of the elevator and into the vast lobby of the
Harcourt Building, mentally reviewing a list of restaurants
that would still be open this time of night.

"Hello, Paul."
He turned, saw a man leaning against one of the marble

columns. Waves of copper hair framed his face, curled under
his chin. He seemed out of place here, dressed in a midnight
blue t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. "I'm sorry, do I know
you?"

The man approached, a playful smile on his mouth. "You

don't remember me?"

Light caught his brown eyes, made them shine like

polished bronze in the sun. "You do seem familiar."

"Understandable, I suppose. It's been almost four years

since we met." He stopped just short of bumping into Paul,
standing a couple inches shorter. "I imagine the memory of
me is much like a dream."

His eyebrows drew together. "Very familiar," he said softly.
He chuckled—a full, rich sound. "That's something." His

warm smile reached all the way to his eyes. "Ah, Paul. You
are even more striking than I remember."

It made him uneasy, that intimate gaze. "Who are you?"
"Kian."
"Kian what?"
"Somers, but knowing my name will not help. You never

asked it."

Paul glanced away. "Oh. You're someone I've hurt."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Kian ducked his head, catching his gaze. "Quite the

opposite, actually. You saved me."

Staring into those eyes coaxed that familiarity into tugging

at him again. "Saved you?"

"Did you know there are one hundred and twenty-three

'Pauls' employed by your firm? That's why it took me so long
to find you. If I hadn't taken the time to sift through
investigators, paralegals, librarians and such, I would have
found you much sooner." He grinned. "I should have known
from the beginning you could have only been a lawyer."

Paul still couldn't figure out where he'd met this man.

"Why were you looking for me?"

Kian's bronze eyes focused on his lips. "In retrospect, I

shouldn't have started with your Italian office, either. But I
needed ... I needed to be in a warmer environment. Just for a
while."

That touch of sadness seemed to run deep, and Paul

softened his voice, not wanting to bring any more of it to the
surface. "Are you alright?"

The sadness evaporated with a little flick of his head. Kian

edged closer, his gaze still locked on Paul's mouth. "I wish to
have a drink with you. Let's go—right now—to some dark, out
of the way bar. We'll sit too close, we'll speak too softly. Then
we'll go back to your place and I'll sear the memory of me
into your body so you will never forget me again."

Although he often received propositions for sex, no one

had ever been quite this bold about it. He glanced around the
lobby, empty save for the clerk at the front desk and a couple
of security guards. Paul wouldn't mind going home with

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Kian—he had one of those bodies that promised physical
satisfaction—but decided against it. "No thanks."

Shock flickered over his face. "You're ... You're turning me

down?"

The man acted like he'd never been rejected before. "Yes."
Hank, a security guard, walked up to them. "Is everything

okay, Mr. Graham?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Kian.

"I'm fine, Hank."
The guard took a deep breath, causing the thick muscles of

his chest to strain against his pale blue uniform as he took a
step closer to Kian. "And what about you?"

"Confused, but unharmed."
Hank lowered his head. "Are you sure there's nothing I can

do to help you out?"

Paul's gaze traveled over the normally stalwart guard's

body. He took note of the impressive erection tenting the big
man's trousers, thought that Kian would be getting lucky
tonight after all, and began to walk away.

"Don't leave, Paul." Looking annoyed, Kian turned his head

and spoke into the guard's ear.

Paul couldn't catch the words, but whatever he was saying

really got to Hank. The man's cock throbbed against his pants
as his breathing came harder. His skin turned a dusky shade
of red as faint moans streamed from his mouth. As his hands
curled into fists, that big body began to rock back and forth.

All at once, Hank stiffened, and a huge wet spot appeared

at his crotch. He gasped for air while Kian spoke a few more
words, and then the guard staggered off toward the men's
restrooms.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"What did you do to him?" asked Paul, his eyes wide.
"I made him come."
"I see that, but..."
"It was the only way to make him leave us alone." Kian

paced the floor. "Did you really turn me down just now?"

They were back to the rejection? "Yes, but I don't see what

that has to do with..."

"And what just happened didn't affect you at all." He

paused, ran his fingers through his copper hair.

"It affected me a great deal. That's why I'm asking how

you..."

He closed the distance between them. "See the night clerk

over there? His hand is thrust deep into his pants because the
very sight of me makes him lose all control."

Paul glanced over his shoulder, saw that the clerk did

indeed seem to be in a state of bliss. "How do you know he's
thinking of you?"

"Because that's what I am, Paul. I'm every dirty thought,

every sweat-drenched urge you've ever had. I'm the fire that
fuels your libido." He leaned closer. "The whole of my
attention is focused on you. Why aren't you on your knees,
drinking from my cock?"

Apparently, in his past, he'd managed to save a mental

patient. "Go home, get some sleep."

That shocked expression returned to his face. "Why don't

you want me?"

"It's not that. I don't want to hurt you, not after I went to

the trouble of saving you." He smiled. "Even if I don't
remember it."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Kian fell back a step.
The man had obviously come a long way to find him. Paul

didn't think it was right not to acknowledge his effort. "Do you
need cab fare? I'll give you enough money to get you
wherever you need to go."

He shook his head. "No, I don't need cab fare."
Was it a good idea to leave him alone here? He hesitated,

but there was nothing he could do for Kian. He hadn't broken
any laws, thankfully, and he hadn't done anything that
warranted a stay in a padded room. Paul certainly couldn't
take him home—that could turn an obviously unhealthy
attachment into full-blown obsession—and he didn't need the
complication.

"Will you be alright, Kian? You do have a place to stay,

don't you?"

Kian hooked his thumbs into his pockets. "There is no need

to worry about me, Paul."

He stopped short, realizing that was exactly what he'd

spent the last several seconds doing. Paul didn't worry. About
anyone.

All the more reason to walk out of here.
"Take care, Kian." He turned, left the building without

looking back.

I'm the fire that fuels your libido.

He ignored the words echoing in his head. Although the

statement seemed to have been true enough with Hank, he
knew it didn't apply to him. As much as he enjoyed sex, he
just wasn't built for passion.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

And he'd never been one to play with fire.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chapter Two

Paul stared up at a white wall with bright blue print

scrawled across it.

What gets wetter the more it dries?

He glanced over his shoulder at the simple, brightly lit

maze behind him. The thing had been lined with daisies. And
he'd only encountered one puzzle—a ten piece jigsaw that
revealed a picture of a floppy-eared puppy once done.

He looked down at the teddy bear in his hands.
Whatever the point of this dream, it involved a child.
Spotting a box of crayons propped against the wall, he

chose a blue to match the writing, thought better of it, and
chose an emerald green instead.

Children liked their colors bright and varied, right?
He leaned against the wall, wrote the answer to the riddle

at an upward angle.

A towel.

The wall shimmered and sparkled, coalesced into a pink

unicorn and galloped away.

A little girl in mismatched pajamas sat on a bed, sobbing

into her hands.

Uncomfortable with the scene, Paul kept his distance.

"Hello?"

She lifted her head, sniffled. "H-Hi."
"What's wrong?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Her lips trembled, and her wails returned full-force. "F-

Frankie's gone! I don't know where he went!"

So alone. It tugged strings inside Paul he didn't even know

he had. "Who's Frankie?"

"M-My best friend." She hugged her knees to her chest.

"It's so hard to sleep good when he's not here."

Paul walked to her bed and crouched beside her. "Is this

Frankie?" he asked, placing the teddy bear he'd found on the
mattress.

"You found him!" She squealed and swept the doll into her

arms. "Thanks!"

His body tingled and he stood, knowing the dream was

over. "You're welcome."

"Wait!"
The tingling stopped, and he glanced down at her. "Yes?"
"Will he..." She hugged Frankie tight. "Will he be here

when I wake up?"

The question caught him off-guard. He'd never had a

dream wonder what would happen once the dream was over.
"I-I don't know."

She tucked herself in, nuzzled the bear. "I hope he's here."
"I hope so too."
Her eyes drifted closed. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," he said softly, fading away.

* * * *

Kian stood on the branch of a maple tree, his gaze fixed on

a sliding glass door as he watched Paul sleep. The human
slept in nothing but a pair of black silk pants, and hunger

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

burned through him as he watched the rise and fall of that
sculpted chest.

"Heard you got rejected."
He glanced up and saw Zakai standing on a branch above

him, clad in his usual white linen as he leaned against the
trunk. "It was not a rejection. It was merely ... an invitation
to give chase."

Chuckling, Zakai gracefully leapt from the tree and onto

the railing of Paul's balcony. He leaned forward to get a closer
look. "He's a handsome one. Stunning, really."

"I know."
He turned, crossed his arms over his chest. His flaxen hair

lifted and flowed with the breeze. "But he has barely a spark
of passion within him. He cannot keep you fed."

"That's not why I want him." He thought of the security

guard who had approached him earlier today. "There are
others who fill that need."

Zakai raised an eyebrow, jumped to stand on the same

branch as Kian. "You're determined to have him, aren't you?"

"Yes."
"Then why don't you send him an erotic dream? Humans

are so pliable when they believe the idea is theirs."

Kian stared through the window. "I'd meant to do just

that, but he wasn't in his body when I arrived. He only
returned a few seconds ago, and I'm reluctant to force him
into another dream so soon after the conclusion of the first
one."

"He's a dream walker?" Zakai spun to look at Paul. "Wait,

is he the dream walker? The one who saved you?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"The very one. Though he has almost no memory of me."
"Well, who remembers a dream they had four years ago?"
Kian gripped a branch above him. "I'll drag those

memories to the surface, and I'll create new ones filled with
fire."

Zakai glanced at him, concern shaping his features. "I

know he rescued you and everything, but I don't understand
why he's so special to you. Didn't you say he only released
you to release himself from the dream?"

His grip tightened, splintering the wood in his hand.

"Richard Davis's spell bound and cloaked me for three years.
You couldn't find me. No one could find me. I was forced to
service him, and he stole my essence to enhance his own
appearance, his own sexual vitality, while he left me to starve
beneath his mansion. I'd never been so alone."

Kian leveled a hard gaze on his longtime friend. "Paul

Graham might not have known the significance of his actions,
but he was there, Zakai. So, if he's strong enough, I intend to
gift him with every pleasure I've acquired in the thousand
years I have walked this earth."

Zakai stood quiet a long moment. "Alright," he said finally.

"So how do you seduce a man who doesn't feel your magic?"

He'd never been without his magic, so he really wasn't

sure. "I imagine I'll have to be charming." His gaze drifted
back to Paul's sleeping form. "And creative with my pursuit."

Grinning, Zakai looped an arm around his shoulders. "Need

any help?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Kian smirked, more than familiar with Zakai's brand of

help. "Not this time, my friend. I don't believe I am capable of
sharing him."

Zakai sighed in disappointment. "Will you begin your chase

tonight?"

"No, tonight I'll let him rest."
His grin returned. "There's a party going on in a

warehouse downtown. Lots of young, virile humans thrusting
against each other to the beat of primitive, bass-heavy
music." He gripped Kian's chin in his thumb and forefinger,
tilted his head back. "The most subtle of pushes would turn it
into a most glorious orgy. Would you like to come? Over and
over again?"

He laughed. Zakai's lust for life was legendary, even

among their kind, and the fire within his own body leapt and
licked, begging for release. "Lead the way."

Winking at him, Zakai took off running over tree branches

and rooftops.

Kian had no trouble following.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chapter Three

"Man, I hate these things."
Paul took a martini from a passing waiter. "Are you talking

about the tuxedo, or the event?"

Asher Croft, another lawyer at the firm, tugged at his

collar. "Both."

"It's for a good cause."
"Oh yeah." He took a long drink of Scotch. "What charity

are we here for again?"

They'd come to work for Harcourt, Coleman, and Krauss

the same year, so technically they were always in competition
within the company. But Asher had taken a shine to him since
they'd met, and their relationship seemed to be devoid of the
cutthroat law firm politics that should have been the focus of
their lives.

"This charity will provide computers for inner city school

districts."

"Hey," said Asher, handing his empty glass to a waiter.

"That's a pretty good one."

Paul scanned the room. "It is. It's also a good opportunity

to network, maybe meet some potential clients."

"Paul, do you ever think about anything but law?"
He paused, glanced over at his friend. At five-ten, Asher

stood three inches shorter, with brown hair and cheerful
green eyes. "I really do think it's a good cause."

Asher laughed, clapped him on the shoulder as he leaned

close. "Do yourself a favor. Pick one of these overdressed,

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by Rowan McBride

over-primped, overindulgent people, and have a roll in the
coatroom."

If Paul's gift was detail—the letter of the law—then Asher's

was people. He could read them better than anyone Paul had
ever met, and often focused on the spirit of the law when
working on a case. "It's so easy for you."

He grinned. "It'd be easy for you too, if you'd just let

yourself go once in a while. It's not like you're hard on the
eyes."

True enough that men and women alike found him

attractive. Paul had never been moved by their interest,
though. He only accepted their offers of sex when his body
was tight, in need of release.

And then he forgot them.
Hurt them.
Like Kian, despite the fact he was reasonably sure he'd

never slept with the man. Those bronze eyes and copper
waves of hair would be difficult to forget.

He forced the thoughts of Kian from his mind. That had

been two weeks ago. "Do you plan to have a 'roll' in the
coatroom, Asher?"

"You bet." Someone caught his eye across the room, and

he patted Paul's shoulder again before taking off. "Right
now."

Paul barely had time to register his departure before

Edward Krauss, a senior partner in the firm, took his place.

"Mr. Graham, congratulations on the swift resolution of the

Kite-Turner dispute. Martin had nothing but good things to
say about you."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Paul shook his hand. "Thank you, sir."
"Yes, Graham," said Alan Frist, another partner. "More

clients are requesting you by name, and your reputation has
attracted quite a few new ones as well."

Stephen Riker, a lawyer the same age as Paul, approached

with his hands in his pockets. "Turning out to be a little bit of
a rainmaker, aren't you, Paul?"

Paul leveled a cool gaze on Riker. This was a man who

took intra-office politics very, very seriously. "I do my best."

Edward chuckled, sipped his cognac. "Your best is

extraordinary."

"Speaking of extraordinary," said Alan, patting Riker on

the back. "Have you heard, Edward? This one hooked Bexar
Pharmaceuticals for us this morning."

"Really?" asked Edward, clearly impressed. "We've been

trying to get them for years."

Riker winked at Paul. "I do my best."
Although Paul enjoyed his friendship with Asher, he also

enjoyed the challenges presented by someone who honestly
wanted to take him down. "Bexar Pharmaceuticals is one of
the most complex corporations in the world, and the cutting-
edge research they do would even confuse a certified M.D. I
have an affinity for technical jargon, so be sure to knock on
my door if those intricacies start to overwhelm you."

Riker's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure I can handle it. Thanks

for the offer, though."

"Anytime," he said, raising his glass.
Alan cleared his throat. "So, Graham. What's on the

agenda for next week?"

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His gaze left Stephen Riker. "The Hamilton-McDonough

merger. I'll also be drawing up contracts for..." His voice
trailed when he caught a glimpse of copper in the distance.

"What was that?" asked Edward.
"Contracts for Titan Dynamics. They plan to acquire..."
There it was again.
"Are you alright, Graham?" asked Alan.
He blinked, tried to remember what he'd been talking

about. "They plan to acquire..."

Kian wove his way through the crowd on the other side of

the room. He turned his head, smiled, and walked out of
sight.

Paul placed his drink on a passing tray. "Excuse me,

gentlemen. There's a matter that needs my attention."

Without waiting for their response, Paul left them to cross

the room. He paused underneath the central chandelier,
having no idea which way to go from here.

"Looking for me?"
He spun, saw the man who'd occupied his thoughts more

than once over the last couple of weeks. "Kian."

He smiled. "Hello, Paul."
"What are you doing here?" This time he didn't seem at all

out of place, personifying elegance in a perfectly tailored suit.
The royal blue vest beneath his ebony jacket set off his hair,
his eyes. It didn't even matter that he wore his tie in a
Windsor knot instead of a bow.

Paul wondered if he'd ever rolled around in a coatroom.
"Did you miss me?" asked Kian.
He lowered his head. "Did you crash this party?"

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by Rowan McBride

"I donated a hundred thousand dollars to this charity."

Kian pulled a white card from his breast pocket. "So I
received an invitation to the gala celebration."

"A hundred thousand dollars?" Paul straightened. "I'm

sorry, that was rude of me."

Rich laughter enveloped him. "I have an excellent

portfolio. That's what you wanted to ask, isn't it? Where I got
so much money?"

Kian seemed to be one surprise after another. Could he

afford to be connected to such a person? "I didn't mean to
insult you."

"I wasn't insulted." Kian's gaze slid over him. "That's a

very sharp tux, Paul." He leaned forward. "And such a perfect
bow at your neck. You look like a present, begging to be
unwrapped."

"Thanks, I think."
Kian settled back on his heels, still smiling. "You really

don't feel me, do you?"

Paul's brow furrowed. "Feel you?"
"Look around. The men are already shedding their jackets,

and the women are flushed with liquid warmth."

He glanced around, saw that Kian was right. "It is a little

hot in here," he admitted.

"The heat you feel is a result of their body temperatures

rising; the heat they feel is borne of sexual desire."

Paul didn't want to believe the thought that popped into

his head. "Kian, you didn't spike the punch, did you?"

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That full, rich laughter surrounded him again. "No, I did

not spike the punch. These people feel the way they do
simply because I've walked into the room."

He raised an eyebrow. "None of them are looking at you."
Kian walked around his body, his intent gaze studying

every part of him. "I made sure to let my presence fill this
space, so no one has been able to pinpoint the source of their
arousal yet. That way, we have a bit of time to ourselves,
without an interruption like before." His gaze lingered on
Paul's ass before he came full circle and looked up at him.
"They'll figure it out soon, though, and they'll be irresistibly
drawn to me."

Audacious. Vibrant. Maybe a little bit crazy. The

combination should have had Paul backing away, but instead
he grinned. "You're so cocky."

The other man paused, fell silent.
"What's wrong?"
Kian's face softened, losing some of its cockiness. "That's

the first genuine smile I've seen on your mouth since we've
met."

Real smiles didn't come nearly as often as Paul would like,

but he'd learned long ago to fake it when necessary. It
unnerved him that someone could see through the mask.
"How can you tell?"

"I spend a lot of time studying the human condition. For

instance," Kian pointed to a couple by the bar, "that man is
having sublimely naughty thoughts about his wife, but he's
afraid to broach the subject because he thinks she will be
appalled. Any second now, the wife will take his hand and

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lead him to a semi-private corner to act on a few naughty
thoughts of her own."

"Won't happen," said Paul. "That's Edward Krauss. He's as

straight-laced as they come."

The corner of Kian's mouth crooked. "Wait for it."
Sure enough, Mrs. Krauss took her husband's hand and led

him from the ballroom.

"That doesn't prove anything," said Paul. "They could be

going anywhere."

Kian chuckled, his gaze never leaving Paul. "By now, I'd

wager most of the men present have unfastened the first
buttons of their shirts. The women have donned provocative,
come-hither smiles. Both sexes are inching closer to each
other."

God, he was right. He watched as a woman he didn't know

grabbed Riker's hand and whispered something into his ear.
The other lawyer's eyebrows arched upward a moment, but
soon enough he'd regained his composure and was leaving
with her.

Kian had done a lot more than spike the punch, and Paul

leaned down, dropped his voice. "What did you do?"

Mischief sparked his eyes. "I'm merely standing here. With

you."

"Kian, you could get into a lot of..."
"Listen."
Paul stopped short and listened. The mood of the entire

room had changed—people spoke in warm, intimate
murmurs; their soft laughter floated on the air. Somehow, he
doubted any of them were discussing corporate mergers.

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Kian took a step forward. "There's an ebb and flow to the

tone of their voices, isn't there? It's because the blood in their
veins throbs to the pulse of my heart." He pressed his palm to
his own chest, and his fingers tapped against his blue vest to
mimic a heartbeat. "Even the band has shifted their style of
music to match my rhythm."

The music did indeed have the same beat as Kian's hand.

And the easy listening had melted into something slow,
sultry. Subtle touches, stolen kisses, rising heat. With every
note played, the touches became less subtle, the kisses
became more fervent, and the heat continued to rise.

"How are you doing this?" asked Paul.
"It's simple. I'm an..."
"Hi, Paul. Who's your friend?"
Although he wanted to hear the rest of Kian's sentence,

Paul nodded to the first-year who had appeared beside them.
"Julia, this is Kian. Kian, this is Julia. She's joined our firm
fresh from Harvard."

She smiled at Kian as she fingered the thin silk strap on

her long, silver dress. "Hi there."

Kian winked at Paul, then focused his full attention on her.

"Julia. That is such a..." he inhaled her scent, "lush name."

Julia's fingers slipped from her spaghetti strap to caress

the tops of her breasts.

A smile ghosted on his lips as he watched her. Julia

blushed as his eyes traced the smooth, delicate lines of her
face. She shivered when he let his gaze dip lower, to the
curve of her neck, to her almost bare shoulders. When he

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reached her breasts, her nipples tightened, clearly visible
through the thin material of her dress.

A soft moan escaped her as she arched her back.
His eyes slid downward, caressed her slim waist, the curve

of her hips. She quivered when he reached her thighs.

She gasped when his gaze settled on the juncture between

them.

Paul thought he should say something, but he could only

stare at her, having never seen anything like this in his life.
He glanced at Kian—his face was calm, warm, openly
amused. Whatever was happening, he was in control.

Kian's lips parted, and she stopped breathing. He lifted his

gaze, and her body shuddered.

"Come for me, Julia."
She threw back her head and screamed.
Paul caught her when she collapsed and lowered her to the

floor. "Julia?"

"Give her a moment, Paul."
He stared at the pearls of sweat rolling over her skin, her

heavy-lidded eyes. He looked up at Kian. "Is she hurt?"

Surprise flickered in his face, softened into curiosity. "Of

course not. That's probably the best orgasm she's had in her
life." He crouched beside them. "Isn't that right, Julia?"

She stretched in Paul's arms, a blissful smile on her lips.

"Mmm."

"There, you see?" He gestured to one of many tables

against the wall. "Why don't you guide her to a chair so she
can recover?"

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by Rowan McBride

Paul picked her up, cradling her in his arms as he strode to

the far wall. He set her into a chair, propped another one
under her feet to make her more comfortable. When he
straightened, Kian stood in front of him, his expression
playful, teasing.

"Your body is strong for a ... lawyer."
Paul thrust his hands into his pockets. "What happened to

her?"

Kian smiled. "She found me inescapably attractive."
Like Hank, two weeks ago. As Paul glanced at Julia's

sleeping form, he began to rethink some of Kian's
statements. "Apparently," he murmured. Perhaps it wasn't
cockiness he'd seen in the other man after all. Perhaps it was
simple honesty.

"What about you?" Kian ducked his head and caught his

gaze. "Do you find me attractive? I know you don't feel the
same things as Julia, but..." He eased closer. "Do you?"

The vulnerability in his eyes caught Paul off-guard. "Yes."
And, just like that, the vulnerability vanished. "You're so

guileless. I would not have expected that from someone in
your profession." The color in Kian's eyes deepened, warmed
into an invitation. "I find you attractive as well."

Paul shook his head. "Is that why you donated so much

money to this charity? Just to stand here with me?"

"I want to do more than 'stand here.' I want to bring you

rapture the likes of which you've never known."

The need in Kian's face concerned him. Paul never slept

with anyone when complications would likely result, for their
own good. "I ... can't."

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Kian's brow furrowed. "But you find me attractive. What is

holding you back?"

Someone moaned behind him and Paul jumped, spun to

find the source of the sound. One of the waiters braced
himself against a wall as another man dropped to his knees,
drawing down his zipper.

"Paul?"
He tore his gaze from the scene. "Yes?"
Kian studied his face. "The arousal of these people, it

doesn't spark your own?"

The ballroom was charged with emotion, and it was totally

alien to him. What were they feeling?

And why couldn't he feel it?
"No," said Paul, glancing around. "I don't understand

what's going on. It's a puzzle with missing pieces, a riddle I
can't solve, a maze..."

"With no end?"
His attention returned to Kian. "Exactly." It soothed his

frayed nerves to realize the other man understood. Having
someone to focus on in the midst of this chaos made the
situation ... easier.

Regret touched Kian's features. "I've chosen the wrong

tactics, and now I've agitated you." His gaze drifted to the
stage, where the band had all but fallen apart. "I'll have to
find another strategy."

"Strategy?"
Kian glanced up at him and grinned. "I'm sorry. I'll leave

now."

"Leave? Where are you..."

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by Rowan McBride

But he was already walking away, and Paul knew better

than to call for him.

As he strode out of the ballroom, Kian raised a hand and

snapped his fingers.

A chorus of moans flooded the room. The scent of sex

saturated the air as every man and woman present lost
themselves in the throes of orgasm. They sank to the floor as
moans gave way to sighs of contentment. In seconds, Paul
was the only one left standing.

Why?

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by Rowan McBride

Chapter Four

Paul paid the cab driver and climbed the steps to his

brownstone. He tried not to wonder what Kian might be
doing. That man was trouble, in ways he was sure he didn't
understand. Still...

How had he managed to whip a ballroom full of people into

a sexual frenzy? Some sort of psychotropic drug, maybe. In
the food, or even the ventilation system. But if that was the
case, then why hadn't he been affected?

That thing with Julia ... he hadn't known what the hell to

think when she screamed. It surprised him to find out it was
an orgasm. His first thought was an injury, because no one
he'd ever slept with had screamed like that.

He pulled his keys from his pocket.
So screaming had never been a part of his sex life. That

didn't mean something was wrong with him, did it? It wasn't
as if he wanted to lose control and pass out on a ballroom
floor like the guests at the gala. He was just ... curious. About
what they'd felt. About the blissful smiles on their lips as they
slept.

About the man who'd caused it all.
"Midnight is far too early to be home from a party, Paul."
He turned, bursting into laughter when he saw Kian

standing on the sidewalk. Genuine, unexpected, relieved
laughter.

Kian smiled.

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by Rowan McBride

Paul cleared his throat, got control of himself. He walked

down the steps, slipping his keys back into his pocket. "You
know, New York has strict laws regarding stalking."

"Oh?"
He stood on the sidewalk in front of his house. "They range

from a Class B misdemeanor to a Class D felony. You could
get anywhere from ninety days in jail to seven years in
prison." He lowered his head. "That's seven years in a cool,
grey box..."

Images flashed through his mind. Grey stone. Iron chains.
"What is it?" asked Kian, all teasing gone from his

expression. "Tell me."

Paul shook his head even as he tried to bring back those

pictures. "It's nothing."

Kian undid the Windsor knot in his tie and gripped his

collar, pulling it downward.

The wide, ragged scar encircling the base of the other

man's throat made Paul's breath catch. He got an image of a
thick band of metal on bare skin.

"You're starting to remember me, aren't you?"
Frowning, Paul took a closer look. "Who did this to you,

Kian?"

"It doesn't matter." Kian released his collar as bitterness

permeated his voice. "He was punished."

"Unlawful imprisonment." There were scars on Kian's arms,

torso, thighs, ankles. Paul didn't understand it, but somehow
he knew that. "It's not right." He lifted his gaze, unused to
the ache in his chest. "It really isn't."

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The bitterness in Kian's face whispered away. "You've

changed a great deal since our first meeting, Paul."

"Have I? Oh." He straightened. "Was I harsh to you?

Cruel?"

Kian's mouth curved into a warm smile. "No. Just

disinterested."

Somewhere along the line, Paul had lost a piece of himself.

He didn't like how he treated people who wanted to get closer
to him, but he was powerless to stop it. "I'm sorry. I don't
know why I'm this way."

"Don't be sorry." Kian eased closer, stopping just short of

touching him. "That kiss of frost actually holds a great deal of
allure. I yearn to melt it."

Paul chuckled.
"So, are you going to have me charged with stalking?"
Grinning, he shook his head. "No one at the gala was hurt.

In fact, they all seemed relaxed, contented. So I don't think
you're dangerous. As long as you don't interfere with my
work, I don't mind you catching me in the lobby or standing
outside my house."

The playfulness returned to Kian's eyes. "And what about

your bed? Do you mind me in that?"

Determined, persistent, and damned if it wasn't charming.

"Why do you want me so badly? You've already proven you're
not a man who lacks for lovers."

"You saved me. I'm full of gratitude."
"Gratitude? That's the only reason you want to have sex

with me?"

Kian hesitated, studying his face. "Yes."

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by Rowan McBride

Paul's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Count yourself lucky

you'll never go up against me in a courtroom. I'm not good
with people, but I know when they lie to me."

A blush rose to his face—the first Paul had ever seen in

him.

"Paul," he leaned closer, nearly touching their noses

together, "I'm handsome, sexy, and very, very good in bed.
You won't be disappointed if you invite me in. I promise."

No one had ever wanted him this much. "I never thought

you'd disappoint me, Kian."

Hope lit his features. "No?"
"I'm the one who'll disappoint you." He'd never met a man

so open and playful. Not with him, anyway. He didn't want to
destroy that. He didn't want to imagine Kian hating him. "I ...
care what you think of me."

Kian looked thrown by the statement. "You care? For me?"
That wasn't exactly what he'd said, but Paul decided it was

true enough. "I don't know what you expect to get from me,
but I don't have it. So go home, okay?" He frowned. Although
Kian had shown up with an engraved invitation to the gala,
Paul had grown to doubt its validity over the course of the
night. "You do have a home, right? You didn't answer when I
asked you before."

"Yes, I have a home." He glanced away. "Lots of them."
Paul quelled his curiosity. "Then have a good night." He

turned and walked toward his house.

"Wait!" Kian grabbed his wrist.

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Fire arced up his arm, enveloped his core. His muscles

tightened. His stomach twisted. His legs grew weak as his
cock throbbed in the confines of his pants.

Shocked, Paul looked over his shoulder.
Kian tilted his head to the side, before a slow smile curved

his lips. "Ah, I see." He tugged Paul closer, those bronze eyes
inescapable as he reached up, trailed warm knuckles down his
cheek. "A physical touch is required to burn past your walls."

A gasp tore free from Paul as he trembled under that

touch.

Kian chuckled, low and rich. "So much wasted time. If I'd

known, I would have taken your delectable mouth in that
lobby." He leaned up to kiss him.

Paul wrenched himself away, stumbled backward. He

tripped and fell, crashing into the steps leading to his house.

In an instant, Kian was there, stretching on top of him.

"Don't run, Paul." He touched his mouth to the curve of Paul's
neck. "Let me set you afire."

Such soft lips ... they ripped a groan out of him. "Wh-

What's going on?"

"What do you think is going on?" Kian licked the underside

of his chin. "We're about to fuck."

Paul's back arched high as his cock stiffened. He could

barely breathe, he couldn't think.

Kian lifted his head, threaded his fingers through Paul's

hair. "So pure. You've never given your passion to anyone,
have you?" His lips parted as he took a breath. "What is this
taste? It's so sweet, warm, smooth. I never dreamed you
held such a treasure within."

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by Rowan McBride

Paul's body was out of control—his nerves burned while his

muscles spasmed. Desperate to get away from the source, he
tried to push himself up the stairs.

Kian grabbed a step beside his head, and his fingers

crushed the concrete.

Tremors rocked his body, but Paul forced himself to stop

moving. "Wh-What are you?"

"I'm an incubus, Paul." The tip of Kian's nose caressed his

cheek. "A creature that feeds on sexual energy."

Every touch, every word, burned. Paul tried to shove him

back, knowing he'd been wrong earlier.

Kian was dangerous.
After dropping a light kiss on his forehead, Kian caught

Paul's wrist and turned his head. Concern chased some of the
heat from his features at the sight of blood. "You've injured
yourself." Kian's other hand left the ruined step, slipped into
Paul's hair to tilt his head back. "You are far too beautiful a
man for scars."

Before he could respond, Kian captured his mouth.
Those lips seared, and Paul moaned. His body drew tight,

to the point he thought it might snap, and still Kian's mouth
moved against his. Heat blazed through him, engulfing him
from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.

Kian broke the kiss and brought his lips to Paul's bleeding

hand. Warm air flowed from his mouth, caressing the injury.
The wound closed, the blood faded. "There now," he
murmured. "Feel better?"

He flexed his hand, acutely aware of Kian's fingers

wrapped around his wrist. "It hurts."

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"Does it?" Kian glided his thumb over the healed skin.
The soft touch made his entire hand shake. "I-I've never

felt like this."

Kian's face was a picture of sympathy as he nodded. "I

know. I know." He leaned closer, chuckling over his lips.
"Someone as pure as you could not have felt such pleasure
before."

"It's not pleasure!" yelled Paul. "What are you doing to

me?"

Kian's laughter died away. "What is sex to you?"
He struggled, and the rough movement only intensified the

feelings inside of him, scorching his brain.

"That feels good, Paul." Kian's body firmed, locking him in

place. "But I want an answer."

Being forced to lie still damped some of the flames licking

at his thoughts. "A release. Sex is a release."

Kian looked honestly appalled. "No no no!" He lowered his

head and licked Paul's ear. "Sex is not just a release." His
voice roughened, sending vibrations through their bodies. "At
its best, sex is an explosion."

"I don't want any explosions," whispered Paul,

remembering Julia's scream, remembering the unconscious
guests at the gala.

"Of course you do. Your body is begging for one right now.

Haven't you noticed you've locked me in your embrace?"

Paul's eyes rounded. He hadn't even realized he was

clinging to Kian's body.

Kian rocked his hips forward, grinding their cocks together.

"Do you want me?"

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Denying it would have been the smart answer, the safe

answer. Paul groaned, clutching harder, pressing closer as
smart and safe lost their value. There was no denying this
thing inside him. And only Kian knew how to get rid of it. "Y-
Yes."

"You'll let me bring you rapture?"
Rapture? That implied an emotion more intense than the

one currently gripping him, and the concept was frightening.

Kian stroked his hair. "You saved me, and I'm forever in

your debt. I'll not harm you."

Paul still couldn't remember that, and he didn't have the

voice to ask. But Kian could have done any number of things
to him since they'd met, and he'd never taken the
opportunity.

Trying to trust in their limited experiences together, Paul

gave him a small, hesitant nod.

His face glowing with approval, Kian hopped to his feet.

"We'll save these steps for another night. I wish our first time
to be in your bed."

First time? Paul shivered, hugged himself.
Kian grinned. "It's cold without my body next to yours,

isn't it?" He held out his hand. "Come, allow me to warm
you."

Apprehension held him back a moment as he wondered

whether the cold might be preferable to getting involved with
this person. But heat radiated from Kian even now; tempting
him, drawing him in. Unable to resist the lure, Paul sat up and
reached for his hand.

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The warmth rushed into him as the other man pulled him

to his feet. He started to fall forward, but Kian pushed him
back.

"See how eager you are?" He turned Paul around and gave

him a gentle shove up the stairs. "I'm eager too, but first you
must open your door."

He took the first step, reluctant to break contact with him

now that the decision to let him in was made.

Kian curved his hand over Paul's ass. "I'm not going

anywhere."

His body started. "You can read my mind?"
"No." Hot words brushed the nape of his neck. "But your

body is an open book."

Paul shuddered and climbed the stairs. His hand shook as

he retrieved his keys, fumbled as he tried to unlock the door.

Kian's hand slid down his arm, over his wrist, and helped

him guide the key into the lock.

The click sounded like a thunderclap in the still night, and

Paul gasped.

Kissing the skin just above his collar, Kian coaxed him into

opening the door.

God, what was about to happen? Would he even survive

it?

Another gentle push, and he was inside. Kian closed the

door behind them, leaned back against it.

Dazed, Paul fell into his routine. He set his keys on a small

table by the door, his wallet alongside it. He removed his
shoes and returned them to their place in a row against the

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wall. Then, when he had nothing left to do, he looked up at
the incubus in his house.

Incubus...
Kian's eyes shimmered like melted bronze as they roved

over him. "Are you done with your ritual?"

He frowned. "Ritual?"
Full, seductive lips curved in an arresting smile. "I'm a

thousand years old, Paul. I know a ritual when I see one." He
stepped out of his own shoes, gave them a kick. They slid
into place at the end of the row. "You perform this one in an
attempt to steady yourself, to regain a measure of your
power. Such is the way of both creatures and humans."

A thousand years old? Maybe this was a dream ... but he'd

never had one like this.

"Creatures?"
"The world is separated into two types of sentient beings.

Humans," he palmed his chest and bowed slightly, "and
creatures."

Paul struggled to understand that, but the world had spun

away from reality in the last few minutes. Kian spoke of living
a thousand years as if it were casual conversation, had talked
about his routine like it was magic, and looked so human—not
at all like any 'creature' he'd ever envisioned. How could he
do this?

Kian straightened away from the door. "You feel you need

this ritual, so I allow it. But finish quickly, for the hunger I
have for you threatens to rip me apart."

Those words should terrify him, so why was his cock still

throbbing?

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"Th-That's it." He swallowed, forced some strength into his

voice. "I'm finished."

Suddenly, Kian stood inches from him. He leaned forward,

his lips parting as he took a breath. "Good."

Paul jumped backward and hit the wall. For a second

there, he'd thought he was ready, but he was nowhere near.
He needed time. Time to think things through, time to plot a
course of action.

Kian's eyes shimmered brighter. "You're frightened. That's

alright. It's natural to feel that way when someone is about to
take your virginity."

Confusion diminished some of the fear. "You've made a

mistake. I'm not a..."

"Your body is not virginal, I know, but you are." He

approached, at a normal speed this time. "That ends tonight."

Paul watched him: cautious, frozen in place.
The tips of Kian's fingers skimmed up his lapel, fastened

around his tie. He gave it a tug and it slid loose, fluttering to
the floor. "Ah yes, just like a present."

He stood motionless as Kian slid his jacket from his

shoulders. Nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt, and it joined
the jacket and tie.

Kian dropped a soft kiss on his shoulder, sending tremors

through Paul's entire body. "What is it like, Paul?" His tongue
darted out to caress the sensitive skin behind his ear.
"Touching fire for the first time?"

Paul groaned, wrapped his arms around him.

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Kian tasted his neck as he sent Paul's slacks to the floor.

There was a smile in his voice as his long fingers teased the
band of his underwear. "Plaid boxers. How quaint."

The teasing didn't bother him, as long as Kian didn't stop

touching him. Paul caressed his back, kissed his neck as he
felt those strong muscles undulate under his palms.

Kian stood still a moment. Smiling. Purring.
Purring?
He straightened, stared into those shimmering eyes. How

different were they, really?

The purr turned into a growl when Paul stopped touching

him. Kian shoved him hard into the wall, sucking a trail of hot
kisses over his shoulder, across his collarbone. He tore Paul's
boxer shorts from his hips, closed a powerful hand around his
cock.

Paul's head fell back, and his breath came in unsteady

gasps as he tried to cope with the fear and arousal lighting
his body.

Pre-cum already leaked from the head of his cock, wetting

Kian's hand and smoothing his strokes. The incubus nuzzled
his cheek, murmuring soft words in a variety of languages.

Although Paul only understood a fraction of those lyrical

sentences, the fear began to seep from his body. He gripped
Kian's shoulders and pumped his hips into the fist holding his
dick, needing to experience more of this fire.

Kian squeezed and tugged, encouraging him to pump

harder. His balls churned, his muscles tightened.

Ready ... so ready...
The hand pulled away.

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Paul's eyes widened as an inarticulate whimper shuddered

out of him.

"Shh. I'll not deny you the rapture I promised." Kian lifted

his hand to his own mouth, licked the pre-cum from his palm.
"Every part of you is sweet, isn't it?" He dragged his tongue
up Paul's chest. "I'm about to gorge myself on you."

Pieces of what little incubus legend he knew flickered

through his mind. "Y-You're feeding on me right now? You're
stealing my breath?"

"Yes, I'm feeding on you." He ran his hands over Paul's

waist and stomach, making all the muscles in his torso
clench. Kian leaned closer, and his lips parted as he inhaled.
"But if you're feeling breathless, that just means you're
having a good time."

Now he really did feel like a virgin, needing to be told

these things. His body was flooded with sensations he'd never
experienced—he had no idea the simple act of touching could
be this way. It made him ask a question he'd never asked a
lover before. "Are you ... Are you having a good time?"

"Oh yes." Kian's heavy-lidded gaze met his. "On levels I

cannot possibly explain."

The answer ... It made him feel...
What was this?
Tentatively, he cupped Kian's face in his hands and

lowered his head.

Kian licked Paul's lips just before accepting his mouth. The

other man's tongue taught and teased, welcoming him.
Smooth, hot, breathtaking. Paul couldn't imagine anything
better than this.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Kian's fingers danced along his shoulders, down his arms.

They slid to his chest, tweaked his nipples.

His legs gave out.
Chuckling, Kian caught him around the waist, returned him

to his feet. "So much passion. How does one live for twenty
years without bathing in it?"

"Twenty-seven," corrected Paul, frowning as he grew

defensive.

Kian paused, then broke into a grin. "Forgive me." He took

Paul's hand and led him up the stairs. "I tend to think all
humans are young."

Being able to coordinate the movements of his body while

Kian touched him proved harder than he'd expected, and Paul
stumbled.

Kian turned his head, his eyebrow cocked. "Do you wish

me to carry you?"

He could feel his entire body blushing red. "No."
"Very well," he said, continuing his ascent.
Paul grabbed hold of the railing to make sure he didn't

embarrass himself again.

Kian pulled him straight into the bedroom, released his

hand to remove his own suit jacket.

The break in contact allowed his head to clear a bit, and

his analytical mind was able to assert itself. "How did you
know where to go?"

That playful, wicked grin shaped his mouth as he

unbuttoned his shirt. "You should close your drapes at night."

Paul glanced at his balcony, then back at Kian. "You watch

me? While I sleep?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"Are you angry with me, Paul?" He slipped out of his shirt

and dropped it to the floor. "Do you want me to leave?"

His gaze traveled over Kian's naked torso. A hard, sharply

defined chest tapered down to tight abdominal muscles. His
shoulders radiated barely restrained power, and his arms
were unexpectedly thick.

"No," said Paul, his voice soft. "Please don't leave."

Although Kian's hands weren't on him, he still felt hot. He still
... needed this.

"Do you want to touch me?"
"Yes."
Kian spread his hands. "Then what is stopping you?"
His breath shallowed as he walked forward. He touched

Kian's wrists, glided his hands up warm skin, strong arms.

Kian began to purr, and this time it didn't jar him so much.
His fingers hit a patch of roughened skin and he paused.

Lowering his head, Paul touched his lips to the scars around
Kian's neck, his biceps, his chest.

"Paul," Kian's fingers trailed along his cheek, drawing his

gaze upward, "what are you doing?"

The fire that sparked from this touch was gentler, lazing

through Paul's body as he stared directly into bronze eyes. "I
just ... You healed me so easily. Why can't you heal
yourself?"

Kian slid his hand around Paul's waist, drew him flush

against his body. "Don't trouble yourself about that." He
inhaled deeply. "Just bask in our pleasure."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Having their bodies pressed together made it easy to do

just that. Kian's hands slipped up to his shoulders, guided him
to sit on the bed.

Paul spread his thighs and grabbed Kian's waist, pulling

him close.

Soft laughter floated through the room as the incubus

stroked his hair. "Very good. Just like that."

He lifted his head, dazed and about to overheat. "A-Are

you going to make me scream?"

Kian raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps."
More tremors shook his body.
"You really are innocent, aren't you?" Kian glided his

fingers along his jaw. "Should I make you scream, I assure
you that you'll find it most enjoyable."

Paul hesitated, then unfastened the catch in the other

man's slacks, let them drop to the floor.

He wasn't wearing any underwear, and Paul's eyes

rounded. Kian's dick was ... was huge. Long, as well as thick.
Veins pulsed just beneath the skin, and the head flared wide,
eager.

Too wide. Too eager.
"This isn't going to work," he said, even as his fingers

caressed the length of him, even as his mouth kissed the
bobbing head.

"Shh." Kian pressed him back onto the mattress and

crawled on top of him. "Fear not. I am an incubus, after all."
He hooked his arm under Paul's body, slid him farther up the
bed. "We will fit, and you will love it."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

His breath hitched when Kian bit his nipple, and his eyes

drifted closed when that hot mouth sucked away the sting.

Graceful fingers brushed over his fevered skin. "You enjoy

this gentle touch, don't you, Paul? I'll always caress you just
this way." Kian nuzzled the curve of his neck. "Unless, of
course, you beg me to do otherwise."

Paul clutched at him, dragged him closer.
The incubus licked his cheek. "Say you want me. I ache to

hear the words."

"I..." Pleasure racked his body when Kian rubbed against

him, when their cocks slid against each other. "I want you."

"Ah, yes." His lips parted as his hard body continued to

move against him. Their cocks dripped with ecstasy, slicking
their torsos. "Your desire is exquisite."

Lightning shot through him, and Paul writhed, trying to get

closer, trying to quench this heat inside of him. "Please ...
Now ... I can't..." He tightened his arms around Kian. "I'm
burning up."

Kian took his mouth in a hard, deep kiss before smiling

against his lips. "Those words are even better."

Paul grabbed his ass, no longer caring if Kian split him in

two. He wanted it. He needed it.

Holding himself immobile above Paul, Kian slipped his

middle finger into his own mouth. Paul watched, transfixed,
as the incubus sucked on himself. The simple, mesmerizing
act spoke volumes; heightening anticipation, summoning an
acute desire to see just how skilled those lips might be.

Bronze eyes shimmering, Kian slid his wet finger down the

center of Paul's body, along his cock, down to his hole.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Waiting was torture, adding even more fuel to the flames
engulfing him.

Finally, Kian eased inside, stretching him with one finger,

then two. "You're so tight," he murmured. His gentle fingers
pushed in and out of him, stealing Paul's breath and giving it
back. "Your body clings to me as if I'm the only thing that can
bring it satisfaction." He lowered his head. "Perhaps I am."

At the moment, Paul had no trouble believing that.
Kian removed his fingers and ran his hands over Paul's

thighs.

Paul lifted his legs, hooked them over Kian's shoulders.
Purring, the incubus turned his head, kissed one of his

knees. "A virgin who is not a virgin certainly has its
advantages."

Unable to articulate his urgency, Paul moaned.
Kian understood, pressed the head of his cock to his

pucker.

His moan was cut short as Kian pushed himself in. Paul

reached back, gripped his headboard as the other man's dick
stretched his hole.

Even after experiencing the fiery touch of his hands, Paul

was unprepared for the blaze that roared through him at
penetration. It sluiced through his veins, and every cell in his
body pulsed with the growing heat. Kian just kept going
deeper and deeper, a slow build to the coming explosion.

He cried out when Kian's hips bumped against him, when

his balls slapped his ass.

It felt so fucking good.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Kian pumped him in long, slow strokes. While Paul gasped

for air, his pace remained relaxed, unhurried. The only
indication that he felt the same intensity were his parted lips,
his shimmering eyes.

And that low, sexy purr.
Beads of sweat formed on Paul's skin, rolled down his

body. He used his leverage to match Kian's rhythm, and his
muscles burned with the effort.

Kian licked his lips as he thrust harder. His hands

tightened on Paul's thighs, and his pace went from languid to
ferocious in one white-hot flash.

Paul couldn't match it. He could only take it.
One of Kian's hands swept down his thigh to close around

his cock. It was barely a touch, but it made his balls draw
tight and his back arch.

It made him scream.
Tongues of fire swirled around them, licking at his body,

consuming him. It brightened into incandescence and turned
his vision into white. An explosion burst from his body, one
that purified and fulfilled.

Rapture.
His legs slipped from Kian's shoulders, and Kian fell on top

of him. Hot. Heavy. Quaking with the force of his own
orgasm.

Paul held him close, stroked his back. A faint sheen of

perspiration covered the other man's body, and it felt warm
and slick against his palms.

"Paul, you're so..." The incubus kissed his cheek, over and

over. "...good."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

He tried to respond, but found that his throat was too raw

to speak.

Kian inhaled deeply, breathed warm air over his throat.
The soreness faded, and he swallowed. "Th-Thank you."
Murmuring in that strange mix of languages, Kian trailed

soft kisses down his neck.

"I can't understand you," whispered Paul.
"I'm filled to the brim with satisfaction." He threaded his

fingers through Paul's hair. "That's rare for an incubus. I don't
remember the last time it's happened to me."

After sex, Paul didn't usually have much interest in his

lovers. But now he reached up, traced Kian's enthralling
features. "Your eyes shimmer."

He smiled. "When my passion spirals high."
"You purr."
"When the pleasure burns hot enough."
"You spent four years searching for me."
Gentle teeth nipped at Paul's lips. "Yes."
"Was it worth it?"
Kian laid his head on Paul's chest. "It was glorious."
"Glorious," murmured Paul. "That's a good word. I think

it's what I'm feeling right now."

Chuckling, Kian nestled closer, fitting their bodies together.

"You wear an after-glow well. It does much to extend my
enjoyment."

A frown touched Paul's brow. "I don't know what that

means."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"It means sex has made you warm, and soft, and open. I

like this side of you. I like that I was the one who brought it
out."

Paul barely recognized himself, but he didn't mind. For

now, he just wanted the other man's enjoyment to last as
long as possible. "Kian? Is there ... Is there something I
should do? Or say?"

Kian's hand slid up his chest, rested over his heart. "Your

eyelids are growing heavy, are they not?"

"Yes, but..."
"Then sleep. That is what you should do."
As if obeying his command, Paul's eyes drifted closed. "Are

you sure?"

Kian kissed his skin. "Every part of you really is sweet."
He wasn't used to being called 'sweet.' Cold, often.

Ruthless, sometimes. Sweet ... never. He began to formulate
his argument, to explain it all to Kian, but sleep was already
dragging him away. Paul knew that speaking coherently
would be impossible.

Besides, he didn't really want to change Kian's mind.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chapter Five

Even in those cold, dark corners hidden in dreams,

this fire will burn forever.

Paul bolted upright in bed, his chest heaving. He curled

forward, scrubbed at his face with his hands.

That dream...
He hadn't had one like it in years. A woman's voice,

reciting the one riddle he'd never been able to solve. In his
waking hours, he'd scoured libraries, the internet, books from
his childhood. He'd never been able to find the answer. And
he needed the answer.

Because it was his mother's voice.
"Bad dream?"
His head shot up, and his eyes rounded when he saw the

man sitting naked in a chair beside his bed, holding a ceramic
mug as he hugged his knees to his chest. "Wh-Who..."

The man smiled. "Kian."
The word sent sparks of heat flying through his body, and

Paul's mind flooded with memories of fiery caresses.

... this fire will burn forever.

Everything blurred together, and he squeezed his eyes

shut in a futile effort to clear his head. "But you don't look
like..."

"I know. I did say I would gorge myself on you, Paul."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Lifting his head, he took a second look.
Kian's eyes. Kian's smile. But his shoulders were broader,

more rounded. His arms were swollen thicker with muscle,
and so were his legs. Because of the way he sat, Paul couldn't
see all of his body. He had no doubt, though, that the rest of
him was proportionately bigger.

"Why ... How did that happen to you?" he asked, trying to

ignore the scent of sex hanging in the air.

Kian's feet slid to the floor, revealing wide, solid pecs and

deeply carved abs. "I absorbed a great deal of energy last
night. As you can see, I am quite ... filled."

He wasn't sure he liked the change. It felt like he had a

stranger in his bedroom.

Not that he'd known Kian all that well before.
"How long will this last?"
The blunt question seemed to surprise the other man. "A

year, maybe more. It depends on how much I feed in the
future."

Frowning, Paul rubbed at his chest. He'd let some ... thing

feed on him. Now that the fire from last night had died, he
had the common sense to be disturbed by the concept.

"How are you feeling, Paul? Drained?"
He shook his head. "No. I feel fine."
Kian grinned broadly and held the mug out to him. "I

made coffee."

His gaze dipped to the white cup. "For me?"
With smooth, feline grace, the incubus rose to his feet and

climbed onto the bed. "Especially for you."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Paul fell back on his hands, eased himself away. He didn't

want to experience that touch again, not so soon.

Undaunted, Kian crawled forward, cup still in hand. When

Paul hit the edge of the bed, he had no choice but to stop
moving. He stared up at Kian's big, naked body, and noticed
another difference.

"What happened to your scars?" he asked softly.
He glanced briefly at himself. "They've healed. You've

healed me, Paul."

But ... he hadn't done anything. "How?"
His eyes shimmered. "The chains that held me prisoner

were enchanted, and the scars they carved into my skin had a
more lasting effect than would have been sustained from a
normal injury. I'd have healed over time, with enough
feedings, but you are..." His full lips curved upward. "...so
potent. Your desire has done wondrous things to my body."

Paul didn't know how to respond to that. Right now, he felt

awkward and a little scared, so he focused on preventing any
further physical contact.

Kian pressed the mug into his hand and sat at his side.

"Drink."

No one had ever made him coffee in the morning before.

Paul curled his fingers around the cup, took a careful sip.

And barely restrained himself from spitting it back into the

mug.

"Well?" asked Kian, his face bright and eager. "Do you like

it?"

Swallowing, Paul forced a smile. "It's sweet. What's in it?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"Cream, sugar." He edged closer. "I put a dollop of ice-

cream in the bottom before pouring the coffee over it."

"Ice-cream?" Paul turned his head. "I don't have ice-cream

in my freezer."

"You certainly do not," said Kian, confusion shaping his

features. "Do you not like sweet things?"

He stared down at his coffee, filled with so much cream

that it was almost white. "No, I guess I don't. Not since ...
Not for a very long time."

"How do you take your coffee, then?"
"Black, usually." Trying not to imagine where he'd gotten

the ice-cream, Paul raised the mug to his lips, took another
small sip.

Kian shook his head, causing some of his copper locks to

fall forward and frame his face. "If you do not like it, why do
you continue to drink it?"

Paul couldn't meet his gaze. "Because you made it for me.

It seems like the right thing to do."

Chuckling, he took the mug from his hand, placed it on the

night-stand. "So strange, that the sweet man does not like
sweet drinks." Kian brought his face close. "Your peculiarities
are bewitching."

Realizing a kiss was coming, Paul scrambled backward,

forgetting that he was already at the edge of the mattress.

Kian caught him before he hit the floor, brought him back

to the bed. "I've got you."

Having those strong arms around him made Paul suck in

his breath.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"Skittish," murmured Kian, nuzzling his neck. "I'll ignite

your fire, and you'll lose your inhibitions once more."

His cock jumped, and he grabbed Kian's shoulders to push

him away. The new size and hardness of his body shocked
him, and his shove didn't have nearly the strength it needed.
"No..."

Kian touched the tip of his nose to Paul's. "No?"
His eyes drifted closed. "Please."
A purr rumbled out of the incubus just as lips grazed

mouth. "That's better."

Paul tried to put more resolve into his voice. "No."
"No again?" Kian pulled away and sat on his heels.
He shivered against the sudden cold, ignored it. "I can't do

this."

Warmth returned in the form of a far too intimate hand

trailing over his thigh. "You can. You proved it last night."

Every touch, every brush of his fingers, brought heat and

need. Paul had to think of a way to get this ... this creature
out of his house before his life was turned upside down
forever. But as he looked into Kian's face, he found he still
didn't want to hurt him, still didn't want to extinguish the fire
that seemed to burn just for him. "I have work."

An easy smile shaped Kian's lips. "Work?" He slid off the

bed. "You should have said something earlier."

Paul watched him, cautious. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." He ran his fingers through his copper hair;

it caught the light as it fell forward to frame his face again.
"Walk me out?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"Oh, sure." Paul jumped up, grabbed a pair of silk pants

from the bottom drawer of his dresser. "Let me put
something on."

His gaze slid over Paul's nude body. "If you must."
Paul turned away, tugged on his pants. Not wanting to

encourage the incubus, he pulled the drawstring tight to
make sure they didn't ride low on his hips the way they
usually did.

A pair of soft, warm lips pressed against the nape of his

neck.

He spun, his eyes rounding when he saw Kian already

dressed. "How did you dress so quickly? How do your clothes
even fit?"

Kian slid his fingers down a perfectly knotted tie. "My

clothing is an illusion, so it always appears to fit."

"An illusion?" He reached out, touched the lapel of his suit

jacket. "It feels so real."

"It's a very good illusion."
Paul let his hand fall away. This magic thing ... even after

all he'd seen, he wasn't sure he could accept it.

Kian slipped his fingers into the waistband of Paul's pants

and dragged him forward against his body. "Paul."

Heat flashed through him at the contact, and he realized

with a start that Kian was not only bigger now, he was taller
by several inches. "Y-Yes?"

Lowering his head, Kian spoke into his ear. "I want you to

remember one reality."

Unable to help himself, Paul pressed closer, his breath

catching at the hard contours of Kian's body. "What reality?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

A hot tongue darted out to tease his ear. "That I'm always

naked. No matter where I am. No matter what you see me
wearing. Always."

Paul groaned, lifted his hands to cling to him.
Husky chuckles filled the air as Kian's fingers slid down his

arm, took his hand. He led Paul out of the bedroom, down the
stairs. Without letting go, he opened the front door and pulled
him close. "I loathe to be parted from you. There are so many
pleasures I have left to grant."

Any more pleasure, and he'd burst into flame. "I-I can't. I

have..."

"Work, I know. And that's important." He pushed Paul back

against the doorjamb, ran his tongue up the tense cord of
muscle along his neck. "I wish to return. Tonight."

"T-Tonight?" No, he couldn't burn another night with his

sanity intact. Even fully clothed, it felt as if Kian was inside
him, stoking his arousal, licking at his secrets. He didn't want
it. It scared him. "I don't think that's a good..."

Kian kissed his cheek, rubbed their bodies together.
Paul gasped, then sighed. "Nine o'clock."
Those lips brushed over Paul's in a feather light promise of

what would come. "I will not be late."

His body started. What did he just do?
Kian smiled against his mouth before straightening. "I look

forward to it," he crooned, closing the door behind him.

Sinking to the floor, Paul ran a shaking hand through his

hair as he discovered another reality.

Kian wasn't going anywhere.

* * * *

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chuckling, Kian slipped his hands into his pockets as he

walked down the steps leading to Paul's home. The poor
human, newly awakened to his own passion, was spinning in
a storm of chaos. A magnificent chaos.

Soon, Paul would learn to crave the touch of an incubus.

To beg for it.

That, too, will be magnificent.
"Did you have a good time?"
Kian glanced up. In the dawning light of morning, he saw a

man standing on the other side of the street. Not just a man.
Something more.

Cautiously, he crossed the street. "You're the wizard I

glimpsed at the party last night."

Unimpressed, the man leaned back against a street-lamp,

his arms folded over his chest. "You didn't answer my
question."

There was a time when Kian enjoyed wizards—their wild

magic, their lust for life. But that was before the lust of one
had chained him to a basement floor. "I am under no
obligation to answer you."

His mouth crooked.
Kian frowned. "Who are you? What do you care what I

do?"

"I'm Asher Croft, and this is my city. It's my job to know

what goes on in it."

Croft. Kian instinctively took a step back. "Of the Croft

Legacy?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

His crooked mouth pulled into a full grin. "The one and

only heir."

This man—this child—was heir to the Croft Legacy? "What

level wizard are you?"

"Warrior Class."
Impossible. No one could achieve Warrior Class at so

young an age. Needing proof, Kian flung an intense burst of
magic at the wizard. A fireball of desire that would drop any
being to his knees.

The air before Asher flickered green, and he remained on

his feet, untouched.

"A shield," said Kian, his voice soft.
"Yeah, I probably should have mentioned that I'll make

Master in the next few months."

Shock made him fall still. "There are only a hundred

Master Class wizards in the world. And one of them is
Jonathan Croft."

"My father."
Kian banished his stunned emotions, determined not to

show weakness. "You're Jonathan's son?" He'd met the man,
years ago. A powerful, controlled wizard.

"Yep, and do you know what they say about me?" He

straightened away from the street-lamp as his arms fell to his
sides. His long, black overcoat fell open, revealing a t-shirt
and jeans. "They say I'm the most gifted wizard to be born in
a thousand years. You're about that old, aren't you? Maybe
you can verify that for me?"

"I've been," Kian took another step back, "out of

circulation in recent years."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

The wizard nodded. "I heard about what Richard Davis did

to you. And about what you did to him."

Remembering that vile man's touch made Kian clench his

fists. "You cannot punish me for that. He deserved it all."

Asher's expression gentled. "Can't argue with you there. If

it had happened in my city, I would've let you kill him."

Kian stared at the young wizard in confusion. "You're not

here to punish me, then?"

"For putting that sonovabitch in his place? Nah." He walked

past Kian to look at Paul's house. "You went after Paul
Graham with a single mindedness uncharacteristic of incubi,
though, and that's why I'm here."

"I broke no laws."
"Not yet." Asher turned, and his sharp, emerald eyes slid

over Kian's body. "But you've obviously devoured an
overabundance of his energy. You could have killed him."

"I would not!" shouted Kian, surprising himself.
Asher lifted his eyebrows. "I guess that answers that. But

it brings up more questions."

Steadying himself, Kian leveled the wizard's gaze. "What

questions?"

"Why Paul, for one."
He looked away. "That is none of your business."
Asher ducked his head and caught his gaze, his bright eyes

piercing. "You're grateful to him for something. Something
big." He was quiet for a moment, studying Kian. "Let's see.
What could a corporate lawyer do for an incubus to earn this
much passion?" He straightened. "Or maybe it wasn't his legal
expertise at all. Maybe it was his dream walking?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Kian's heart jumped.
Asher grinned. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

Paul's not an ordinary dream walker. He gets inside, finds
that one thing you need more than anything, and gives it to
you."

"A cipher," murmured Kian, staring at the curb.
"Yes. So what did he get for you?" Asher's lips parted as

he made a sound of understanding. "Oh, freedom. That's it,
isn't it? He broke Davis's spell on you."

He couldn't answer. How did Asher know these things?

After only speaking to him a few moments?

"Well, you've repaid your debt to him. Be sure to keep

your distance from now on, got it?"

His head shot up. "What? No!"
"Yes." Asher leaned forward. "Davis isn't the only one who

knows how to trap an incubus. And trust me, I've got a few
tricks no one's ever imagined."

He couldn't take on a Croft. This was their city, and their

rules had to be obeyed. But ... But he wanted Paul. So much
so that he would risk defying a Guardian of Magic. "Why can't
I give him the pleasure he deserves? Why is this human
forbidden to me?"

Kian reached out, meaning to grab his coat and plead.
The air flickered green again, and Kian was thrown back,

his palms stinging.

Asher slid his hands into his pockets. "I don't have to

explain myself to you."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

He took a breath, forced himself to think clearly. The

wizard had been at the party, and now seemed overly
protective of one human. "A-Are you his friend?"

A soft chuckle escaped him. "Yeah."
Kian thought about Paul's untouched passion. "You wish to

be his lover? Is that why my connection to him angers you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Incubi: it's always about sex with you

guys. You're not the only one he's rescued, you know. And
I'm afraid my need to keep him safe supersedes your lust for
him."

"Paul saved you? In a dream?"
"My biological father locked me in a box when I was

seven." Asher's tone was easy, conversational. "He was trying
to exorcise a demon from me. Paul's the one who let me out."

Biological father? "You are not a Croft by blood?"
"No, the Crofts adopted me after social services took me

away." His eyes sharpened; dangerous, playful. "Squash that
urge to rebel against me, incubus. I assure you, I am every
inch Jonathan's son."

Kian swallowed, quickly learning it was impossible to keep

secrets from this one. He chose his next words carefully.
"Does Paul remember rescuing you?"

Asher shook his head. "He used to come and play with me

a lot. Then, when we were nine, he just ... stopped." The
playfulness faded from his expression. "I didn't find out until
years later that his mother died. While he was asleep."

Kian's breath caught.
"Can you imagine? A precocious dream walker—a cipher

driven to solve and save—being dragged into his dying

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

mother's last thoughts? There was no way he could have
saved her." He glanced at Paul's house again. "And afterward,
called to use his gift over and over. I'd forget, too, if I could."

Even with all his years of experience, Kian could not

imagine such a thing. "Is that why..." The question trailed as
he wondered how Asher would react, but he forced himself to
ask it. "Is that why he's so cold?"

Asher's gaze drifted back to him. "I believe so, and I rarely

make mistakes about things like this." His serious expression
cut into Kian. "You're immortal, licentious, and wanton.
Whether you mean to or not, you will hurt Paul, and I can't
have that."

Kian felt his temper spark. "If you are so certain I'll hurt

him, then why allow me to get close to him at all? Why not
ban me from him when you saw me at the party?"

Those intent green eyes never wavered. "Paul hasn't felt

anything real in a long time, and it gets a little worse every
year. I figured he could benefit from your unique ... skills. But
now that he has, there's a possibility that he might fall in love
with you."

The fire always within him blazed to new heights. "Love?"
Asher's head cocked to the side a fraction. "Yes, love. As

his friend, I can't risk you grieving him. As a Guardian of
Magic, I can't allow you to grieve him and thereby destroy his
ability to cipher."

All Guardians were smart, insightful. Their training

demanded it. But this one was too smart, too insightful. How
did he see what was in Paul's heart? How did he know Kian's
desires?

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by Rowan McBride

Moving slowly, Kian pressed his thumbnail to his own

forearm, sliced open the skin.

A barely perceptible wince flickered over Asher's features.
But the wizard had given away too much—Kian had his

answer. "You're an empath."

Asher didn't seem impressed with his deduction. "And?"
He'd never seen an adult empath outside of an asylum.

Most never even made it that far. Knowing he had the
advantage now, Kian approached, deepening the cut in his
forearm. "How do you expect to wage any kind of battle when
you feel the emotions of your enemies?"

The wizard threw out his hands, and a wave of emerald

magic whipped out, coiled around him. He slammed Kian into
the ground and crouched beside him. "You have greatly
underestimated my strength. And if Paul's heart is broken in
the course of your game, I will make what Davis did to you
feel like a fucking carriage ride in the park. Do you get me,
incubus?"

Kian struggled against the restraints, panicking when he

found it useless. Flashes of rough iron scraping his skin
accosted him. "He wants me! It's his choice!"

"Wants you, does he?" Asher lowered his head. "So why

aren't you with him now?"

He fell still. "H-He must go to work."
His mouth crooked. "Even Paul takes Sunday off when he

can."

Kian's fire waned. Sunday. He'd forgotten it was Sunday.
Asher waved a hand, and the restraints vanished. "Stay

away from him. That's a direct order from New York's

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Guardian of Magic." He rose to his feet, walked away. "I know
the rules are somewhat lax in a lot of cities, but the Crofts
rule this one, and we take our duties seriously."

The cold of the asphalt beneath him seeped into his body.

Shaking, Kian sat up and watched the wizard leave.

No creature could disobey a Croft. Though mortal, their

powers were legendary. Even so, Kian would have tried...

Had Paul not made it abundantly clear that he was not

wanted.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chapter Six

"Kid? Are you hearing me?"
Paul glanced up from his notes. "I apologize, Mr. Kite.

What were you saying?"

Martin shook his head. "What's with you, kid? You've been

distracted all morning. Usually I'm the one who needs to be
pulled back on track."

That was true. What was wrong with him?
Kian. He never showed up. Paul had waited all night.
But that shouldn't matter. He'd never been one to let

personal issues interfere with his work life. Besides, he'd
wanted Kian to stay away.

Hadn't he?
"Paul..." Martin leaned forward and rested his elbows on

the desk between them. "Are you okay?"

He couldn't talk about this, not with a client. He didn't

even understand what was going on. And Martin deserved the
best representation possible, not a preoccupied lawyer. "Mr.
Kite, maybe we should..."

Stephen Riker knocked on the door. "Hey, Paul. Your

secretary told me you were looking a little tired today, and I
thought I'd extend the same offer you extended to me the
other night. Need help lightening your load?"

Paul lifted his head, his face expressionless. "No, thanks.

I've got everything well in hand."

Riker flashed his million-dollar smile at Martin. "What

about you, Mr. Kite? Paul taking good care of you?"

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His voice was calm, cool. "Excellent care."
Riker winked at him. "Well, if there's ever anything I can

do for you, let me know."

"Thanks, but I don't think that'll be necessary."
Shooting a sly glance at Paul, Riker left the office, closing

the door behind him.

Martin turned in his chair. "I don't like that one."
Paul reviewed his notes. "Stephen Riker is a more than

capable attorney, sir."

"If you say so, it must be true. But something about him

... I guess he's too slick for me."

Too slick? Most people who came in contact with Riker

adored him on sight. He was the quintessential rainmaker.
"He did have a point." Paul linked his hands together.
"Perhaps I should get someone else to handle this acquisition
for you. If you're uncomfortable with Stephen Riker, then I
can give your case to Asher Croft."

Martin frowned. "No."
Surprised, Paul straightened. "Mr. Kite, this is a delicate

case. You need someone who can focus on it."

"So focus already."
His confusion must have been obvious, because the big

man broke into a grin.

"Kid, you're the only one I trust with my company. Haven't

you figured that out by now?"

No, he hadn't. But Martin's faith ... it touched him. In a

way it never had before. Something was changing. He was
changing. And he had no time to think about it.

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"Alright, Mr. Kite. Let's take this step by step, from the

beginning."

Martin slapped his hand on the desk. "That's my boy!"
Paul took a slow breath, smothered his heated memories

of Kian, and got to work.

* * * *

Kian sat atop the Brooklyn Tower, did not turn his eyes

from the Manhattan skyline when Zakai landed gracefully
beside him.

"There you are. I've been scouring the city looking for

you." Zakai crouched, tried to catch his gaze. "I should have
known you would be here. This bridge has been your favorite
place in New York for over a century."

"I enjoy the view."
"You always did have a thing for pretty lights." Zakai leapt

to balance on one of the bridge's cables. "I see you've finally
had your human." He looked him over. "You've had him a
lot."

Kian rested his chin on his knees. "Why were you

searching for me?"

"Richard Davis."
"What about him?"
"He's in town."
"So? He no longer possesses the strength to do anything

significant."

"Kian," he walked up the cable, back to the tower, "that

man is a cagey one. After what you did to him, you should
have a care."

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His fists clenched. "Why does everyone keep harping on

what I did to him? I merely took back what was mine. His
own sloppy spell caused a magical backlash and did the rest."

"You should have killed him."
"So I've been told." He forced his hands to loosen. "I could

not, so soon after being saved. I could not bring myself to
taint Paul's kindness, and so I granted Richard the mercy of
life. Why does no one appreciate that?"

His friend smirked down at him. "Let's not forget you also

tied him to a wall and taught him the sharper points of BDSM.
Granted, it was only for three weeks—hardly an equivalent
retribution—but you have a touch about you when you're
angry that stays with a person." He sobered, crossed his arms
over his chest. "Who else has been speaking to you about
that dung-heap of a man?"

One lone human had sent him into hiding. How had he

gotten himself into this mess? "Zakai..." He finally looked up.
"I've drawn the attention of a far more powerful wizard."

He frowned. "Who?"
"This city's Guardian of Magic."
"Jonathan Croft?"
Kian shook his head. "His son. Asher."
Zakai sat beside him, let his legs hang off the edge of the

tower. "I had heard he'd chosen an heir, but Jonathan is still
the Guardian of New York."

"The heir speaks with the Guardian's authority." Kian

stared at the skyline again. "They are one and the same."

"I suppose. What happened?"
"He has banned me from seeing Paul."

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"Why?"
Kian blinked back hot tears. "He believes that I'll hurt

him." His hands gripped the edge of the stone tower. "Just
because I overfed a bit. But Paul was not drained—he
appeared rested and needful in the morning. There was none
of the exhaustion that often occurs after spending a night
with an incubus."

"He spent an entire night with you and wasn't tired

afterward?" asked Zakai, clearly impressed.

"Yes, and I didn't take anything that was not given to me

freely." He leaned forward as his fingers cracked the stone
beneath them. "And Paul had so much to give. It was limitless
and calescent and indescribably pure. He offered it to me.
How could I not accept?"

"Kian..."
His breath grew harsh as he crushed more of the stone.

"He sated me! His fire fuels my own, fills my body. He can be
cold, but when I touch him he is sweet and warm and full of
surprises. What is the harm in that? What is the danger in
bringing a man's passion to the surface? In bringing him to
life?"

Zakai's voice went soft. "You are behaving very unlike an

incubus."

His head shot up. "That is what the wizard said! It's in our

nature to give pleasure, is it not? I was not done pleasuring
Paul."

Zakai laid a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, alright. Tell me

everything that transpired."

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by Rowan McBride

Every detail of their joining and Kian's subsequent

confrontation with the wizard poured out of him. This anguish
had been bottled inside of him for days, and his sense of loss
sharpened with each word uttered.

His last statement was very nearly a wail. "And he does

not want me! I can set his body afire, and yet he sought to
separate himself from me!"

A gentle smile shaped Zakai's mouth. "Don't be silly. Of

course he wants you."

Kian stopped short. "But Asher Croft said..."
"You and I both know how cunning wizards can be. It's

obvious that he tricked you."

"How..." In his mind, Kian replayed the events of that

night yet again. "How is it obvious?"

Zakai tucked a lock of Kian's hair behind his ear. "He said

that your human might fall in love with you, yes?"

"Yes."
"How can there be love without wanting?"
His lips parted as a spark of hope lit within him. "I hadn't

thought of that."

Zakai chuckled. "I gathered."
Yet the heartening words could not quell his doubt. "P-Paul

sent me away."

"But he invited you back, didn't he?"
The spark brightened. "He did."
Zakai laid back on the cool stone. "Then finish pleasuring

him."

"I cannot. The Guardian ordered me to keep my distance."
"Hmm, that does seem to be a problem."

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Zakai was a master in the art of pursuing pleasure. Kian

knew the other incubus only waited to be beseeched for his
wisdom, so he stretched out on the stone beneath them and
asked for the advice he so desperately needed. "What should
I do?"

Exhaling a heavy breath, Zakai thought it over. "This

Asher, you said he isn't a Croft by blood?"

"He was adopted."
"What was your impression of him? Did he behave as a

Croft? All autocratic and secure in his own power?"

"Yes," he whispered.
"Then he cannot ban you from seeing your human, not if

Paul wants you. The Crofts are ruthless, but the great thing
about them is that they adhere to their own laws. So, as long
as you adhere as well, I doubt he will punish you."

Kian thought about how easily Asher had thrown him to

the ground. "What if he does?"

"Then we'll stand against him together. Petition his father.

Perhaps call for our king to speak on our behalf. Those
possessed of the Croft bloodline have always been fair." His
voice hardened with determination. "If that doesn't work,
then we fight."

"Fight?" Kian knew such an endeavor against this Legacy

was futile. He knew how to turn pleasure into pain, and Zakai
was skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but even together they
would not be much of a match for an entire family of powerful
wizards.

Zakai stared up at the night sky. "I was not by your side

when Richard Davis snatched you. I'll not make that mistake

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again. This time, I will protect you. No matter the cost." He
sighed. "Although it seems rather feckless to go to such
lengths for a human."

"Paul is no ordinary human." He laid his hand atop Zakai's

chest. "I've never wanted someone this much."

"I know. After what you've been through, you more than

deserve to have your fill of him." He turned his head. "Is he
really so good? What does he taste like?"

A blissful smile touched his lips. "I've been trying to place

it, but I cannot."

"Intriguing, considering how long you've lived." His entire

mood lightened. "Perhaps I can have a sample?"

Kian leaned forward, let a breath of Paul's energy flow out

of his mouth. Zakai inhaled as he savored the taste.

"Extraordinary."
"I told you, did I not?"
A faint purr rumbled out of Zakai's chest. "Delicate, sweet,

lingers on your tongue. There's a strength there, as well. Very
much like dewberries."

"Yes," said Kian, after considering it a moment, "that

sounds close."

Zakai's voice turned teasing. "A difficult fruit to pick."
He grinned. "But well worth the effort."
Laughing, Zakai drew him into his embrace. "Now you are

behaving like an incubus."

Kian nestled against him, glad to feel his fire burning once

more.

Soon, Paul would feel it too.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chapter Seven

Kian caressed the engraved nameplate over Paul's

doorbell. Anticipation sizzled along his nerves as he pressed
the button.

Already he wanted to purr.
The door swung open and there stood Paul, dressed in a

perfectly pressed white shirt and black slacks. "Kian."

There was no smile on his face, no surprise, no expression,

whatsoever. Suddenly unsure of himself, Kian took a step
back. "Hello, Paul."

His gaze dipped to the hollow of Kian's throat. "You're

alright?"

Even in that long ago dream, Paul's voice had not been

this cool. "I'm fine."

He didn't look away from that spot above Kian's collar.

"Glad to hear it." He began to close the door.

"Wait!" Kian reached out.
Paul jerked away from his touch. "What do you want?"
His instinct was to grab the man who had frosted over

since their night together. But he had to play by the rules, or
the consequences could be dire.

So, no using his powers to coerce the human.
"Paul," he touched his own neck, "why do you look only

here?"

His eyes narrowed and he glanced away. "I was checking

for scars."

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"Scars?" Kian stepped to the side, but Paul would not look

upon him. "Why were you checking for scars?"

His hand tightened on the doorknob until his fingers turned

white. "You were supposed to be here at nine o'clock. You
said you wouldn't be late."

Usually, Kian was very good at reading people. But he had

no idea what emotion was coursing through the human right
now. "Yes."

"That was a week and a half ago. It's two hundred and

forty-one hours past nine o'clock."

He'd ... He'd counted the hours of his absence? "Y-Yes."
Tilting his head back, Paul looked directly into his eyes for

the first time. "I thought something might have happened to
you. I thought someone might have chained you down again."

Confusion melted into something softer. "You were worried

about me." Kian lifted his hands to touch the sweet man's
face.

Paul spun away from his fingers, colliding with an iron

railing that separated his stoop from the neighboring one.
"Don't touch me."

Kian paused, then smiled as he reached for him again.

"But..."

"I said don't!"
He jumped, let his hands fall to his sides. "I was

mistaken?"

Paul raked his fingers through his hair, disrupting the

perfect sable locks so that they fell over his forehead. "No,
you're not mistaken. But ... I don't know how a normal
person worries. I didn't know where you were. I had no way

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to contact you." He straightened away from the railing. "I'm a
top attorney at a multinational law firm, and I couldn't find
you. I shouldn't have ... God ... I shouldn't have utilized the
firm's resources the way I did, but I couldn't help myself."

Despite Paul's obvious distress, Kian could not banish his

smile. "You searched for me?"

"That's not the point."
"It's not?"
Paul scrubbed his hand over his face. "I think about you all

the time, and that's never happened to me before. I don't
know how to handle it."

Kian eased closer. "Let me touch you."
His body started. "No."
"No?" He lowered his head, stopped just short of kissing

him. "Why not?"

"Because I can't think when you touch me!"
Fire ignited in Kian's eyes—they were shimmering. "Is that

so bad, Paul?"

Paul froze, as if he hadn't expected to be asked such a

question. "I..."

"Let me pleasure you."
Leaning backward, Paul nearly tipped himself over the

railing. "Why didn't you return that night?"

Kian grasped the railing on each side of the human,

trapping him in place. He was careful to keep their bodies
from touching, aware that someone might be watching them.
"Because you said you were going to work, and that wasn't
true. So I believed you did not want me."

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"Oh." Regret shaped his features. "I-I'm sorry. Everything

was going so fast, and..."

"I understand," he said, breathing warm air over his lips.

"Do you want me now?"

He hesitated, and Kian forced himself to be patient.
Tentatively, Paul leaned forward. His sapphire eyes caught

the moonlight, and in them Kian saw the precise moment of
his surrender. "I want you."

The tension flowed out of him as his fire burned brighter.

Paul had said the words. Asher Croft would have to abide by
his family's own laws and let them be.

Impassioned, he dragged his human into a rough embrace.
Paul groaned.
"I've missed that sound," said Kian, pressing fevered

kisses to his cheek and neck. "It's music to me."

Paul's hands slipped behind him, traveled up his back,

curled over his shoulders. His voice was soft, husky. "Promise
me something?"

"Anything," Kian said recklessly, cupping Paul's firm ass in

his palm. "Anything at all."

"The next time you disappear, let me know beforehand."
His breath caught, and he drew back. "The worrying was

quite unpleasant for you, wasn't it?"

As if memorizing the features, Paul used his fingers to

trace Kian's face. "You can come and go whenever you want.
I'm not trying to tie you down. A man like you ... needs more
than I can give. But I never want to feel the way I've felt this
week. Don't do it to me again."

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by Rowan McBride

Kian glided his knuckles underneath his jaw, gripped his

chin to tilt his head back. "What do you believe I need?"

"Someone who's not stupid enough to send you away, for

one thing."

Incubi were inexperienced with regret. They lived life in

the present, chasing pleasure as they roamed from country to
country. There was almost never a thought to those they left
behind. To see that such an emotion had so powerful a grip
on Paul ... It cracked something within him and unleashed
words he'd never uttered to anyone.

"I'll not leave you." Kian swept him into another tight

embrace, lifting him off his feet. "As long as you want me, I'll
not leave you. I promise."

The bold declaration did not bring forth the delight he'd

expected. Paul's brow furrowed as his body hardened. "No
one can keep that promise. Make the one I asked from you."

Why didn't Paul believe him? He'd said it in earnest. He'd

even derived a strange sort of ecstasy from saying it. More
than willing to declare them again, Kian opened his mouth to
argue. Paul cut him off with a single word.

"Please."
Knowing Paul was not a man who used that word lightly,

Kian lowered him to the ground. "I promise that as well."

A faint smile touched his lips. "Thank you."
More strange declarations began to tumble forth from him.

"I'll give you anything you..."

Paul pushed himself up on his toes, took Kian's mouth.
Those smooth lips—so long missed—kindled his desire

anew. Kian ran his hand along the other man's spine, drawing

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by Rowan McBride

forth a shiver and another delicious moan. Sucking on his
tongue, Kian relived that taste so much like dewberries.

Paul tore his mouth away, gasping for air even as he

trailed scorching kisses down Kian's neck. "You're naked,
right?"

Kian laughed, cupped Paul's face in his hands and tipped

his head back. "You remembered."

The flush in Paul's skin accented the perfect blue of his

eyes. "I still don't understand how that works."

Grinning, Kian pushed the human back into the house,

closed the door behind them, and shed the illusion.

* * * *

Hours later, Kian stood atop the wrought iron railing of

Paul's balcony, closed his eyes as the cool air caressed his
bare skin.

Glorious. Paul was glorious. How could he have stayed

away so long? Never again. He would have his human every
night and every day. Forever.

His eyes fluttered open and his brow furrowed. Humans did

not live forever.

He shook the dark thoughts from his head and smiled. No

matter. Paul belonged to him now, and they would have many
more glorious couplings.

The glass door behind him slid open. "Kian?" Paul's voice

was still groggy from sleep.

Kian looked over his shoulder. Such a beautiful human. His

normally immaculate black hair was mussed from a night of
hard loving. His eyes were a softer shade of blue. He'd tugged

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on a pair of plaid boxer shorts, but the rest of him was
magnificently nude.

Plaid boxer shorts on so elegant a man. Adorable.
"You came for me three times tonight, Paul. You should

rest."

"The bed was cold." He yawned into his fist. "What are you

doing out here?"

Paul had felt his absence, even in sleep. The realization

warmed him. "I'm merely enjoying your view."

"The view?" Paul looked past him, past the tree that

obscured half the balcony. "It's just a row of houses like this
one."

"On the surface, perhaps." He pointed to a brownstone in

front of them. "In that one, a couple has fallen asleep with
the flavor of honey still on their lips. Their bedroom is filled
with the scent of sweetness and sex. In that one over there, a
woman was having an erotic dream about a man who is not
her husband." Kian walked along the railing, leaned forward.
"But her guilt was marring her enjoyment, so I slipped an
image of her husband into the dream. Now she can have
both, and she has no more guilt."

"You can see into people's dreams?" Paul stepped closer.

"You can alter them?"

A dream cipher who did not know of his own power. Was it

Kian's place to tell him? It was normally frowned upon to
break a human's shield of ignorance, but Paul already knew of
incubi, so the correct path was difficult to determine.

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by Rowan McBride

Clearing his mind, focusing on the question, Kian spun on

the railing and faced him with a smile. "Only when the dream
is charged with enough sexual energy."

Paul held up his hands. "Kian, you should get down from

there. You could get hurt."

So sweet, this man. "You are worried for my safety. Do

you not have a care that someone might see a naked man on
your balcony?"

Paul ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling it further.

"Well, I suppose you could get into trouble for indecent
exposure, although the tree does a respectable job of hiding
you."

"Ever the lawyer." Chuckling, Kian held out his hand.

"Come, share the view with me."

Paul's gaze touched on the narrow railing before lifting

again. "My balance isn't good enough."

"I'll not let you fall." He leaned forward. "Trust me."
Skittish once again, the human hung back, staring at

Kian's outstretched palm. "I don't think so."

Kian bent at the waist, his balance steady. "Trust me."
For a moment, he thought that Paul would deny him, but

then he released a heavy sigh and took the offered hand,
stepping onto a stone planter. "I'm not the type of man who
does stupid things."

"But you are a courageous man, this I know." Kian

tightened his grip and, in one powerful motion, pulled him up
to the railing.

"Whoa!" Paul windmilled his arms as he tried to drop back

to the planter.

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Standing at his side, Kian slipped an arm around his waist,

securing Paul against his body. "There is no cause for fear."
He buried his nose in Paul's hair, inhaled deeply. "I'll never
betray your trust."

He wobbled a bit before his body steadied. "Oh ... kay."
Kian slid his other hand beneath Paul's chin and tilted his

head upward. "Enjoy the night."

"This is..." Paul looked out, first at the houses across from

them, then at the sky above. "This is amazing."

Glad to grant this human a bit of wonder, he couldn't resist

caressing his face, the curve of his ear.

Paul shuddered with pleasure, and Kian held him fast to

keep him from falling.

"Kian? What are the people in that house over there

dreaming about?"

"I cannot tell," he answered, following Paul's gaze. "This is

a surprisingly bland street."

Disappointment radiated from his body, even as he leaned

closer.

Wanting the disappointment gone, Kian scanned the

street. "In the house at the end of the block, a young man is
having his first wet dream."

Paul nestled his cheek in the crook of Kian's shoulder.

"How can you tell it's his first?"

He smiled. "The images are disjointed, but so intense.

Dozens of women dance through his dream because his
fevered mind does not yet know what he likes."

Paul laughed softly, dropped a kiss at the base of his neck.
"Do you remember your first wet dream, Paul?"

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"Never had one."
Kian frowned. "Never? How can that be?"
Shrugging, Paul carefully slid one of his feet closer,

seeking a better fit. "All my dreams revolve around the same
theme. Solve the maze, solve the puzzles, and then solve the
riddle at the end. I've never had a sex dream, or a flying
dream, or even that dream where you're sitting in class
naked."

No wonder he'd wanted to know about the visions spun by

the people in these houses. As a cipher, Paul had never been
able to have a dream of his own. "So tragic."

Paul grinned, lifted his head. "It's not that bad."
"Would you like me to grant you an erotic dream?"
His eyes widened. "You can do that?"
"I can send a dream into your mind." Kian brushed a

thumb over those full lips. "If your body is charged with
enough sexual energy, I can even slip inside with you."

His head fell back and a soft moan escaped him. "Maybe

later. I'm ... basking right now."

Hearing him able to admit his desire so easily stoked

Kian's own. Keeping his hand on his lover's waist, Kian
slipped behind him, placing his feet between Paul's.

"Hey!"
Kian wrapped both arms around him and kissed his cheek.

"I'm here."

The muscles in Paul's body tensed as he whipped his head

around. "You're tilted back at an angle. How are you keeping
your balance? How are you keeping my balance?"

Purring, Kian licked a long, hot path up his neck. "Magic."

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Paul arched back, and his sable locks brushed against

Kian's shoulder. Kian slid his hand over the defined muscles
of Paul's stomach, up his chest to tease his nipples.

A gasp tore out of him as his body jumped, but still Kian

caressed those hard, aroused pebbles. Only when gasping
was replaced by whimpering did he grant mercy, contenting
himself with the smooth, curved flesh of Paul's chest. "You
are an exquisite man, have I ever told you? Your body is so
sleek, so strong. I've never before encountered such
perfection."

"Kian ... We shouldn't ... I can't..." His chest hitched under

Kian's palm. "I'm about to..."

Kian breathed the word into his ear. "Come?"
"Yes."
He slid his hand downward, into Paul's boxers. "Mmm," he

crooned, wrapping his fingers around the straining erection.
"You are close." He glided his thumb over the swollen head.
"To have you release your juices onto the street below holds
a certain appeal, but it seems like such a waste."

"God, Kian!"
Kian pulled his hand away and grasped his shoulders. He

gave Paul a sharp spin before hopping down to the planter.

Paul cried out, and Kian grabbed his hips, steadying him.

"Your heart is racing, isn't it? This adventure, combined with
your arousal, is almost too much to take." He leaned forward,
nuzzled his crotch. "I've not sipped from you, yet." He drew
the boxers down Paul's legs. "My mouth waters for you."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Paul tried to step down, but Kian blocked his way. He

gripped Kian's hair as a tremor traveled through his hard
thighs. "Now? Out here?"

"Now." His hands slid up the backs of Paul's legs, curved

over his sublime ass. "Here."

"I-It's not going to work. I can barely stand."
"Paul, my sweet." Kian leaned forward, breathed warm air

up the length of his eager penis. "I know your body so well.
You are more than strong enough for this."

Paul's grip tightened in his hair—a silent acquiescence.
Kian rewarded his bravery by pressing a reverent kiss to

the head of his cock.

Paul gasped, and even that sound was sweet.
In a thousand years, he'd never experienced a lover this

way. All his senses were filled to overflowing with Paul's
unique fire, and still he craved more. Kian's tongue darted
out, caught a drop of pre-cum just as it spilled forth from the
human. Though he'd meant to take this slowly, the rich taste
was far too inviting. He plunged forward, taking Paul deep
into his throat, relishing the sensation of rough pubic hair
grazing his nose and lips. The musky scent inflamed him, and
he constricted the muscles of his throat—massaging the large
head even as he sucked on the shaft.

Crying out, Paul twisted his fingers deeper into Kian's hair.
Kian drew back, swirling his tongue around Paul's dick. The

impatient human tried to thrust his hips forward, but Kian
held him firm; licking, drinking, reveling. Using only the tip of
his tongue, he teased the pulsing indentation just under the
cockhead.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"Kian..." Paul groaned. "What are you doing to me?"
Purring, he took the whole of the cock into his mouth,

allowing the sound to send vibrations down the shaft.

Paul trembled, but remained on his feet.
Keeping a firm hand on his ass, Kian slid the other around

to caress his balls. He pressed a finger between them,
encouraging them to tighten.

Every muscle in Kian's mouth, tongue, throat, worked to

bring Paul pleasure. His fingers slid behind the balls he
cradled in his hand, stroked the sensitive skin there.

Paul's entire body jumped, nearly falling off the railing, but

Kian steadied him, kept him safe as his mouth became more
insistent. The cock he worshiped so thoroughly swelled,
throbbed against his lips.

Delicate sweetness. Calescent fire. Kian would never have

enough of this human.

Paul yanked on his hair, and the rough treatment made

him groan around the dick in his mouth.

"Kian."
Sweet juices burst forth, drenching Kian's tongue and

scorching his throat. He sucked greedily, determined not to
let a single drop escape him.

So good ... No one was as good as Paul Graham.
Kian sucked even when there was no more forthcoming.

Just the lingering hint of nectar was enough to keep his fire
roaring, and his incubus hunger sought to make the pleasure
last as long as possible. When Paul's cock went soft in his
mouth, he gentled his ministrations, soothing where before

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by Rowan McBride

he'd stoked. Reluctantly, he released the flesh with a slurp
and a pop.

Paul slumped forward, and Kian caught him, hopping off

the planter and tenderly lowering him to the floor of the
balcony. He slipped his hand under Paul's chin, tipped his
head back, and delved into a long, long kiss, leaving the
human panting by the time he straightened.

"See how sweet you taste, Paul?"
Clinging to his shoulders, Paul shuddered against him.

"Kian..."

He threaded his fingers through his human's hair. "Yes?"
"Where do I know you from?" He lifted his head, his

sapphire eyes shining. "How did we meet?"

Kian hesitated. "I shouldn't say."
Paul's grip tightened on his shoulders. "Why not?"
"If I tell you, it will just be a story. Not a memory."
"Oh." He glanced away.
Kian trailed his fingers down Paul's cheek, slipped them

under his chin to draw his gaze. "It is important to you?"

"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because..." Paul pressed himself closer. "You spent four

years searching for that man. I want to be ... I want to be
him, because you felt he was good enough to find."

His lips parted. "Paul, that man was a good one. I've

always believed that. And I would like you to remember our
past, but only because it would make our present simpler."
He lowered his head. "I enjoy the man I see now far more."

He blinked, causing his eyes to shine brighter. "You do?"

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

"Your fire is unlike any that has blazed through me. You'll

remember, eventually, but for now it is not so important." He
glided his palm down Paul's back, slipped a finger into the line
of his ass. "I only wish to burn with you."

Paul swallowed hard, pushed himself into Kian's hand.
"So eager." Kian chuckled, caressed his pucker. "But I

should not take advantage. My increased size has made you
sore—if I fuck you again you might not be able to walk
tomorrow."

"I don't care." Paul trailed soft kisses along his shoulder. "I

just want you."

Any other incubus would have granted the plea, but Kian

surprised himself by denying it. "Not tonight. If you want, I'll
pleasure you with my mouth again. This time in your bed, so
you will not have to expend so much energy to stay on your
feet."

Paul's lips curved against his skin. "Maybe I can..."
"Maybe you can what?" asked Kian, stroking his back.
Paul straightened, stared up at him with heavy-lidded

eyes. "I'm sorry, Kian. I have to go now."

He frowned. "Go? Where?"
His blue eyes drifted shut. "I'm sorry," he murmured

again, just before his legs gave out.

"Paul!" Kian swept him up, cradled him in his arms.

"What's..." His question trailed when he realized that Paul was
no longer in his body.

Someone had called him to cipher.
Hugging him close, Kian carried him inside and gently laid

him out on the bed. He crawled in, pulled the covers over

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

them. "Do not fear, Paul," he whispered. "I will be here when
you awaken."

Paul did not stir.
What was it like? Forever walking in the dreams of others,

never having one of your own? So many needs to fill, so
many problems to solve.

It was no wonder that the man he'd met four years ago

had taken no interest in him.

It made Kian all the more thankful that the one in this bed

cared.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chapter Eight

Opening his eyes, Paul sat up when he realized his room

was flooded with sunlight.

Kian sat cross-legged at his side, grinning at him. "Good

morning."

"Good morning," he murmured, glancing at the clock on

his night-stand. "It's eleven already? What day is it?"

Kian leaned forward, his smile brightening. "Sunday."
Ah, well. At least he didn't have to worry about work. Paul

took a slow breath as he tried to remember last night. "Did I
pass out on you again?"

His smile faded a bit. "Yes."
Paul let his back thump against his headboard as he

rubbed at his eyes. "Third time in little over a week. Am I
ever going to get used to your intensity?"

The incubus tilted his head to the side. "You believe I am

the cause of your fainting?"

"What else could it be?" Paul reached upward and

stretched his overworked muscles. "I'm healthy..."

Kian propped his chin on the heel of his hand. "You

certainly are."

Paul ignored the heated comment and finished his

sentence. "And I've never been prone to fainting spells." He
paused, thought things over. "Although I never could stay up
late. Maybe the problem is my stamina."

"Trust me, Paul." Kian's eyes shimmered. "There is nothing

wrong with your stamina."

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by Rowan McBride

He chuckled, well used to Kian's provocative humor by

now. His gaze slid over the incubus's naked body, and he
frowned when it touched on his hand. "Why are your fingers
purple?"

Kian glanced at his hand. "Oh!" He reached behind him,

retrieved a large ceramic bowl, and held it out to Paul. "I got
these for you."

Looking into the bowl, he saw that it was filled to the brim

with tiny, deep-purple berries. "What are they?"

"Dewberries. They are not so sweet as ice-cream, and very

good. Try some." He held them closer. "But be careful, they
are delicate."

Paul took the bowl, placed it on his lap as a smile tugged

at his lips. He'd never met anyone so giving. "You picked
these for me? When?"

"Shortly after you fell asleep. It took hours to gather this

many—the thorny stems and fragile berries require much
patience."

"Thorns?" Paul set the bowl next to him on the mattress.

"Did you hurt your fingers?"

"A bit, but they healed..."
Paul took his wrist, held the stained hand to his lips.

Gently, he took Kian's forefinger into his mouth and sucked
on its sweetness.

Kian's eyes rounded. "Paul..."
He moved to the next finger.
Kian began to purr.
And the next.

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by Rowan McBride

"Paul, my sweet." He groaned. "Your fire is a formidable

one."

Paul kissed the palm of his hand, released it. His body

shook with arousal from the brief contact, but he forced
himself calm. "Don't hurt yourself over me, alright?"

Kian held his hand against his heart, a stunned expression

on his face. Then he leaned closer. "I have ... urges."

Paul swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Kian was

always gentle, and never failed to bring him rapture, but the
sheer intensity of the incubus's passion never failed to shake
him. "O-Okay."

Kian laughed. "I'm not speaking of sexual urges,

although," he licked his lips, "I most certainly feel them. I
yearn to see you smile. I yearn to know you."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Know me?"
"Tell me things."
"Like what?"
Looking as if he didn't know himself, Kian straightened.

"Like..." He broke into a smile. "Your family. Tell me about
them."

His family? "No brothers, no sisters. My father is a

stockbroker on Wall Street; I have dinner with him twice a
month. My mother died when I was nine."

Something flickered in those bronze eyes. Sympathy,

perhaps? "How ... How did she die?"

"She was working late, then had to cross an empty parking

lot. When she opened the door to her car, someone stabbed
her and stole it."

The color drained from Kian's face. "I'm sorry."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Paul should have felt more grief when saying that, he

knew, but he only felt a faint, dull ache. "It was a long time
ago."

Kian awkwardly fingered the sheets between them. "What

was she like? Your mother?"

"She was a teacher, and she smiled a lot."
Kian frowned, looking confused by the answer. "That's all?"
Paul shrugged. "She was perfect, and now she's gone."
"Oh," whispered Kian, dropping his gaze.
"It's not so attractive anymore, is it?" asked Paul, his voice

soft. "The frost inside of me."

His head shot up. "I..."
"It's alright, Kian. That's the way it usually goes. I

understand if you want to leave." Although he kept his face
smooth, thin spears of ice lanced through his chest when he
thought of Kian gone forever.

So why was he saying these things?
Distress joined the confusion in Kian's expression. "You

would cast me aside so easily?"

This man could have anyone he wanted. Why did he want

to stay so badly? "I'm not casting you aside. I'm just giving
you an out." A tentative smile touched Paul's lips as he forced
himself to say something he'd wanted to admit for a few days
now. "It's ... nice waking up to you here."

Breaking into a grin, the incubus threw himself forward,

pouncing on top of Paul like some great big cat.

The impact knocked the bowl at his side over, and the

unexpected full-bodied contact made Paul groan. Berries

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

spilled down the mattress, rolling against his skin as Kian
took his mouth in a hard, eager kiss.

They slid lower until—once again—Paul found himself flat

on his back staring into shimmering eyes.

Kian pushed himself up, his breathing labored as he

scooped a handful of dewberries into his palm and poured
them over Paul's chest.

Paul gasped when he felt the little berries gather in the

crevasses that separated his muscles—between his pecs,
down his abs. Slowly, Kian lowered himself, crushing the fruit
and releasing their juices as he rubbed their bodies together.

"I do not want an 'out,'" said Kian, grinning down at him.

"I want to lick your entire body clean." Illustrating his point,
he lapped at Paul's nipples.

All his frost melted away as fire blazed to life once more.

He reached up, wrapped his arms around Kian.

When the purrs rumbled through his body, he closed his

eyes and smiled.

Nothing in his life had ever been as good as this.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

Chapter Nine

Would Kian be waiting for him on his stoop this evening?
A light frown touched Paul's forehead as he stepped off the

elevator and into the Harcourt lobby. Although he knew his
newfound lover must have a life outside of him, it seemed as
if the incubus was always there to greet him when he
returned home, heedless of the drop in temperature.

He'd have to do something about that.
"Grandpa!"
He turned his head, saw a little girl jump into the arms of

Edward Krauss. He paused, unused to seeing the senior
partner outside of a law setting.

The older man swept her up and straightened. "Danielle!

How are you, sweetie?"

Danielle hugged him tight. Paul noticed the riot of colors

she wore. Red ribbons in her hair, a bright blue shirt, an even
brighter pair of green pants.

She must have dressed herself.
Still, it all seemed familiar somehow...
Paul shook the strange thought from his head and

continued out of the lobby.

"It's you! It's you!"
Before he could even register the girl was referring to him,

she slammed into his legs. The impact knocked the briefcase
from his hand, but he—just barely—managed to stay on his
feet.

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Surprised, he stared down at the girl clinging to him. "H-

Hi."

"Danielle?" Edward crossed the lobby, curiosity shaping his

features. "Do you know Mr. Graham?"

She tilted her head all the way back, smiling brightly.

"Your name is 'Mr. Graham?' Like the cracker?"

He'd never thought of that. Seemed everyone these days

wanted to compare him to sweet things. "Yes."

"Honey!" A tall woman with blond hair rushed toward

them. "You shouldn't run up to strangers like that!"

"Mr. Graham isn't a stranger, Mommy!" She jumped away

from him, held her hands up to her mother. "Gimme Frankie,
please!"

Something tugged at the corners of his mind as he picked

up his briefcase.

Frankie?
The woman hesitated, pulled an orange teddy bear from

her purse and handed it to her daughter.

Danielle took the bear and proudly showed it to Paul.

"See? You weren't sure if he'd be there when I woke up, but
he was."

Paul reached out, touched the stuffed animal's ear.
"Danielle," said Edward, "what are you talking about?"
She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. "He's

the one, Grandpa. He's the one who found Frankie!"

Edward met Paul's gaze. "Paul?"
Not knowing what to say, he shook his head.

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Danielle hugged her doll to her chest. "You remember,

don't you, Mr. Graham? You remember me and Frankie,
right?"

His lips parted. He didn't want to hurt the child, but when

he looked at her, he only saw flashes of bright colors and ...
and daisies. Why did he think of daisies?

"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Her lower lip trembled as she clutched her bear tighter.

"Wh-What gets wetter the more it dries?"

Paul answered automatically. "A towel."
"See?" Danielle sniffled before smiling. "You remember.

Nobody else could find Frankie, but you did."

Again, he didn't know what to say.
"I apologize for this, Mr. Graham." Danielle's mother

slipped her hands over her daughter's shoulders. "We thought
we'd lost the doll on a trip to Disneyland. She was
inconsolable for weeks, then one day it just appeared in her
bed. That was when she began to talk about the dream."

Paul glanced down at the girl. "Dream?"
"I was crying, and you helped me. Because you're a nice

man."

Suddenly, he remembered a box of crayons, and a puppy

with huge ears. Puppy ... dog ... man's—

"Frankie is your best friend," he murmured, staring at the

doll she hugged so protectively.

Danielle nodded. "You brought him back to me. Now I

want to do something nice for you."

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102

His heart skipped a beat. He'd never been very good with

children, and this girl was so open with her feelings. "You
don't have to do anything."

She looked up at Edward. "Can't we do something nice for

him, Grandpa?"

"We certainly can, sweetie." He smiled. "Paul, why don't

you come to dinner with us?"

"Sir, there's no need to..."
Edward leaned forward, dropped his voice. "I realize I'm

putting you in a spot, here, but you apparently bear some
resemblance to the man my granddaughter believes retrieved
her favorite toy. Could you play along, just for a while?"

Paul knew better than to turn this opportunity down. Soon,

he'd be up for partner, and Edward Krauss could make it
happen. Any law firm attorney would jump at this chance.

But it was cold outside, and Kian was waiting for him.
He met Danielle's hopeful gaze. "I'm afraid I can't go out

tonight—I'm meeting a friend. Maybe tomorrow?" He glanced
at Edward. "That is, if it's alright with you, sir?"

Edward grinned broadly. "That will be just fine, Paul. I'll

have my secretary send you the details in the morning." He
took Danielle's hand. "Is that okay with you, dear?"

"Yep!" Danielle stood straight, put on a serious face. "We

look forward to having you for dinner."

Paul decided he'd never seen anything so cute in his life.

"Thank you. I look forward to it as well." He shook her
mother's hand, nodded to Edward, and turned to leave.

"Bye, Mr. Graham Cracker!"

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103

He paused, stifled an unexpected burst of laughter, and

went home to Kian.

* * * *

Asher glanced around the room, dark save for the

flickering lights given off by the wall of monitors at the front.
A single individual sat before them, avidly watching the
dancing images.

"I see your new toys have arrived."
The man spun his chair, grinning like an excited kid. "Just

this morning. Your father has already jacked them into my
magic. Now all the Crofts can see what I see!"

Shaking his head, Asher flopped down in a chair beside

him. "Tommy, there used to be a time when seers shunned
all technology."

"They didn't know what they were missing." He made a

face. "And you shouldn't call me 'Tommy.' I'm ten years older
than you."

His mouth crooked. "You certainly don't look it."
Tommy's grey eyes remained steady, but Asher could feel

the giddiness brought on by the compliment. He'd met
Thomas Kenne in person at thirteen, when he'd been named
heir to New York, and the seer immediately developed a crush
on him. Although nothing was ever expressed or acted upon,
the poor man spent the next five years hating himself for
having those feelings. So now Asher did what he could to
make things easier for him.

"May I help you, Mr. Croft?"
"Ash."

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104

A blush tinted his fair skin when told to use the intimate

nickname reserved for close friends and family. "A-Ash?"

He grinned, propped his feet up on a low counter. "I hear

we've got a rogue wizard in town."

Tommy nodded. "Richard Davis."
Asher gestured to the monitors. "Show me?"
Humiliation became the seer's dominant emotion. "I-I

can't. He's cloaked his hotel suite."

"No need for embarrassment, Tommy. Most wizards put a

cloak around their homes. Although Davis most likely hired
someone else to do it."

The unpleasant feeling eased, replaced by the seer's

natural confidence in his own abilities. "I did catch a glimpse
of him when he arrived, though."

"And?"
"The rumors are true. He's sapped of all his magic." He

pointed to a screen near the center, and a memory appeared
on it. "See?"

Asher whistled. "That incubus really did a number on him."
"Speaking of incubi..." Tommy pointed to another screen.

"That's happening right now."

He glanced up just in time to see Paul walk up the steps to

his brownstone. The incubus, who had been sitting at the top,
jumped up and dragged him into an embrace. "Ah yes, I
know all about that."

"He ... He disobeyed you."
"That he did."
"It was a direct order from the Guardian of Magic. He can't

get away with that."

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105

Asher chuckled.
Tommy raised an eyebrow. "You've got a plan, don't you?"
Getting comfortable, Asher linked his hands behind his

head as he settled back in the chair. "In the magical realm, I
am detective, judge, jury, and executioner. I always have a
plan."

Tommy's crush warmed a bit, but Asher found he enjoyed

the sensation. The seer's feelings were always soft, gentle.
One of the reasons Asher didn't mind spending long periods of
time in close quarters with him.

Asher turned his head to look at the monitors. "Show me

what else is going on in my city."

The screens flickered wildly, and they both watched the

seer's visions for a while. He made a mental note to keep an
eye on Richard Davis. The other wizard's arrival didn't worry
him—Davis no longer had the power to cast any kind of spell,
and no one in New York was crazy enough to help him break
any laws. Still, it was better to err on the side of caution,
even if it did bore the hell out of him.

Keeping an eye on Paul and his new lover, however...
Now that was going to be much more interesting.

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106

Chapter Ten

"You're awake," said Kian, surprised as he held on to a

tree branch with one hand. In the other, he cradled a ceramic
bowl protectively against his chest as he stared down at the
balcony.

Paul stretched his arms over his head, making Kian

salivate as the bared muscles of his torso elongated and
flexed. No boxer shorts tonight—the human was tormenting
him with silk pants again.

"Had a dream," said Paul, yawning as he dropped his arms

to his sides. "It's not unusual for me to wake up afterward."
He smiled, and it made the fire in Kian's chest leap wildly.
"Thank you for leaving a note letting me know you'd be
gone."

Aching to be close, Kian leapt from the tree branch to land

smoothly onto the human's balcony.

Paul's gaze traveled the length of his body. "Do you know

you move like a cat?"

Kian grinned. "That is a common observation regarding

incubi." More interested in the human, he took a step
forward. "What was your dream about?"

"Same as always: puzzles in a maze." The smile slipped

from his mouth. "You must think I have no imagination."

Perhaps it was better that the dream walker remained

unaware of his abilities, but Kian could not see the harm in
dispelling the other man's troubled expression. "On the

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contrary, I believe it must require extraordinary imagination
to solve the vast array of challenges you face every night."

Paul stared at him a moment, before his smile returned. "I

suppose I never thought of it that way."

No one could make Kian's fire burn so ardently. More and

more of his time was consumed by his need to make this
human happy, to gain more of those sweet smiles. That very
need reminded him of the bowl tucked in his arm, and he held
it out to Paul.

"Another present?" asked Paul, taking it from his hands

and glancing down. "Dewberries."

The cool tone disquieted him. "I believed you had enjoyed

the taste."

Paul looked up, somber even as his palms curved over the

ceramic. "I told you not to hurt yourself for me."

"Oh!" Kian broke into a smile and held up his hand. "I was

most careful this time." He wiggled his fingers. "Not a single
thorn pricked me."

Low, soft chuckles filled the air, and Kian's breath caught.
"What is it?" asked Paul, reaching into the bowl and

popping a berry into his mouth. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head as his gaze locked onto Paul's lips. "You

laugh so rarely. The sound is..."

"Rusty?" He sat on a bench against the far railing and

placed the bowl in his lap. "Frightening?"

Was he teasing? Kian realized he didn't yet know the

human well enough to be sure. "Enchanting," he replied
softly. "Utterly enchanting."

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108

Paul's blue eyes held an invitation as he nodded to the

space beside him. "Come over here and have a seat."

It went against his instincts, denied his own desires, but

he held himself back. He knew what would happen if he took
the seat offered, and at the moment he craved something
different. He couldn't fathom what it might be.

"Kian?"
"Do you like the berries?"
Paul's brow furrowed. "Sweet, but not overpowering. I like

them a lot better than the coffee you made me after our first
night together."

Their first night together...
Kian dropped his gaze. "I seduce, and then I feed. Such is

the way of incubi." He frowned as he finally understood why
the Croft wizard had been so concerned for his friend. "Until
you, I'd never been denied another's passion. To use my
magic to force your fire to the surface was a natural solution."
He lifted his head. "I fear I made a mistake that night, and
most of the nights thereafter."

The invitation faded from Paul's eyes. "You regret sleeping

with me? You're leaving, then?"

"No!" Kian rushed forward, dropped to his knees before the

human. "But I've come to wonder if the pleasure I give you is
only an illusion, not so different from my clothing. And these
thoughts bring me..." he reached out, stopped just short of
touching Paul, "...guilt. An emotion I'm unaccustomed to
feeling."

"Hmm." Paul moved the bowl on his lap to the seat beside

him. "Guilt is a powerful word, especially in my line of work.

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109

It's not usually my call, but in my opinion there's no cause for
it here." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I never laughed until you. Given the first time was before
you ever laid a hand on me, am I right in assuming your
magic has nothing to do with that?"

His lips parted. "Yes."
Paul scooped a small handful of berries into his palm, held

them in front of Kian. "And these." He plucked a dewberry
and placed it into his mouth. "I don't like sweet things. Once
people find out, they leave it at that. You're the only one
who's made the effort to find something I might enjoy. You
can have me any time you want with a touch, so why would
you do that?"

Kian swallowed, hard pressed to keep himself away from

Paul's lips. "I-I like to give you things."

The lawyer before him nodded. "And I stated that I found

you attractive at the charity gala, correct?"

Gripping the legs of the bench, Kian let a low purr rumble

out of him.

Paul slipped another berry into his mouth. "There's no

denying the existence, or the power, of magic. The evidence
is indisputable. But there's also substantial evidence
indicating that I was of sound mind—and hence quite capable
of separating reality from illusion—when I said I wanted you."
He licked the pad of his finger. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Was this how the dream walker ciphered? Was this how

he'd found Kian so long ago? In his own strange, efficient
way, Paul had allayed the fears within him, giving him what
he needed most once again. Now, Kian only felt desire as he

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crawled onto the bench to straddle the human's thighs. "I
agree," he breathed, licking the sweetness from the other
man's lips.

Paul groaned, dropping the rest of his berries to slip his

hands beneath Kian's shirt. "Not to say magic doesn't have
certain advantages."

Kian purred, then nipped, then purred again. They

undressed each other slowly, exploring one another's body
amidst a sultry, honest fire. For the first time, he did not seek
to sate an incubus's hunger.

He only sought to be next to Paul.

* * * *

After washing his hands, Paul dried them off with a paper

towel. He tossed the towel into the trash and turned to find
Kian standing inches away from him.

The incubus grinned. "Hello, Paul."
Startled, he jumped back, slamming into the wall behind

him. "Kian!" He looked around, making sure the restroom was
empty, and lowered his voice. "What are you doing here?"

He leaned forward, his eyes shimmering pools of bronze. "I

missed you."

"Missed me? I only left the house..." He glanced at his

watch, tapped the face with his forefinger. Could that be
right? "Eight hours ago?"

"Eight hours far too long." Kian lifted his hand.
Paul snapped his head back, winced when his skull hit the

wall.

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Purring, Kian fingered his hair. "Are you hurt? Would you

like me to heal you?"

He was able to keep a somewhat clear mind, but only

because Kian was teasing him by not touching his skin. "I'm
fine." He tried to summon a stern frown. "You have to go."

"Must I?" His face softened. "I find that when you are

gone, I want to do nothing but sit on your stoop and wait for
you."

That statement warmed something inside of him, and Paul

couldn't hang on to his frown. "I don't like you sitting there by
yourself." He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled a long,
blue velvet box from his breast pocket. "Here."

Surprise and excitement lit Kian's expression. "A gift?"
"You've given me so many. It's past time I reciprocated,

don't you think?"

Gingerly, Kian took the box and stepped back.
Paul took the opportunity to breathe, to let go of his

arousal.

Kian eagerly opened it up, tilted his head to the side. "A

necklace?" Pulling it from the box, he stared in awe at the key
on the end. "What does this unlock?"

"My front door." His voice went gruff. "I know you said you

had a lot of homes, but I wanted you to know that you're
always welcome in mine."

Kian trailed the delicate chain over the palm of his hand.
Nerves got the better of Paul, and he started to ramble.

"You don't have to use it if you don't want to, although it
must be better than sitting out in the cold. The jeweler said
platinum would be the most comfortable on your skin, which

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is why I chose that particular chain." He rubbed the back of
his neck, incapable of stemming the flood of words pouring
out of him. "But I'd understand if you didn't want to wear it,
given your history. I just thought—because your clothes
aren't real—that there would be less chance of losing it this
way. That could be a faulty assumption, I realize. You must
have provisions for things like..."

"Paul."
He met Kian's gaze, his heart catching when he saw that

the incubus's eyes were shining brighter than ever.

Kian looped the chain around his neck. "I shall treasure it."

His clothes vanished as he pressed himself close. "Allow me
to thank you properly."

The heat of the incubus's body roared through him, and he

struggled to resist. "N-No."

"No?" Kian lowered his head, branded the curve of his neck

with a searing kiss. "You haven't said no in almost a month."

Paul started to push him away, found himself gliding his

hands over Kian's hard back instead. "I can't. I'm at work."

"Just a taste." He licked the underside of Paul's jaw.

"That's all I ask."

"Someone..." Paul groaned when those playful teeth

nipped at his ear. "Someone could walk in at any moment. I
can't be caught having sex here."

Sucking on his earlobe, Kian stretched his arm out behind

him. A spark leapt from his fingers, and then both hands were
on Paul's body again. "There. Now no one will bother us."

His eyes began to drift shut, but he fought the urge to give

in. "What did you do?"

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"I placed a hypnotic suggestion on the door. Anyone

passing will believe the restroom is out of order." The incubus
nuzzled his way into Paul's collar. "A convenient spell, for
interludes such as these."

Unable to help himself, he turned his head, touched his lips

to Kian's cheek. "We shouldn't." He paused, trying to
remember why. "If I walk out of here with my clothes
rumpled, everyone will know. It's unprofessional."

Kian smoothed his hands over Paul's shoulders before

gliding long, nimble fingers to his tie. "I shall be most careful
with your clothing." He unfastened the knot, slid the slip of
material loose. Folding it neatly, he placed it on the counter
by one of the sinks. "See?"

Normally, Paul could argue an issue until he won. But this

touch, that wicked smile, burned away all of his resolve. He
sighed, and stopped fighting so that Kian could remove the
rest of his suit. "Most people only get partially undressed for a
quickie in the bathroom."

"You are experienced in this, then?" Kian slid the jacket off

his shoulders and showed it the same care as the tie. As he
focused on the shirt, his seductive voice caressed and teased.
"Perhaps you can show me a thing or two?"

Chuckling, Paul touched Kian's arms as the incubus

unfastened the catch in his pants. He had no idea intimacy
could be like this. Before Kian, he couldn't even imagine
laughing during sex. "I doubt that."

Kian drew his zipper down, grasped both the slacks and

the underwear, and slid them downward.

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Stroking those silken strands of copper hair, Paul dutifully

slipped off his shoes and stepped free from the last of his
clothing.

Kian knelt before him as he folded the pants, placed them

on top of the jacket and shirt. He curved his hands over Paul's
hips and pulled him forward, lapping at his balls, bathing his
dick with long, wet licks.

Paul's breath rushed hot and hard through his mouth.
Rising slowly, Kian ran his tongue up Paul's stomach, bit

one of his nipples while tweaking the other.

He would have cried out, had Kian not clamped a hand

over his mouth.

"Shh," he crooned. "The spell is simple and not

soundproof." He smiled, pulled his hand away to brush a
finger over Paul's lips. "I cannot be with you and concentrate
at the same time."

A master of pleasure felt the same intensity that scorched

his own senses, and the knowledge drove his desire to new
heights. "I thought ... I thought you'd be bored of me by
now."

Kian slipped his arms around his body, held him close.

"Never."

Tenderness enveloped him, urged him to melt into the

man who held him. "Kian, I..."

The incubus jerked away and glanced over his shoulder.
Paul frowned, following his gaze. "What's..."
Without warning, Kian shoved him into one of the stalls

and slammed the door. Paul flung out his arms to steady
himself, nearly falling against the toilet. Shocked, he stared at

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Kian's feet on the other side, had a moment to register that
they suddenly had on shoes again before the main restroom
door opened.

"Who are you?"
The heat drained from his body when he recognized the

voice.

Riker.
Kian answered casually, as if he used this restroom every

day. "Kian Somers."

"Are you one of the temps? A paralegal for the Anderson

case?"

The stall's door bowed inward—Kian was leaning against it.

"A client."

"A client?"
There was a long pause, and Paul barely restrained himself

from lifting up his sock-covered feet. No point in hiding the
fact he was here. His clothes were piled on the counter.

When Riker spoke again, his voice sounded silky,

inquisitive. "Whose client?"

"I'm not comfortable divulging that," said Kian. "After all, I

have no idea who you are."

The smooth timbre in the other man's voice cracked with

surprise. "You're not going to tell me?"

"No, and you'll not pull the answer from me."
Paul's eyebrows drew together. That was a strange thing

to say, wasn't it?

A tense silence permeated the room, before he heard Riker

exhale heavily. "Look, I know what you're doing here, and I
don't really care who you're doing it with. In about ten

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minutes, I'm going to call security, so—client or not—you'd
better finish up by then. Understand?"

"I cannot possibly finish what I'm doing here in ten

minutes," said Kian, unabashed and probably smiling.

Paul felt his skin go red.
Riker didn't seem impressed with the incubus's declaration.

"Ten minutes is all anyone needs to fuck. The rest of the time
is just lip service."

The door swung open and shut.
Kian opened the stall, his face curious. "That man walked

through my spell and was immune to my sexual appeal. Who
was he? Do you know?"

He couldn't find his voice, so answered in a whisper.

"Riker. Stephen Riker. He's a lawyer here." He palmed his
chest, trying to calm his rioting heart, and decided that semi-
public sex—whether in a coatroom or in a restroom—was
vastly overrated.

"Oh?" The incubus glanced briefly at the front door. "He's

very charming."

Kian had picked up on that from such a brief conversation?

"Most people think so."

"Do you?"
He shrugged. "I've never really thought about it."
"Is he your friend?" asked Kian, easing into the stall.
Paul fingered Kian's shirt, wondered when he planned to

get naked. "No."

"Is he your rival?"
"That's one way to put it, I guess."
"How would you put it?"

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Finding it too difficult to think intelligently, he tugged the

incubus closer and tried to entice nudity by rubbing their
bodies together. "Rival is a good word."

It didn't work. "Do you like him?"
"I don't dislike him."
"What of the other people here?"
Paul slipped a hand under his shirt. "What about them?"
"Are they your friends? Do you like them?"
Groaning, he dropped his forehead against the other man's

shoulder. "Apparently my skills at seduction leave something
to be desired." He turned his face so that his lips moved
against the pulse point at Kian's neck. "I thought you wanted
to taste me."

Kian pulled away and caught his chin in a tight grip. For

the first time, Paul saw the frustration in his eyes. "Tell me
things."

He'd only requested that once before, and it hadn't gone

well, so Paul hesitated. "What things?"

His brow furrowed. "About the place in which you spend

most of your day. About the people who surround you."

Paul's mind went blank, and he could only stare up at him.
Kian growled.
He tried to jump back, only to be grabbed and yanked

forward against Kian's body.

"Why won't you share yourself with me?"
Baffled, and aroused by Kian's touch, he struggled through

his response. "I ... I gave you the key to my home. How
much more can I share?"

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Kian looked just as confused. "Why do you not allow me to

give you a dream?"

The question threw him. It had no connection to the rest of

the conversation. "I've never said no."

"You've never said yes, either. You always seem to find an

excuse to avoid the issue altogether."

Something about letting a person tamper with his dreams

seemed ... wrong. Dangerous. He'd skirted the issue because
he didn't want Kian to think he didn't trust him. "That's what
this is about? You want to give me a wet dream?" Paul
couldn't shake the feeling that it was a bad idea, but if it
brought Kian's smile back, he was willing to try.

"It's more complicated than that."
More complicated? How could he be expected to solve this

when the elements kept changing? "What do you want?"

"I want..." Kian swallowed. "I want to know you, Paul."
Paul slipped his arms around him, feeling acutely naked

with the incubus fully dressed. "You know how I like my
coffee. You know about my mother. I think you know me
better than anyone."

"That you can say such things..." Kian lifted his hand, ran

his knuckles up Paul's cheek. "You speak about a beverage
and your mother as if they are the same. This is not the
knowledge I seek." His hand slid down to Paul's chest. "I wish
to know what is in here."

Paul shook his head, trying to decipher this riddle. "I've

told you everything I can. I've given you everything I can.
Five minutes ago it was enough, and now it's not. Why?"

Kian's body started. "I am not sure. But I need more."

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"Of what?"
"Of you!" Kian's eyes rounded, and he stumbled backward,

breaking the embrace.

That cold, sick feeling returned. The one that plagued him

when the incubus had disappeared before. "Kian?"

"You were right. I should not have come here." He turned

away. "It is very unlike me to demand these things from a
human. From anyone."

Paul wanted to stop him from leaving, but the words

tangled together and lodged in his throat. There was nothing
he could do. He could only watch it happen.

Just like...
He shivered in the cold. Alone.
Just like before.

* * * *

Closing the door behind him, Paul slipped into his routine.

Coat, shoes, keys, wallet. He tried not to listen to the quiet of
his house.

For the first time in weeks, Kian hadn't been waiting for

him.

He walked into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator to get a

bottle of water. He stopped short when he saw a bowl of fresh
dewberries sitting on the top shelf. Curious, he opened the
freezer, and a smile touched his lips when he saw it filled to
capacity with brightly colored cartons.

"You are so handsome when you smile."
He tried to turn, but Kian wrapped strong arms around his

body. A tentative fire lazed through him, as if the incubus was

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unsure of his reception. Paul's breath hitched, and he leaned
back. "You used the key."

Kian kissed his cheek. "Yes."
Being held, knowing the key had been used, relieved Paul

so much that the apology tumbled out of him. "I-I'm sorry.
About today. I didn't mean to hurt..."

"There's no need for that." He stroked Paul's chest. "Do

you like my gift? All of mine are rather frivolous when
compared to the one you gave me, the one I wear around my
neck, but I chose the flavors carefully."

Paul looked at the cartons of sorbet—strawberry, lemon,

and cherry, alongside a dozen other flavors. Every one of
them was labeled All-Natural and No Sugar Added. "I don't
think these are frivolous at all."

The incubus nuzzled the sensitive skin behind his ear.
Somehow, he managed to turn around. "You prefer ice-

cream, don't you? What's your favorite flavor?"

He stroked Paul's hair. "I'm fond of the double-chocolate

fudge with the brownie bits within."

Just the sound of that made Paul want to make an

appointment with the dentist. "Why didn't you get some for
yourself?"

Kian straightened as his mouth worked a few moments in

silence. "I ... I did not think it was my place, to store things in
your home."

"That's ridiculous. Giving you a key implies a certain

amount of familiarity. You can bring whatever you want."

Kian's lips curved in a soft smile.

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Paul cleared his throat, unused to these feelings and

wanting things to return to normal. Or some semblance of
normal. "Besides, I've got plenty of room."

If anything, the smile grew even more affectionate. "I've

noticed the ... Spartan state of your home."

His house was pretty bare. He didn't have a lot of personal

effects, and he'd never thought to hire a decorator, so none
of the rooms contained much color. Strange, how he'd never
realized the emptiness of it all before today. "I don't spend a
lot of time here. Mostly I just use it as a place to sleep."

Kian reached behind him, shut the freezer door. "Your

bedroom has warmed considerably in the past weeks. I adore
it there."

Heat stained Paul's cheeks, and he chuckled in an effort to

banish the uncharacteristic blush that arose when he thought
about what had, exactly, 'warmed' his bedroom. "Have you
eaten yet?" he asked suddenly. "There's nothing but berries
and sorbet in the kitchen, but we can go out."

"Out?" His bronze eyes shimmered. "A date?"
A date? All at once, he was in over his head. "S-Sure."
Kian pulled him closer, and Paul had to bite his lip to stifle

a moan. "We've never left the house before."

Frowning, he thought back and realized with a start that

the incubus was right. "Ah, Kian," he said awkwardly. "I'm
sorry. I don't have much experience with relationships."

His eyebrows lifted. "Relationship?"
A fresh blush heated Paul's skin as he tried to pull away.

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Kian held him fast. "I would like to have a..." he lowered

his head, pressed a soft kiss to Paul's mouth, "relationship
with you."

Was he ready for this? For once, Paul didn't try to puzzle it

out. "You'll have to explain the precepts to me."

Kian blinked, before bursting into laughter. "I know

nothing of the rules. I only know I'll share my fire with no one
but you."

Until he left. Or something took him away.
The dark thought unsettled him, and he carefully kept the

emotion from reaching his face. It was a warning, telling him
he was totally unprepared for a relationship, that one of them
would be broken by the end.

But he didn't believe it. He believed Kian.
This incubus had chosen to stay with him, and that

deserved something, even if it might be more than he could
give. He trusted Kian to keep his promises, so Paul would find
a way to make this work.

Because Paul couldn't share his fire.
It only burned for Kian.

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Chapter Eleven

Kian watched as Paul spoke quietly with the host of the

restaurant. The human—his human—had changed into an
evening suit for the occasion of their first date. He stood by
the podium, his back straight, one of his hands in his pockets.

A study in perfection to the smallest detail, from his

Windsor tie, to his silver cufflinks, to the white silk
handkerchief tucked into the top pocket of his jacket. As
always, his hair was flawless. Kian ached to drag his fingers
through it.

He felt a purr rumble deep within his chest and stifled it. It

was a trial, hiding his incubus nature when all he wanted to
do was throw Paul to the floor and fuck him senseless. But
hide it he would, along with his powers.

Most incubi couldn't mask their thrall for more than a few

hours, and Kian was no exception. It was tiring, and
somewhat disconcerting, to conceal one's true self. But he
didn't want his magic to sweep the room, to cause
complications during their dinner.

Paul shook the host's hand, slipping two one-hundred-

dollar bills into the other man's palm and glancing briefly to a
table by the window. The maître d' nodded, and began to lead
them in that direction.

Paul looked over his shoulder. "Ready?"
Oh, more than he dared admit. Kian took a slow breath,

followed his lover to the table. They sat across from each

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other, and wicked visions saturated his mind of all the things
they could do beneath this linen tablecloth.

Instead of acting on his impulses, he attempted

conversation.

"You bribed the host."
Paul scanned the wine list. "I didn't have a reservation."
So casual about his power. It had been the same the night

they'd met in a dream. "We could have gone to another
restaurant."

He handed the list to a waiter and ordered a bottle of red

Bordeaux. "I wanted to take you to this one."

"Why?"
He gestured to the window, to the city of New York

stretched out below them. "I noticed you're fond of heights. I
thought you'd like it here."

Earlier today, Kian had accused Paul of not sharing

himself. He'd grown angry with Paul's explanations, because
he had believed the human did not care for him beyond the
pleasures of sex.

He'd been grievously wrong.
"Are you alright?" asked Paul.
He kept his gaze on the window, trying to blink away the

moisture in his eyes.

"If you'd rather go somewhere else, we can."
Kian turned his head. "I wish to stay here." Although Paul

had never been cruel—this kind, attentive aspect of his nature
never failed to shake Kian to his core. The human's allure was
more potent than any incubi magic, and there was no escape.

He did not want to escape.

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Paul leaned forward. "Your eyes are shimmering. Are you

aroused?"

A trembling smile touched his lips. "Yes, in a way I've

never been before. But, as I said, I do not want to leave."

Paul nodded, looked over the menu. "What would you like?

I've had the filet mignon. It's very good."

Propping his chin against the heel of his hand, Kian

decided he also enjoyed this side of Paul—cool, in control. It
made his hidden passion all the more precious. "I prefer fish."

He turned the page, did not glance up. "We'll have to order

a different wine for you, then."

The nonchalant tone about such expensive fare made Kian

want to know more. "Have you been rich all your life?" he
asked, tentative because his inquisitiveness had gotten him
into trouble before.

"By most people's standards, yes." His brow furrowed, and

he lifted his head. "Why do you ask?"

"You carry yourself like nobility."
"Oh." His face cleared. "Is it an attractive quality?"
Kian smiled. "All of your qualities are attractive."
The color in his eyes caught the light, making them sparkle

like true sapphires. An enthralling spell, one only Paul could
cast.

"Kian, I'd like to..."
A waiter appeared, asking for their orders.
Paul cut his sentence short, ordered something for himself

before glancing at Kian. "What would you like?"

More than anything, Kian wanted him to finish his

sentence! What did Paul want? A second chance at a restroom

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interlude? Perhaps he wanted Kian to slip beneath the table
and drink from his cock?

"Kian?"
His fire was about to burn out of control, and it was all he

could do to keep his magic hidden. "Could you choose for
me?"

Paul raised an eyebrow, looked down at the menu again.

"My friend will have ... the pan-seared Chilean sea bass on
star fruit."

Kian smiled and, for the first time in his life, forgot about

sex for a few moments. "That sounds delightful."

He closed the menu and handed it to the waiter,

dismissing him with a nod. "Let's hope you enjoy the taste as
much as the sound."

"I'm sure I will." He twisted his hands into the tablecloth

as he watched Paul sip from his wine glass. Those lips
reignited his fire. "Paul? What were you about to say before
the waiter arrived?"

"What? Oh." He set his glass on the table. "I'd like to learn

more about incubi, if you don't mind."

Kian released the tablecloth, elated that the human was

curious about his kind. "What would you like to know?"

Paul was quiet a moment, and Kian knew him well enough

to wait patiently and allow him to consider his words.

"You don't steal the breath of humans?"
Kian chuckled. "No."
In a very lawyer-like fashion, Paul rested his elbows on the

table and steepled his hands together. "But you feed on my
sexual energy?"

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His smile faded. "Yes."
"In the essays I've been reading, those visited by incubi at

night are left drained and weak in the morning. Many die."

The idea that Paul had researched him brought warmth,

but the things he'd found did not. "Sometimes, a young
incubus cannot control his powers. Accidents happen, but it is
very rare."

"You said you gorged yourself on me our first night

together, but I didn't feel drained the morning after. I wasn't
even tired."

Kian rubbed at his chest, swollen thick with muscle. "You

have so much, Paul. I've come to believe that I could not
drain you, even if I tried."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"
His breath caught. He hadn't expected so blunt a question,

and he chose his answer carefully. "I ... I've wanted to, more
often than I should. But I've never taken the life of another.
Zakai says I am too gentle, even in vengeance."

Paul's face remained calm, his eyes intent. Kian could not

read him at all. "Zakai?"

"M-My friend. Another incubus."
"How many of you are there in the world?"
His gaze dropped to the pristine white tablecloth. "It is

hard to say. A few thousand, perhaps. More young ones than
old—the youthful tend to forget that being immortal does not
mean they are invincible. Zakai and our king are older than I
am." He traced a pattern on the cloth. "I think they are the
only ones."

"You have a king? A system of government?"

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He shook his head. "He does not rule, though we all follow

him. They say he's the First, and I believe he is. Darius is
wise and kind. He is my friend. But..."

"But?"
He swallowed the lump in his throat. "No one has seen him

in many years. I've called for him, but he will not answer.
Zakai says that he will come when we need him, and yet..."
He stopped, forced himself to say the words he'd never
uttered aloud. Not even to Zakai. "I fear he might be gone
forever."

A gentle brush of fingers against his jaw startled Kian into

looking up. Paul's expression had not changed, but somehow
it held tenderness. "It's alright," he said. "We can talk about
something else. Anything you want."

Paul did not try to placate his grief with false hope. He

merely accepted it and sought to alleviate Kian's pain. "I wish
to answer more of your questions. Ask me another."

He lowered his hand to cover Kian's. "I do have another ...

issue. But it can wait."

Distracted by the warm touch, Kian glanced around,

caught the stares of the other patrons. Aware that many
humans were ill-at-ease when men showed their affection in
public, he met Paul's gaze. "Doesn't it make you
uncomfortable to have others watch us hold hands?"

"Why would it?" Paul intertwined their fingers. "I'm out at

work and with my family. It won't damage my life if I'm seen
on a date with a man."

Kian grinned, knowing that another man could easily spurn

such a display, and that Paul held his hand because he was

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secure with himself. The confidence was magnetic, and he
was forced to stifle yet another purr. "The things I want to do
to you right now."

His lips parted, but he didn't pull away. "You're an easy

date."

Kian laughed, attracting more attention and reveling in it.
When dinner arrived, he devoured the meal. His zeal drew

mild, interested glances from Paul, who ate with considerably
more dignity. But Kian couldn't help himself. The sea bass
had been seared to perfection; the star fruit beneath it was
an exquisite blend of crisp and tart and sweet.

And the wine! Paul had chosen a vintage that

complimented the fish and fruit superbly. He'd downed four
glasses and was pouring himself another when his human
broke their companionable silence.

"Do incubi get drunk?"
Kian took a long sip, closed his eyes to savor it. "It is

nearly impossible for one of my age."

"All the same, it's good that neither of us drove tonight."
His eyes flew open. "Paul, you are teasing me! I'd

wondered whether you had it in you."

He winked.
This playfulness was wildly seductive. Kian was just about

to drag him across the table when their waiter appeared. He
wanted to growl in frustration—the man had the worst timing
of any server he'd ever encountered.

"Mr. Somers, there's a call for you. You can take it in the

phone room."

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He glanced up in surprise. "For me?" How long had he

been using this surname? Less than a year? Who would know
to call him? And here, of all places. Even Zakai did not know
he was on a date.

"Yes, sir. If you'd please follow me."
A tremor of unease skittered up his spine as he removed

the napkin from his lap and placed it on the table. "I shall
return shortly."

Paul nodded, slipping from playful to curious.
Whoever was on the phone, Kian planned to berate them

severely for ruining his fun.

Once in the phone room, he discovered there was no call.

Only two men in dark suits. Kian spun, but the waiter had
already fled.

"You're Kian Somers?"
He turned, cautious as he surveyed the two men. They

didn't give off the sort of energy that indicated substantial
magical power, but his encounter with Asher Croft had taught
him that one could not always be certain. "You know who I
am, or you would not have laid this trap."

"Whoa there." The taller one raised his hands. "We're not

here to attack you. We're just messengers."

"Oh? And what is your message?"
"Richard Davis would like you to join him for dinner

tomorrow."

For a moment, his vision went red. "Tell him the answer is

no."

The men glanced at each other, then back at him. "We're

also supposed to tell you that he just wants to have a

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conversation. He has an offer that you're free to accept or
decline."

His hands curled into fists. "I decline."
"Sir," said the smaller man, "you haven't even heard his

offer. After what you did to him, the least you can do is..."

"What I did to him?" He growled, causing both of them to

fall back a step. "Tell that despicable, impotent wizard that he
will never again taste my fire."

One of them began to argue, only to be halted by the

other. "Very well, sir. We'll deliver the message."

The two men flickered and vanished. Kian frowned.
Iliam.
Magical creatures that always, always delivered their

messages. No wonder they'd been able to find him—they
could find anyone. But they never divulged the location of the
target to the sender, so Richard Davis did not actually know
where he was.

Small blessing.
He opened the door, saw his waiter standing just outside.
The young man turned his head and grinned. "Hey, did you

have a good..."

Kian grabbed his shirt, yanked him in before slamming the

door behind them. "Why would you trick me into this room?"

"I-It wasn't a trick." His eyes widened as he looked

around. "Where did those guys go?"

"Never mind that." Kian thrust him against a wall. "What is

your name?"

"A-Anthony, sir."

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Kian tightened his grip, and dropped the barrier cloaking

his magic. "Anthony," he all but purred, "you saw the man I
was dining with?"

His skin flushed as his blood heated. "Yeah."
"He is handsome, yes?"
Anthony jumped. "I-I'm not gay."
Kian leaned close, brushed his nose against the young

man's cheek. "Regardless, you can recognize his beauty, can
you not?"

Tentatively, Anthony slid his hands up Kian's arms. "He's

... He's very handsome."

The anger within him sent jagged, searing shards of magic

into the other man. "Then why would you engage in such
deception and draw me away from him? What did those men
give you that was worth breaking such an intimate moment?"

Anthony whimpered. Kian knew the barbed desire within

the man had grown painful, but he was past caring.

"They slipped me fifty dollars."
"Money?" Kian's rage intensified, enveloped the human in

an inferno of sexual hunger. "You did this for money?"

He moaned, clutched at Kian's body.
Merciless, Kian grabbed his wrists and pinned them above

his head. "I should leave you in this state for the rest of your
life!" He pressed his other hand against Anthony's cock, found
it hard and desperate to be free of its confines. "You will
remain wanting, unable to achieve orgasm, forever."

"No!" cried Anthony, rubbing his crotch against Kian's

palm. "Please. I need..."

"I do not care what you need."

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Anthony wept against him, still trying to gain release.

"They said it was your birthday. They said they just wanted to
pull you away for a second, so they could give you a gift."

Kian's anger receded, and his hands fell away from the

waiter. "My birthday?"

The man fell to his knees, gasping for air. "I didn't think

they were bad guys. I swear I didn't!"

Kian had taken his tangle of emotions—pain, anger,

confusion—and directed it at the closest person responsible
for igniting the dark fire. But the one who had borne his wrath
was an innocent. "I'm sorry."

Anthony crawled forward, hugged Kian's legs. "Please," he

said, tears spilling down his face. "I need you."

He closed his eyes a moment, before touching his fingers

to the man's head.

Anthony's arms tightened as his body convulsed. He buried

his face in Kian's thigh, muffling his scream of ecstasy as he
climaxed.

Crouching down, Kian gathered the human's limp body into

his arms. "You should tell your supervisor that you are ill, and
you should go home. You'll need many hours of sleep."

"No," said Anthony, snuggling close to him. "I want to stay

with you."

Kian hissed at the damage he'd done. "I daresay you'll

crave a ... firmer touch to ignite your arousal from now on."
He threaded his fingers through Anthony's hair. "But you are
fortunate that such people are not difficult to find."

"You're the only one who can make me feel this way. I

know it!"

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Such eagerness. Before Paul, he would not have hesitated

to give this one pleasure. "You are wrong. If you do as I say,
if you go home and restore your energies, I'll send you
another who will do even more wondrous things to your
body."

"But..."
Kian touched his fingers to Anthony's forehead, sent him

images of Zakai. It was much like sending an erotic dream,
and it was possible because—for the moment—the man's
body was highly sensitized to incubi magic. "Do you not find
him desirable?"

"But I'm not ga..."
Kian stripped the images of clothing.
The waiter gasped as his eyes rounded, darkened with

arousal.

Smiling, Kian removed his fingers. "Tell me where you live,

and I'll send him to you."

Anthony straightened, wiped the moisture from his face. "I

don't understand why I feel..."

"I know," he said gently. "It will pass. Just allow yourself

to explore new pleasures for a while."

Taking a shuddering breath, he nodded and haltingly told

Kian his address. Kian helped him to his feet, watched as he
staggered out of the room. Zakai's words echoed within his
mind.

You have a touch about you when you're angry that stays

with a person.

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Would his touch stay with this human? How could he have

done such a thing without gathering all the facts first?

What would Paul think of him?
He knew better than to ask, but he found himself leaving

the phone room, intending to do just that.

Paul looked him over when he returned to the table.

"What's wrong? Who was on the phone?"

Their dinners had been taken away. Kian took his seat and

stared down at the tablecloth, too ashamed to meet Paul's
gaze. "Someone ... Someone from my past."

"Oh?"
"An unpleasant someone."
"This person is harassing you?"
Kian wrapped his fingers around the stem of his wine

glass, but he no longer wished to experience the pleasures of
food or drink. "Yes."

"Would you like me to help you?"
He lifted his head, looked into Paul's calm eyes. "How can

you help me?"

His mouth crooked. "I am a lawyer."
Kian wanted to smile at his naivety, wanted to shower him

with kisses for his generosity. But first, he had to confess
things he'd always meant to hide from this human.

"Paul, you asked me before if I'd ever killed someone."
Sobering, the lawyer rested his forearms on the table.

"What sort of trouble are you in, Kian?"

"I'm not in any trouble," he said softly. "And I've never

killed anyone. But ... I've burned people."

"Burned?"

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Kian stared at his palm. "I've used my fire to inflict pain.

On several occasions."

Paul took his hand, lowered it to the table. "I don't

understand. Your touch is intense, but it doesn't actually
burn..."

"With you, I only wish to give pleasure. But there have

been others that I've only wanted to hurt. And some..." Kian
turned his head, saw Anthony depart the restaurant. "Some
did not deserve to be hurt."

A light caress against his wrist drew Kian's attention back

to his lover.

"Give me facts," said Paul. "Start with the ones who didn't

deserve it. Physical damage?"

He shook his head.
"Permanent damage?"
His brow furrowed. "I do not believe so."
Paul released his hand and leaned back in his chair.

"Everyone hurts people who don't deserve it. Look at how
many times I've hurt you."

The few times he'd felt pain with Paul ... were those

comparable to what he'd made Anthony feel just now?

"Kian, you forgave me, didn't you?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
Paul smiled. "And you're a lot more likable than I am. I'm

sure you were forgiven, too."

Kian could not imagine anyone more likable than the man

across from him. "And what of the others?"

"Physical damage?"
Kian's voice went soft. "Sometimes."

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Surprise flickered over his features. "Permanent damage?"
He nodded.
Paul watched him in silence for several moments. "Are we

talking about the guy who chained you down?"

Flashes of his imprisonment threatened to break him, but

Kian kept them at bay. "I've hurt him the most, I think.
Although much of the pain he endured was a result of his
spell shattering."

Paul rubbed the nape of his neck.
Was their relationship over? Kian wouldn't blame him if he

made the decision to end it—what human would want a
dangerous creature in his bed?—but he truly did not want it
to end.

"What exactly do you want from me?" asked Paul, glancing

up. "Are you asking for legal advice?"

His breath caught. "No."
"Then what?"
"I wish..." Kian swallowed. "I wish to stay with you."
The lawyer's voice tightened. "That might not be possible if

this man presses charges against you. We could argue self-
defense, but it won't likely work since you hurt him after you
were free. Not to mention that you no longer have any scars
to prove what he did to you."

There was a great deal of emotion beneath Paul's smooth

surface, but Kian could not fathom what it might be. "He'll not
press charges. Different laws apply to us."

"What laws?"
"Magical ones."

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Paul pinched the bridge of his nose. "Have you broken any

magical laws?" he whispered.

"No."
"You're sure? Because I have no way to research this."
Kian finally recognized this intensity. "You're worried about

me."

His hand fell away from his face, revealing sapphire eyes

demanding an answer.

"Yes," said Kian, fighting the urge to gulp. "I'm sure."
A subtle tension eased from his expression. "Then there's

no reason you can't stay with me, right?"

The fire within Kian filled his chest, spread to every part of

his body. He had never experienced such a glow before, and
it pushed him forward as he began to crawl over the table.

"Sir?"
Kian growled. "Anthony, I told you to go..." He stopped

short, settled down when he saw a different waiter had
arrived with a small cart.

"I went ahead and ordered dessert," said Paul. "I hope you

don't mind."

The new waiter nervously set a plate before Kian.
"What is this?" he asked, glancing up at the waiter.
He set a plate of fruit in front of Paul. "A fresh baked

brownie topped with a scoop of Dutch chocolate ice-cream,
drizzled with hot fudge sauce."

Kian's mouth watered as his gaze shot to Paul. "Truly?"
A faint smile curved his lips. "They didn't have your

favorite ice-cream—this was the closest I could convince them
to make."

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This time, the purr that rumbled through Kian's body was

impossible to stifle. "I'll give you rapture tonight."

The smile faded, and Paul's voice softened. "You always

do."

* * * *

Paul collapsed on the bed, gasping for air. The fire inside

him dissipated a little, but his skin still burned; his muscles
were totally spent.

Kian crawled up his body, kissing Paul's stomach, his

chest, his cheek, his lips. "How virile you are." He lifted his
head, and shimmering eyes stared down at him. "I've never
known a human to give himself up to me so thoroughly
before. What has come over you?"

It took several more deep breaths before Paul could find

his voice. "Was trying to exhaust myself."

Kian stroked the sweat from his forehead. "Why was that

your goal?"

"I want you to send me a dream."
His hand stilled. "Really?"
Paul ran his hands up Kian's thick chest; his palms tingled

with the contact. "Usually I can't control when I fall asleep.
It'll be easier to coordinate things this way, right?"

The hand on his forehead slid to his cheek. "Why have you

changed your mind?"

He hesitated, answered honestly. "I want to give you what

I can."

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A soft, cooing sound flowed from Kian's mouth. "You've

given me so much. I had no right to ask more from you, and
you are under no obligation to indulge me."

Paul slipped his arms around him, urged Kian to rest some

of his weight on top of his body. "Will it bring us closer?"

The incubus seemed surprised by the question, even as his

eyes shimmered brighter. "I-It might."

"Then I'd like to try." He ignored the ice that touched his

nerves when he said the words. There was nothing dangerous
about a dream.

Kian smiled and rolled to the side. "Close your eyes."
Already, he could feel a foreign presence caressing the

edges of his consciousness. "Wait," he said, grabbing hold of
Kian's forearm.

The presence receded. "Yes?"
Paul couldn't shake his uneasiness. "You said you could

slip in with me if my body was charged with enough sexual
energy. Did we accomplish that?" His gaze dipped as his voice
dropped. "Could you come with me?"

Chuckling, Kian gathered him into a warm embrace,

hooked his leg over Paul's as he fitted their bodies together.
"As you wish. Now, close your eyes."

It felt safer with the incubus holding him, so Paul closed

his eyes. He felt himself slip away as Kian surrounded his
mind and body. Almost instantly, there was more warmth,
then brightness. A cool breeze brushed over his skin, and he
became aware of the rustle of leaves, the faint chirp of birds.

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His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself lying

outdoors on a bed of soft grass. He sat up, his heart skipping
a beat when he saw that he was alone. "Kian?"

The incubus faded in before him. "I'm here."
His nerves settled, and he looked around. Tall trees

reached for a flawless blue sky. A stone path skirted a pond
framed with wooden benches. The air smelled fresh as the
breeze wafted over him. It was a park, but he'd never been to
one so storybook perfect. "This is a dream?"

"It is quite different from your usual visions, I'm sure." He

pointed to the horizon. "Look, there is the evidence."

In the distance, Paul could see tendrils of pale mist curling

at the edges of this picturesque scene. That part was familiar,
at least. But dreaming had never been like this: so open, so
... relaxed. "What do we do now?"

Kian crawled forward. "Anything you wish."
"Anything?" He met Kian's gaze. "What's the point of this

dream? How will we wake up?"

He smiled. "We'll awaken when you are ready to awaken."
Rising to his feet, Paul looked around again. He couldn't

stop himself from looking for the start of a maze. "You
created this place?"

"Yes."
"Why outside?"
Kian hopped up. "Every time I try to have sex with you

beyond your home, someone arrives to interrupt us. This
way, we can join together in peace."

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Noticing the light sweater and simple slacks worn by the

incubus, Paul fingered the silk tie around his own neck. "And
the suit?"

Shimmering eyes couldn't distract from an engaging blush.

"I find your suits erotic."

The unexpected compliment made Paul laugh. "Really?"
Kian raised his hands, trailed his fingers over the fabric.

"You are so ... regal. In the way you carry yourself, the way
you dress. I feel as if I have the privilege of bedding a prince
when we're together." He lowered his head, brushed his lips
over Paul's. "Yet you have a sweet, wild fire within you. That's
why I find your suits erotic, because I am the only one who
knows what is underneath."

Paul closed his eyes to accept the kiss. Never in his life

had he felt so close to another person, so cherished, as if he
were at the center of someone's world. Except once, long ago
... That person had cherished him, not in the same way as
Kian, but just as deeply.

Strange feelings began to unfurl inside of him.
A feminine voice drifted to him on the breeze.
He pulled away from the incubus. "Did you hear that?"
Kian straightened, tilted his head as he listened. "The

birds?"

"No, just under the birds." Paul took a few steps toward

the sound. "It sounds like..."

The park darkened, as if a cloud had slid over the sun. The

birdsong faded, but the voice didn't come any clearer. The
tone and rhythm was so familiar, and he could almost make
out the words from that alone.

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"Paul?"
"Shh." He focused, tried to understand.
The sun dimmed several degrees at once, jarring Paul's

attention enough to make him look at Kian. "What are you
doing? Why are you removing the light?"

Kian shook his head, his eyes wide. "This is not my doing."

Even in those cold, dark corners...

Paul spun to face the encroaching darkness. "Tell me you

heard that."

"No, Paul." Concern muted his voice. "I hear nothing."
The grass under his feet gave way to concrete. "What's..."

... hidden in dreams...

The trees in the distance vanished, and a building arose

where they'd been planted. There was something ominous
about that structure. And familiar. He heard the footsteps of a
woman's shoes, and suddenly he knew what was about to
happen.

... this fire...

"No!" he shouted, dropping to his knees. "Get us out of

here!"

Kian rushed to his side, wrapped his arms around him.

"Paul, what is..."

... will burn forever.

"Get me the hell out of here!" Razor-sharp pain sliced into

his hand, but he ignored it. "Now!"

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Kian's arms tightened, and everything went black.

* * * *

Paul bolted upright and scrambled out of the bed. He didn't

know where he was going; he just knew he needed to get
away.

"Paul!" Kian ran after him.
Unable to think through his panic, Paul flung open the door

to his bedroom. Stinging ice combined with liquid warmth in
his palm, and he stared down at his hand in shock. "Blood."

"You're injured? Let me see!"
He turned, cradled his hand against his chest. "Stay back!"
Kian's gaze locked onto his wound. "Paul, allow me to heal

you."

His fingers curled into a wet fist. "How did I get this?"
The incubus reached for him, and Paul jumped back,

hitting the doorframe. Kian hesitated, then fell still. "Some
people—a very few—can sustain injuries within a dream."

"You knew," said Paul, disbelieving. "You knew this could

happen, and you didn't warn me."

"I-I never thought it would happen with us." He edged

closer. "Not while I was in control."

"You weren't in control!" Paul slid down to the floor,

desperately trying to shut out the riddle that whispered in his
head over and over. "And now I'm bleeding."

Kian crouched before him, reaching out again. "Please..."
"Don't touch me."

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He flinched as if he'd been hit. "I'm sorry. If I'd known ...

Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. It was not
one of my visions."

"It was one of mine," whispered Paul, as blood trickled out

of his fist, dripped onto his naked skin.

Kian eased to the floor. "What did it mean?"
He glanced away.
"Paul?"
"It's nothing." He shuddered as images flooded his mind—

a knife on the ground, an empty parking lot, and ... and...

Kian dipped his head, caught his gaze. "Tell me what

you..."

"It's nothing!" Paul curled forward, still holding his hand

against his chest. He felt young, vulnerable ... raw.

What was happening to him?
Kian closed his fingers around Paul's wrist. "Please let me

heal you. Before the magic in your wound has a chance to
set."

Paul snatched his hand free. "I told you not to touch me."
Kian gasped, and his voice dulled as he rose to his feet.

"Very well."

Paul's head shot up when he realized he was about to be

alone. "Wh-Where are you going?"

Stopping short, Kian stared down at him. "You've made it

clear you wish me to leave."

"No..." It's dark! his mind screamed. Please don't leave!

"That's not what I want."

Confusion shaped Kian's features. "You will not allow me to

touch you. To heal you."

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"Because I can't be aroused." His breath hitched. "Not

now."

"Then..." Kian ran a hand through his copper hair. "Tell me

how to help you."

The incubus needed to help. To make sure he stayed, Paul

could give him that. "Get me a tie."

He frowned. "A tie?"
"There's a rack of them in my closet."
For a second, Paul thought he would argue, but then he

crossed the room. After a moment of searching, Kian returned
with a blue silk tie. "Is this acceptable?"

"That's fine." Paul took it, wrapped it around his bleeding

hand and cinched it tight.

Kian's eyes rounded as he watched. "That is why you

needed it? You should have told me! I would have chosen a
lesser one."

Some of Paul's panic left him, and his head dropped

against the doorframe. "It's just a tie. It doesn't matter."

"Paul..." Kian sank to the floor beside him. "What else can

I do?"

"Just sit with me." Paul met his gaze, and more of his

anxiety slipped out of him. "Please."

Kian swallowed, eased closer until only a few inches

separated them. "Alright. Perhaps if you share your vision..."

"I can't. I don't remember it."
They both knew it was a lie, but Kian didn't press him. He

only sat, and watched.

Kian needed Paul to be open, and he'd tried, but he

couldn't share this. Not with an incubus, not with anyone. In

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that dream, he'd touched the knife that killed his mother. It
was so clear that he'd thought it was her blood on his hand
when he opened his eyes, like a long-dead memory come
back to haunt him. Except it couldn't be a memory.

Because he'd been fast asleep when his mother died.

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Chapter Twelve

Paul knocked on the door to Asher's office. "Do you have a

moment?"

He glanced up from behind his desk and grinned. "Sure.

What's up?"

Not wanting to be overheard, Paul walked in and closed

the door behind him. "I have a favor to ask."

"A favor?" Asher closed the file he'd been studying and set

it aside. "Okay."

Paul stopped short. "You're agreeing? Just like that?"
His easy smile warmed. "You've never asked me a favor

before, so it must be important. Of course I'd agree. What is
it?"

He leaned back against the door, coming to a conclusion it

had taken him years to draw. "You're my best friend."

Surprise flitted over Asher's features before he chuckled.

"Thanks, man. You're mine, too."

The possibility that his newfound sentiment could be

mutual hadn't occurred to Paul. "Am I? You have so many
friends."

"Trust me. I've got no one like you." Asher rested his

forearms on the desk. "What's the favor?"

Stifling a yawn, Paul allowed himself to rub his eyes. "I've

been nodding off all morning, and I'd like to go to the coffee
shop down the street for a while to see if that helps."

The smile slipped from Asher's face. "Tired? Maybe you

should go home. Get some rest."

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Every night, it was the same ordeal. "I don't get much rest

at home anymore," murmured Paul, crossing his arms over
his chest as he thought about the last couple of weeks.

The other lawyer's eyes flashed emerald. "Late nights?"
It surprised Paul to see that spark of anger—he'd never

known Asher to lose his temper. "I think I could shake off this
fatigue if I had a couple of hours to myself," he said, avoiding
the question. "But I have the Waverly deposition at two, and I
was hoping you would cover for me."

Asher watched him a long moment before his usual cheery

self reemerged. "Anna Waverly? The hot heiress?"

Paul smiled and nodded.
Tipping back in his chair, Asher linked his hands behind his

head and propped his feet up on his desk. "What a hardship,"
he said on a dramatic sigh. "I'll do my best to get through it."

The other lawyer always managed to brighten a room. Paul

had never appreciated what an asset such levity was within a
demanding law firm, but now he was grateful for it. "My
secretary is holding the file for you. The top three pages
comprise an outline of what you need to cover and what you
should watch for. It's fairly standard, and I trust your
instincts to handle the rest."

Asher winked. "I won't let you down. What time are you

planning to come back?"

"No later than three o'clock." Any other attorney at the

firm would find a way to use Paul's break—however short—
against him while stealing away his client. But Paul had
always felt he'd known Asher all his life, and he trusted him.
"Thank you."

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"No problem. I hope the coffee helps."
Paul left the office, hoping silently that it would, too.
The coffee shop was only a block away from the firm, and

he let the cold, crisp air clear his head. A bell rang against the
top of the door when he walked in, and the familiar scent of
coffee beans wafted up to him.

"Hey, handsome! What're you doing here in the middle of

the day?"

Paul smiled at the young woman who took his order every

morning. "Hello, Jenny. Just taking a short break."

She beamed at him, bouncing on the heels of her feet.

"Well, it's a nice surprise. The usual? Double espresso?"

"Actually..." Paul looked up at the menu. "I'd like to try

something sweet."

"Sweet? Seriously?"
Was it really so surprising? He lowered his gaze to meet

hers. "Could you recommend a drink?"

"Me?" A blush colored her cheeks. "I like the vanilla-mocha

swirl."

"Alright, I'll have that." He focused on the blush,

wondering what had caused it. "A tall vanilla-mocha swirl."

She plucked a cup from a stack, wrote the order on it, and

set it on a counter behind her. "Crowd's light this time of day,
so it should be ready in a minute or two."

He reached into his pocket. "How much do I owe you?"
Jenny leaned forward on the counter, smiling up at him.

"On the house."

"No charge? Why?"
"Because you're trying something sweet."

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He didn't understand that, but slid his wallet back into his

pocket. "Thank you, Jenny."

"You know, Paul," she pushed herself up, brought her face

a few inches from his, "I'm sweet, too."

Surprised, he fell back a step. "I-I've noticed."
She giggled and settled back onto her feet. "Then why

haven't you asked me out?"

His eyes widened. "I was supposed to ask you out?"
A full, sexy pout shaped her lips. "I've been battin' my

eyes at you for two years. Well..." Her pout turned shy. "At
you and Asher. Asher flirts, but he never does anything more
than that."

That didn't sound like Asher. "I'm sure he'd ask you out on

a date if you told him how you felt."

She tilted her head to the side and, although the action

was cute, it reminded him of Kian. "I'm telling you now. Will
you ask me?"

"I..." He hadn't even known the girl liked him. "I'm sorry.

I'm in a relationship."

Relationship. It was the first time he'd said the word aloud

to someone other than Kian, and it felt ... warm.

Jenny's gaze dipped to the counter. "Of course you are."
Normally, he would have walked away from her then. But

he found himself wanting to make things better. "Asher is
available, as far as I know."

She glanced up, her eyebrow cocked. "Tryin' to unload me

on your friend?"

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Suddenly, he wished Asher were here. In attempting to

deviate from his pattern of behavior, he'd put his foot right
into his mouth. "That's not what I meant at..."

Jenny laughed. "I'm just teasin' ya, Paul." She spun,

retrieved his drink, and handed it to him. "And this is still on
the house."

Paul tried not to let his relief show as he took the cup and

went to take a seat by the window. He held the beverage in
his hands a long moment, letting it warm his palms. When he
began to nod off, he took a cautious sip.

Sweet. Too sweet.
If Kian were here, he would have chosen something more

to Paul's liking. The incubus had gotten good at that in the
past weeks, despite Paul's reluctance to 'tell him things' since
the nightmare about his mother.

He sighed, took another sip. It was just a dream, and

dreams had no power, no real meaning. He'd been having
trouble sleeping lately, but it was obviously some sort of
phase. Paul had never been in a serious relationship before,
and this was just his subconscious's way of adjusting. Why
couldn't Kian understand that?

Maybe because Paul couldn't quite believe it.

* * * *

The entrance to the labyrinth loomed before him: a tall,

wrought iron gate crowned with an overthrow twisted into the
shape of a scorpion. The maze itself was made of high, grey
stone. The black sky above made the scene all the more
bleak.

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A cold, bitter wind rushed through the gate, enveloped

him, tried to pull him forward.

"Wait," whispered Paul, digging in his feet. "I don't want to

go in there."

This labyrinth had been calling to him every night, and

every night he'd fought against entering. It was the first time
he'd ever tried to stand back from a maze. Now, as the wind
whipped and howled around him, he wondered if he even had
a choice.

The trees just behind the front walls of the maze swayed

forward, their stripped branches reaching for him.

"Help!" he shouted over the wind, dropping to his knees.
"Paul..."
The branches grew longer, grazed his hands as he lifted

his arms to protect his face.

"Paul! Wake up!"

* * * *

He shot straight in his chair, shoving at the table so hard

that he tipped himself backward.

Asher grabbed his hand, his face tight as he pulled Paul

back into a safe position. "Easy, I've got you."

The front legs of Paul's chair settled on the ground, but he

couldn't understand what was going on. "The trees! The
wind."

Asher's skin paled, but he didn't let go of his hand. "It was

a dream. You're in the coffee shop, remember?"

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The coffee shop? He looked around at the other tables, at

the counter, at the people staring at him with concern or
wariness. He looked at Asher again, and began to calm down.

It was just a dream.
"What ... What are you doing here?"
Asher smiled. "It's four-thirty. I was worried about you."
That smile couldn't hide the strain in the other man's face,

even from Paul, who didn't usually pick up on more subtle
emotions. "Are you alright?"

He chuckled, gave Paul's hand a squeeze before releasing

it. "I should be asking you that."

Paul stared at his cup, at the plastic lid covering it. He

couldn't even remember if he'd finished his coffee before
falling asleep. "I'm fine."

"You're not. I can feel it."
He glanced up. "You can?"
Jenny cautiously approached, stood awkwardly by the

table. "Paul? You okay?"

He stared at her, unsure how to respond.
Asher, his voice deceptively cheerful, spoke for him. "The

guy's been working too hard. Fell asleep right at the table.
Can you believe it?"

The look on her face told them she couldn't. "You fell

asleep? At a coffee shop?"

"That's where dedication gets you." Asher winked at her.

"You'd never catch me nodding off with so much pretty
scenery around."

Jenny giggled, patted Paul's shoulder, and walked back to

her station.

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Paul exhaled a soft breath. "Thank you."
"Anytime." His bright eyes grew intent as they focused on

him. "That nightmare really shook you up, didn't it?"

"It's nothing."
"Oh, come on, Paul." He grinned. "I'm your best friend,

remember?"

His best friend. Could he...
Crossing his forearms on the table, Paul dropped his head

on top of them. God, he was tired. He just wanted to go
home to Kian and tell him about these dreams.

But the incubus was always admiring his 'perfection.' He

didn't want Kian to think something was wrong with him.

"Asher..." He shuddered. "I think I might be losing my

mind."

"Why?"
The gentle question brought tears to his eyes, so he didn't

lift his head as he spoke. "I've never had the same dream
more than once. Not since..." No, don't think about that. "Not
since I was a child. But, for the last couple of weeks, I've
been having a nightmare that gets more intense every time I
dream it."

"What's the dream about?"
Another shudder went through him. "It's dark and cold. It

tries to suck me in, but it feels dangerous there. As if walking
through the gate could mean never waking up."

"It scares you."
It wasn't a question, or even a suggestion. Asher said it as

if he knew it. "Y-Yes."

"Does it feel like an attack?"

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His head shot up. With a few words, the other lawyer had

defined the gnawing sensation inside of him. "Yes," he
whispered.

Asher blew out a hard breath.
"Do you think I'm crazy?" asked Paul.
"No," he said immediately. "This thing you're going

through ... It sounds like a trial. A test of your power and
skill."

Paul frowned. "My power?"
"You're a strong guy, Paul." He leaned forward. "I'm sure

that strength carries over into your dreams."

He straightened, thinking about that. "Do you believe what

I am when I'm awake has influence over what happens when
I'm asleep?"

"It must. Dreams are everything we are—our hopes, fears,

passions. It's all there, waiting to be accessed, waiting to be
used and understood. Your knowledge and skills don't vanish
just because you're asleep, right?"

"Right," he said softly. If he discounted the feeling of

foreboding it elicited, this latest dream was just like any other
maze. Inside there would be puzzles to solve, riddles to
answer. "Do you think it works in reverse?" Paul rubbed the
palm of his hand. "Do you think what happens in a dream can
carry over into real life?"

Asher paused, then traced a circle on the table with his

finger. "It's a cycle. You take something in. You learn, you
grow. You take something new out."

Paul managed a smile. "You sound like you know what

you're talking about."

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He shrugged. "I read a lot."
"I've seen your caseload. When do you have time to read

for fun?"

Asher's voice turned teasing. "You've got a new boyfriend,

don't you? How do you make time for him?"

Paul felt a blush creep into his skin.
Chuckling, Asher relaxed in his chair. "And what's this

about telling Cute Coffee Girl that I'm available? I walked in
here and she was asking me out."

"Don't you like her?" He glanced at Jenny, who was wiping

down a counter. "She's pretty. And sweet."

Asher's smile faded. "She is, at that."
All at once, Paul realized—although Asher flirted with

women all the time—he'd never actually seen him with one
for more than a day or two. Asher had a reputation as a
ladies' man, but he thought that Jenny's description might be
more accurate. "Asher? Why..."

"We'd better get back to work." He stood. "Right now, our

secretaries are covering for the both of us, and it's only a
matter of time before someone realizes neither of us are
there. With our luck, it'll be Riker."

The thought of being caught playing truant by Stephen

Riker was enough to make him forget his train of thought,
and Paul rose to his feet. "How did the Waverly deposition
go?"

"Went off without a hitch. I'll fill you in on the way."
Paul picked up his drink, surprised to find that it was still

full. He must have fallen asleep shortly after sitting down, and
the idea disconcerted him. He flexed his hand. Kian had

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healed it long ago—taking him by surprise and doing it in the
middle of a scorching orgasm—but he'd swear it still ached.

Despite Asher's assurances, he began to doubt he had any

power at all.

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Chapter Thirteen

"Iliam?" Zakai shuddered. "Those creatures make my skin

crawl."

"Why is that?" asked Kian, staring out at the East River. It

was peaceful here, atop the Brooklyn Tower. Large, white
snowflakes floated down from the sky, clinging to his lashes
and clothing, muffling the sound of the cars racing along the
bridge. If he brought Paul here and held him against the
warmth of his own body, would the human have an
untroubled night?

Zakai walked along one of the cables, unaffected by the

slippery surface as he looked down at the traffic below them.
"From the moment Iliam are born, they live for one purpose
and one purpose only: to deliver those damned messages.
Back and forth, back and forth. You don't find that the least
bit creepy?"

Kian lifted his head. "They are not so different from us, I

think. Don't our lives revolve around one thing?"

He snorted and spun on the cable. "We are creatures of

consummate depth, Kian! Although it does nothing to sate
your hunger, you enjoy sampling gourmet food, and I..."
Zakai paused, his brow furrowing.

A slow smile formed on Kian's mouth. "And you?"
His face cleared as he raised his hand. "And I find great

joy in video games."

Kian burst into laughter.

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"Now, that is a sound I've been waiting to hear all night,"

said Zakai, smiling at him.

"Ah," he replied, taking a deep breath. "I very sorely

needed it."

"Kian..." Zakai folded his arms over his chest. "I don't

want to dampen your mood, but we should talk about the
message delivered to you by the Iliam."

At the moment, he was more worried about Paul. "A dinner

invitation and an offer, both of which I declined. What is there
to discuss?"

Zakai blew out a frustrated breath. "Why are you so

unconcerned? This man chained you to the floor for three
years!"

"I do not care about one emasculated wizard!" he shouted.

"There are things more important!"

Stopping short, the other incubus tilted his head to the

side. "Davis's message is not what put you in this melancholy,
is it?"

"No. I've shared that incident with you tonight, but

otherwise I've scarcely given it a thought."

Zakai leapt, landed in a crouch beside him. "Is it your

human, then? Has his luster begun to fade?"

"His luster will never fade."
"But it must," said Zakai, his voice gentle as he leaned

forward. "He's mortal, and dying, even as we speak."

Kian glanced away. "He does not have to die. If I ... If I

cycle my power throughout his body, I can continuously heal
him and keep him from aging. If I keep him long enough,
then he will forget how to grow old."

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Zakai gripped his jaw and forced his gaze forward. "This

you cannot do."

"Why not?" He pulled his head from Zakai's hand. "Darius

said it was possible."

"It may be possible, but it has never been done. Our

kind..." Zakai reached out, caressed his cheek. "It is not in
our natures to burn for one person."

"I burn only for Paul," whispered Kian.
"You have shared your fire with Paul for two months. A

transformation like the one you wish to induce takes
centuries."

Kian's voice firmed. "Then centuries it shall be."
"Think this through." Zakai shook his head, his golden

eyes burning bright. "If you lose interest in this man as soon
as five years from now, it could mean a slow and painful
death for him as his body attempts to regain its humanity."

"I will not lose interest in him." Kian rubbed his chest,

trying to identify the ache that had formed there. "I cannot ...
I can no longer imagine a life without Paul in it."

"And what if he does not wish to be immortal?"
He gasped at the suggestion. "Not wish to be immortal?

But there are so many delights I can show him! Given time, I
can learn his secrets, and then I will have the power to make
him happy." He imagined Paul growing old, withering away,
and his body shook with the horror of it. His vision, his very
fire, began to dim. "My sweet..."

"Kian!" Zakai grabbed his shoulders. "He's not dead yet."
Wide-eyed, Kian stared at his lifelong friend. "What ...

What just happened?"

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"The thought of being without Paul almost smothered your

fire." He threaded his fingers through Kian's hair. "This
human means so much to you?"

Kian fell against him, hugged him tight. "So much."
"Then why aren't you with him tonight?"
His breath hitched. "Zakai, I fear I have damaged my

human."

Zakai held him close, stroked his back. "Damaged?"
"I-I drew him into what I meant to be an erotic dream. But

everything went wrong. He saw something, and it injured
him." He glanced up, looked into his friend's golden eyes.
"The injury carried over into his physical body."

Zakai hissed. "I imagine that is one of the burdens a

dream walker must bear. What did he see?"

"He would not share it with me." Kian thought of all the

times Paul had awakened in a cold sweat these past weeks.
"I've unlocked something dark, and now it plagues him. I told
him I would be gone tonight because I hoped he would be
able to rest in my absence. But if that proves to be the case
... then it means I cause him pain."

"And hurting Paul Graham is exactly what I told you not to

do, isn't it?"

Kian's head shot up, and his eyes rounded when he saw

who stood behind Zakai. "Asher."

Zakai leapt to his feet and spun, standing protectively in

front of Kian. "This young man is the heir to New York?" he
asked, his voice betraying his surprise at the sight of him.

The wizard—dressed very much like before in a t-shirt,

jeans, and long overcoat—slid his hands into his pockets. The

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drifting snow swirled away from his body when it neared him,
as if even it respected the power of the Croft Legacy. "It's
always nice when introductions aren't necessary. Things
usually go much smoother." He grinned. "But you don't plan
to make things easy for me, do you?"

Zakai took a fighting stance, and Kian jumped up.
"How did you find us?" asked Kian.
Asher's gaze touched on him before returning to Zakai.

"Every Guardian in my family has a seer. Mine's the best in
the world, and he'll track down anyone I ask him to."

"I hate Legacies," sneered Zakai.
"No you don't," said Asher, still smiling. "You're just

puffing yourself up, trying to look threatening."

"You really are an empath," whispered Kian.
Zakai stiffened. "Empath, wizard, heir to the Croft Legacy.

I don't care about any of it! You are not in your rights to harm
Kian."

Asher raised his forefinger. "First, he disobeyed me. That

gives me the right to do anything I want to him. Second..."

Zakai attacked.
Asher evaded his fist by spinning to the right, ducked to

avoid what would have been a crippling elbow to the face. He
straightened, his movements fluid and relaxed as he returned
his hands to his pockets. "You should stand down, incubus.
You're no match for me."

Enraged, Zakai lunged for him.
Sidestepping the incubus, Asher tipped his head back.

"What are you? Six-foot-three? Six-four? You must be feeding
whenever you get a chance to be this big."

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"Silence!" shouted Zakai, swinging at him.
The wizard's hands never left his pockets as he dodged

every punch thrown, every kick fired. Kian had never seen a
human being move with such speed, and the more Zakai
bombarded him, the easier Asher's evasions appeared.

Was he using magic to augment his body? If so, the

infusion of power was subtle, for Kian couldn't detect it. Asher
might not be a Croft by blood, but he possessed all of their
mastery.

And then some.
Asher's gaze never left Zakai, his emerald eyes sparkling

with amusement and interest. "You're pretty good. Where did
you pick up such complex combat skills?" He tipped his head
to the left, evading a lightning quick punch before leaning
close. "You guys are supposed to be lovers, not fighters."

"You know nothing about us!" Zakai executed a

roundhouse kick, and the wizard easily avoided it by arching
backward.

Asher straightened. "Do you have any idea what kind of

training it takes to become a Guardian?" He dodged another
blow. "I know plenty about you."

Roaring, Zakai swung at him with a vicious right hook.
This time, Asher didn't move.
The shield Kian had encountered before flashed a blinding

green when Zakai's fist collided with it. Emerald lightning shot
out from the point of contact, and Zakai recoiled, clutching his
hand to his chest.

"It's a different kind of fire, isn't it?" said Asher, smiling.
Zakai growled and leapt for another attack.

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One of Asher's hands finally left his pockets, and green

light arced out of his palm to band around Zakai's torso,
pinning his arms to his sides. "I'd love to play a little longer,
but I don't have time for this." He slammed Zakai onto his
back. "Try not to be a nuisance while I talk to your friend, got
it?"

Zakai bucked against the band of magic wrapped around

him, but Asher's arm only shook slightly as his palm poured
out a continuous stream of light.

"Zakai!" Kian rushed forward, preparing to use the one

offensive skill he possessed.

Asher turned his head, his face serious. "Stop right there."
Kian paused, then gritted his teeth as he filled his hands

with magic.

"I'm warning you, incubus. Even the two of you together

can't take me down. Wizard magic trumps incubi fire,
especially when that wizard's a Croft."

"Ungrateful wretch!" spat Zakai. "Your kind only wields

power because our blood flows through your veins!"

Asher glanced at the other incubus, the amusement

returning to his voice. "You believe that old wives' tale? You
must be close to two thousand years old—I'd think you'd
know better." Kian tried to draw closer and, without looking
at him, Asher raised his free hand in warning as he continued
his conversation with Zakai. "Wizards aren't a result of
incubi/human unions. I work with a cambion, and he's an ass
with no real power apart from his charm."

The statement surprised Kian enough that he forgot about

attack for a moment. "You know a halfling?" Memories

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pricked at him, and he grew curious. "Is it the lawyer called
Stephen Riker?"

"That's the one." Asher looked at Kian, studying him for a

long moment. "You must have met him the day you tried to
seduce Paul in the men's room."

"How did you know..."
"I'm an empath, remember? A sexual encounter in a law

firm's restroom is easy to pick up on."

A hot blush stained Kian's face.
Asher's mouth crooked. "Cute." He made a downward

motion with his hand. "Sit."

Glancing at Zakai, Kian reluctantly did as he was told.
Asher stood casually beside Zakai, pinning him to the

stone with emerald magic. "You disobeyed me, Kian. Despite
knowing who I am, despite knowing that I'd have no qualms
about enforcing my word."

It was the first time the wizard had ever addressed him by

name. Kian didn't know whether to have hope, or to be more
terrified. "Y-Yes."

"Why?"
Kian hugged himself, tried to accept his punishment with

dignity. "I ... I could not keep myself away." He thought of
these last weeks with his human, of the pleasure he derived
simply from being in the same room with him. "And he has
said he enjoys my presence, so I would not make a different
decision if given another chance." His voice dropped to a
whisper. "I would not."

"Scared, but resolute." Asher's gaze slid over him.

"Interesting."

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Kian swallowed.
Asher's arm jerked, and he glanced down at Zakai in

surprise. "You're burning through my restraint," he
murmured, surveying the dissolving band around the
incubus's body. "Kian isn't the only one who's interesting,
apparently."

A low growl rolled forth from the trapped incubus. "Leave

us be."

"Sorry, not in the plan." The light flowing out of his hand

intensified, and the band around Zakai expanded until it was
almost a foot thick. "Let's see if you can burn through that
before I'm finished with Kian."

"Please," said Kian. "Do not harm him. Zakai is only trying

to protect me the way he's always protected me."

"I get that." He pulled his hand away, cutting the stream

of magic and leaving Zakai to struggle with the new restraint.
"I can feel the bond between you two, and it's much stronger
than I would have expected from incubi. You'd die for each
other." His gaze sharpened. "Would you die for Paul?"

"You've no right to ask that of him!" shouted Zakai. "He's

broken no laws!"

Asher's gaze didn't leave Kian as a band of green magic

clamped over Zakai's mouth. "What part of 'try not to be a
nuisance' do you not understand?"

Kian gasped. The human had used no words or gestures to

cast that spell—such talent and skill was the mark of a
Warrior Class wizard, and an unspoken testament to the
extraordinary power Asher had at his command.

"I asked you a question, Kian."

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Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and prepared

himself. "Yes, I would die for Paul."

Asher's amused voice teased his eyes open. "Relax, I'm

not going to hurt you."

Cautious, Kian stared up at him. "You're not?"
He grinned. "Your friend cut me off when I tried to explain.

I didn't come here to punish you." Asher crouched before
him. "I do have a command for you, though. And there's no
disobeying this one, alright?"

No punishment? For disobeying a Guardian? "Wh-What is

it?"

"The next time you see Paul, you are to tell him he is a

dream walker, and you are to explain his powers to him."

His eyes widened. "But his shield of ignorance..."
"That rule only applies when the human's not in danger of

being harmed by magic. Paul's shield is no longer protecting
him, and he needs to know."

Kian felt a blade of ice slice into his chest. "Paul is in

danger?"

"His dreams have gone from calls for help to aggressive

summonings. He's strong enough to choose which quests to
take on, but not if he doesn't know that a choice is available."

His dreams were hurting him. And it was Kian's fault.

"After I tell him ... I must leave him?"

Asher shook his head. "You can stay with Paul as long as

he wants you."

Scarcely able to believe it, he leaned forward. "Truly?"
"You have my word as a Croft."

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It was common knowledge that no Croft ever broke his

word, but Kian couldn't comprehend it. "Before, you said..."

Asher chuckled. "Creatures and spell casters alike are

always trying to sink their teeth into Paul. To have a dream
walker with the power to affect change in the waking world is
a tasty prize, after all." He grinned. "What kind of friend
would I be if I didn't scare off the undesirables?"

He frowned in confusion. "I don't understand."
"That night, I knew you didn't mean Paul any harm, and I

knew you wanted him. But incubi don't exactly have a
reputation for sticking around under pressure, and so I put a
little pressure on you to see if you had what it took. To see if
your feelings were strong enough to defy even the Guardian
of New York."

It had all been a test? "You made it clear that you did not

want me near him."

Asher reached out, lightly tapped Kian's forehead with his

fingers. "Think, Kian. If I'd really wanted you out of his life,
would I have bothered with such long, drawn out
explanations? Would I have told you about his mother?"

"No," he answered softly, recalling what he knew of the

Croft Legacy. "You would have given me the order and been
done with it."

"Exactly. And you would have paid instantly for disobeying

me." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Personally, I wouldn't
have chosen an incubus for Paul, but you and your friend over
there," he glanced briefly over his shoulder, "aren't like any
incubi I've ever met, so I'm willing to give you a chance."

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A chance. To be with Paul. Kian's fire burned a bit brighter.

"Thank you."

Asher winked at him. "Make no mistake, though, I will put

you in a world of hurt if you fuck this up."

That combination of humor and ruthlessness spun Kian's

senses. "I-I will not."

"And you'll remember to tell him about dream walkers?"
A tremor of unease went through him. Although Paul was

accepting of Kian's magic, there was no predicting how the
lawyer might react to the knowledge that he had powers of
his own. "Must I be the one to tell him?" he asked tentatively.
"Can't you?"

Instead of growing angry, Asher patiently explained his

reasons. Again. "Paul doesn't know anything about my magic.
It'll be easier for him if the news comes from you, because
you've been open with him from the beginning."

That made sense, but he could not shake his fear. "What

if..." He could not even voice it.

"Kian," Asher's tone went gentle, "he won't hate you for

telling him the truth. He's not that kind of man."

Slowly, his courage began to return, and Kian nodded.
"Good." Asher stood, walked to Zakai. "Burned through

most of it, I see. I'm impressed."

Zakai thrashed against what was left of the restraints.
"Not yet," said Asher, kneeling beside him. "You're so

pissed at me that you haven't noticed the damage you've
done to your hand." He gestured to Kian. "Come here and
heal your friend."

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Kian moved to kneel beside Asher, hissing when he saw

the wound. "It's an injury inflicted by magic. I'm not sure I
can without Paul nearby." In all his life, he'd never met a
human with such potent energy. To his knowledge, only their
combined passion could easily heal a magical wound.

"Incubi magic is pumped so full of desire that focusing it

for other purposes can be hard." He raised two fingers. "Open
your mouth."

He hesitated, opened his mouth. Asher touched Kian's lips

and drew his hand back, a ribbon of white mist caught
between his fingers.

It felt as if the very air was being dragged out of his lungs.

His chest thrust outward as his body arched, and he moaned
at the unnatural sensation.

"Got it," said Asher, flipping his hand so that the palm

faced upward. "Now, just have to purify it."

Kian watched as the ribbon glowed a brilliant emerald.

Asher guided it down to Zakai's raw knuckles, and it settled
over the skin, caressed it. As the glow dissipated, the skin
beneath healed.

"There," said Asher, rising to his feet. "You should be one

hundred percent."

The restraints vanished, and Zakai jumped up, growling at

the wizard. "This is not over."

Asher didn't seem at all intimidated by such ferocity.

"You're right. There remains the question of what to do about
you." He stepped forward. "Attacking a Guardian is
punishable by death."

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Panicked, Kian leapt between them. "You would kill him

now? So soon after healing him?"

Asher glanced at Kian, broke into a smile as he shifted his

gaze back to Zakai. "Why don't we call what happened
between us a sparring match?" He chuckled. "Although it
wasn't much of a match, per se."

The incubus clenched his fists, and Kian rushed to stop him

from doing something foolish. "Zakai, calm yourself. Please."

"It's tough, I know," said Asher. "You must have worked

long and hard to earn your fighting skills. Your pride is
battered, and you have no outlet for it. But you should listen
to your friend, because if you attack me again, I will kill you."

Zakai stiffened, but he did not advance.
Asher's gaze drifted to Kian. "I'm counting on you to take

care of Paul. You won't let me down?"

Taking care of his human was a more than welcome task.

"No. I promise."

"Then that concludes our discussion." Asher walked to the

edge of the tower.

"Wait!" called Kian.
He turned, his eyes intent. "Yes?"
Kian faltered, then moved closer. "You know whatever

emotion I feel?"

His mouth crooked. "Whether I want to or not."
The life of any empath was difficult. In this day and age,

the ability was often magically removed at birth. That Asher
had survived into adulthood with it was amazing. That he
could become Guardian of New York was almost
inconceivable.

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"Could you..." Kian palmed his chest. "Could you tell me

what it is I feel for Paul?"

Asher cocked an eyebrow. "You haven't figured it out yet?"
He shook his head. "I've never felt anything like this."
The wizard's expression softened, making him appear

startlingly young and ... human. "It's love, Kian."

"Love?" His brow furrowed as he tried to grasp the foreign

concept. "Incubi do not fall in love."

Asher smiled and held out his hand. The tips of his fingers

touched each other. "You're like a rosebud." Slowly, he
opened his hand. "The bud is unfurling its petals, accepting
the warmth and light of the sun for the very first time. That's
how you feel, isn't it?"

The ache in his chest eased. "Yes."
"That's love."
The revelation was profound, and he stared at Asher in

awe.

"Don't worry," said Asher, amused again. "You'll get the

hang of it." Taking a step back, the wizard slipped off the
edge of the tower and disappeared from sight.

Kian stood silent as his heart beat against his palm. Love.

He loved Paul.

How glorious.

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Chapter Fourteen

Paul walked into his bedroom, holding his mail in one hand

while undoing his tie with the other. He paused, smiled when
he saw Kian sitting cross-legged on the center of his bed.
"You came back."

Kian grinned. "I said I would return tonight."
"That you did." It had been irrational to think otherwise,

but some part of him had thought he'd finally driven Kian
away for good. Paul dropped the mail on the night-stand and
pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I'm glad you're here."

The incubus purred, and it was all Paul could do to keep

from falling into him. Instead, he straightened and removed
his tie.

"Did you have a good time with Zakai?" he asked,

returning the tie to its place in his closet.

"Oh, yes. Although I believe I had a much better time than

he did."

What was that? Some kind of incubi humor? Paul removed

his suit jacket and dropped it into a hamper.

"Paul? Do you wash your own laundry?"
"No, I send it out." He turned, leaned on his dresser.

"Why?"

Kian's hot gaze slid over him. "You are a walking luxury.

Never, in my entire life, have I encountered such a perfect
man."

Perfect. It was his most frequent compliment. "You really

like that about me, don't you?"

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He smiled.
Paul had never known a man with such an intimate smile.

Even Asher's smiles held a certain distance to them. "You're a
thousand years old."

"I know," said Kian, chuckling.
Paul crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at

the floor. "I'm only twenty-seven, but I'm also human. Soon,
this 'perfection' of mine will give way to grey hair, to wrinkles.
I'm not sure if I want you to see that happen to me. I'm not
sure if ... if I can watch your interest fade."

Suddenly, Kian was there, tipping Paul's head back to

meet his gaze. "How long have you been thinking these
things?"

"A while," he admitted softly. He'd meant to wait until he'd

figured out a solution before bringing it up, but he realized
while Kian was gone that there weren't any. This
relationship—his first real relationship—would be a short one.

Kian's thumbs lightly caressed the skin under his eyes.

"The shadows here have grown darker. Did you not sleep at
all in my absence?"

"Why are you changing the subject?"
The incubus frowned. "I apologize. The evidence of your

weariness distracted me." His hands slipped downward to
skim over Paul's shoulders. "My interest in you will never
fade."

"You say that with such conviction," he murmured, arousal

already sapping his concentration as he leaned closer,
touched his lips to Kian's neck. "I believe you mean it."

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Kian slipped his hands into Paul's slacks, untucked his

shirt. "If you could be with me forever, would you take the
chance?"

Forever?

... this fire...

Smothering the riddle, he glanced up. "Is that a

hypothetical, or an offer?"

"It is a gift I wish to give you." Kian slipped his hand under

Paul's shirt, ran a warm palm over the tense muscles of his
stomach. "One you should consider very carefully before
accepting."

Paul tried to pull back, but the incubus pressed their

bodies together, kindling ardent fire between them. "Kian,
you know I can't think when you..."

"Promise me you'll not make a decision tonight."
He closed his eyes, clinging to Kian's hard body. "Why?"
"Because I want you to take your time with it." He licked

Paul's ear. "And because I am not ready to hear you decline."

As Kian rubbed against him, Paul lost himself in a pool of

liquid fire. "Missing you kept me up last night. If I look tired,
that's why." His heart skipped a beat—he wasn't used to such
intense feelings, let alone confessing them. But Kian had
noticed, and so deserved an explanation.

Kian straightened, ran his fingers along the line of Paul's

jaw. "But you did eventually sleep?"

He nodded.
"Were your dreams peaceful?"

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Flinching at the memory, Paul slipped from the other

man's arms. "I can't recall," he lied, running his fingers
through his hair.

"You can say 'no' at the entrance of the maze, Paul."
He froze, somehow managed to turn his head. "What did

you say?"

"It is your choice, and your choice alone, whether to

enter." Kian's gaze was steady, serious. "No one can force
you into it."

Paul took a step back. "How did you know about..."
The incubus made no move to close the distance between

them. "Although it can differ among dream walkers, I've
heard tales of some who seem to share your experiences. A
maze to traverse, puzzles to solve, a riddle to answer.
Ciphers, especially, tend to perceive dreams that way."

"Dream walker?" whispered Paul. He'd heard that term

before. Where? When?

"It is what you are, Paul. You possess rare magic, and so

much power that it has elevated you to the level of cipher:
one who can use a dream to unravel mysteries and affect
change in the waking world."

Paul tried to force a smile. "If I could do something like

that, I'd know it, wouldn't I?"

Confusion shaped Kian's expression. "I thought the same

when I met you, but your talents are unmistakable." He gave
a small shake to his head, catching the light with his copper
hair. "Perhaps you were scarred by the magic before you had
a chance to understand it..."

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Paul's hand twitched and flexed. He hid it behind his back

as he glanced away.

"—or it might be as simple as having no one to teach you.

A surprising number of humans are unaware..."

"There's nothing magical about me," he snapped. Stopping

short, he lifted his head to meet Kian's gaze. He didn't know
where this anger was coming from, but there was a lot more
of it than he was prepared to handle. "Nothing."

Kian's voice softened. "Everything about you is magical.

From your rituals, to your arresting eyes, to the startling
emotions you evoke from me. This does not change who you
are, Paul. It is merely one more piece of magic."

"Stop it." He clenched his fists. "My routine is not magic.

The color of my eyes is not magic." An image of his mother
flashed in his mind. "Trust me; I know better than anyone
that I haven't got the kind of power you want me to have."

"But you do." Kian approached, ran gentle hands up Paul's

chest. "Four years ago, I was wasting away in forced
servitude. I was alone, and no one heard my cries for help.
No one came to save me." He lowered his head and brushed
their lips together. "Except you, my sweet. You rescued me
when no one else could. Your magic is ... wondrous."

Paul's anger seeped away as new images formed in his

mind. The chains he'd pictured around Kian's neck, torso,
arms, and legs his first night with the incubus, as well as a
dark, cold ... "Dungeon," he said, thinking aloud.

Kian didn't respond, just held his gaze.
Staring into those bronze eyes brought on other images.

"No windows, one of those hanging light bulbs suspended

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from the ceiling..." He concentrated, frowning slightly with the
effort. "You didn't want me to free you."

"I did not want to harm you."
He remembered that. He remembered the fear and

hopelessness in the incubus. "But I had a key."

Kian glided his knuckles up Paul's cheek. "Yes."
The images in his mind eased into focus. "You were so

thin, and chained to the floor. I remember ... It took a long
time to get to you."

"Three hours," said Kian, kissing his temple. "I think it was

because I'd lived so many years, amassed so many
experiences."

Paul twisted his hands into Kian's shirt. "Red silk."
Straightening, Kian stroked his back. "What?"
"The walls of the maze were made of red silk." His grip

tightened. "It billowed in the breeze, caressed my skin as I
walked through." He looked up. "Why?"

The incubus was quiet a moment, his gaze thoughtful.

"From what I understand, the maze is an expression of a
being's subconscious. You must walk the twists and turns of
the mind to find the true spirit of a person, to realize the
quest you've been called to complete."

Paul thought of the thousands of mazes he'd dreamt about

throughout the course of his life, how each one had been
unique, how each one had needed a different solution. "What
about the puzzles?"

"We guard our secrets zealously, even when we need help.

The puzzles are like a ... safe, and you are the safe cracker.

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Every puzzle you solve brings you closer to us, to our deepest
need."

"And the riddle?"
Kian threaded his fingers through Paul's hair. "It's the final

gateway. If you know the riddle, it proves that you know us.
It proves that we can trust you, and so we let you in."

There seemed to be an explanation for everything. But if it

was true—if he really was a ... a dream walker—then that
meant he'd been living in the dark, with half his life shrouded
in dreams. The haunting riddle that had plagued him for so
long whispered through his mind, and he realized something
else.

If he had the power to change the waking world through

dreams, then he'd let a beautiful woman die when he had a
chance to save her.

And he couldn't live with that.
"I don't believe you," he said softly.
Kian drew back in surprise. "It is the truth."
"It's not." He forced a little certainty into his voice. "You

have the power to induce hypnotic suggestions, and that's
what you're doing to me now."

As if struck, the incubus fell back a step. "Paul."
"You ... You build this fantasy because you need me to be

something I'm not. No matter what I do, you always want me
to tell you more, to share more, to give you more." He turned
away, shaking as he struggled not to choke on his next
words. "Well, I'm through with it. You'll never be happy with
me, so get the hell out of here."

Kian's voice firmed. "No."

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"We're over. I don't want you."
The incubus grabbed his shoulders and spun him around.

"You don't want me?" Tangling his hand in Paul's hair, Kian
yanked his head back and captured his mouth.

Fiery desire exploded inside him, and Paul moaned even as

he tried to shove himself away.

Kian was much stronger, and his arms locked the embrace

as his lips caressed, as his tongue delved deep.

It was too much, being so close. Paul's knees buckled, and

only the other man's strength kept him upright.

"You lied to me, Paul," said Kian, breaking the kiss to

nuzzle his cheek, the curve of his neck. "It seems you want
me very much." His voice grew husky as he tugged at Paul's
clothing. "Why would you say such things? If you were not a
dream walker, I still could not bear to be parted from you.
Your perfection lies in who you are, not in what you can do.
Don't you know that?"

Paul clutched at his arms, his fingers turning white as he

tried to summon the will to shove at him again. "I told you to
go. Why won't you leave?"

He flicked open the button at Paul's collar, pressed a kiss

to the hollow of his throat. "I never imagined you kept such
pain hidden from me." Kian's hand left his hair to stroke his
back. "I cannot leave you in such a state."

"Dammit, Kian!" he yelled, shocked by the tears filling his

eyes. "You don't know shit about me!"

Kian only chuckled against him. "I think that's the first

time I've ever heard you swear in anger, Paul."

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He couldn't understand what was happening. Usually, Kian

backed down when Paul hardened his voice. What had
happened in their short time apart?

Gently, Kian lifted him off his feet, cradled him in strong

arms. "I wish to know you; I've made no secret of this." His
clothes vanished, leaving only the key that Paul had given
him. "But whatever you give me is enough."

Paul sucked in his breath, trying to cope with the grief and

anger and arousal storming through him. He slid trembling
fingers down the platinum chain around Kian's neck, cupped
the key in his palm. "You're still wearing it."

"I treasure it." Kian walked to the bed, pulled back the

covers. "As I treasure you."

He caught the scent of flowers, looked down to see

hundreds of rose petals scattered over his mattress. "What's
... What's this?"

Kian set him on the mattress and crawled in beside him. "I

thought your memory of me might return tonight, and I
wanted to make it special." He scooped up a handful of red
petals, spilled them over Paul's white shirt. "I had not known
you would deny it, however."

Stricken with regret, Paul glanced away. He didn't deserve

Kian. He didn't deserve anyone. "The whole room smells
sweet now."

Strong hands coaxed him to lay back on the mattress. "It's

because the flowers accepted the warmth of the sun."

Was it as simple as that? Paul had tried to accept Kian's

fire, but opening himself up had proved harder than he could

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have expected. Now, as he stared up at the incubus, he felt
cold and cracked. "I-I don't really want you to go."

"Mmm." He caressed Paul's nose with the tip of his own.

"Thank heaven, for it would have killed me to leave you."

Kian was so forgiving, and it chased some of the frost

inside him away.

"You're trembling," said Kian, unbuttoning the rest of his

shirt. "And it's not entirely from desire."

No, it wasn't. Needing to lay one thing to rest before going

any further, Paul placed his hands over Kian's. "This dream
walker thing..." He shook his head. "It's not me."

A faint, gentle smile touched his mouth. "Alright. Simple

dreams, then." Kian lowered his head and kissed Paul's bared
chest. "Just remember what I said about entering the maze.
Remember that you always have a choice." His lips brushed
against a nipple. "Always."

Paul's hands fell away, and he let the incubus undress him.

Familiar fire licked his skin, heated his blood. His trembling
faded under Kian's slow, attentive touch; his back arched as
gentle teeth bit kisses down his body.

Mazes, puzzles, riddles, dreams. He didn't want any of it.
He just wanted Kian.

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Chapter Fifteen

Kian gazed down at his human, careful not to touch his

skin as he stroked his dark hair. Paul slept peacefully now,
and he hoped no one would call him to cipher. The sweet man
needed rest.

"I love you," he whispered, finding that he enjoyed the

words on his tongue. He'd wanted to tell Paul tonight, but he
sensed it wasn't the right time.

Paul had denied the magic within him, had been angry and

had shed tears. Although Kian did not understand, he spent
hours trying to soothe the pain from the other man's body.
He did not know whether he'd been successful.

Most humans were enchanted with the idea of magic, and

Paul certainly enjoyed it when Kian wielded his own. Yet he
could not tolerate the thought of being a dream walker. Why?

Had Kian been inadequate in his explanations? To be a

cipher ... it was a precious thing. Had he failed to make that
clear?

So many secrets. If Paul did not accept his offer of

immortality, he feared he would never be able to learn them,
never be able to give the human what he needed most.

Exhaling a soft breath, he let his gaze drift to the night-

stand, to the mail scattered across its surface. He frowned
when he saw his name printed on one of the envelopes.

Carefully, he leaned over Paul, plucked the square

envelope from the pile. He settled back on his haunches, his
fingers tingling.

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An ensorcelled missive.
He broke the seal, slid free a plain white card. As he held

it, red scripted letters appeared against the white.

You must be alone

to read this message.

Could Zakai have sent this? Kian ran his fingers over the

lettering, studying the card. No, this did not feel like incubus
fire. It felt like wizard magic.

Asher, perhaps. Checking to see if his order had been

obeyed.

Kian eased out of bed, crept to the balcony, and looked at

the card. A red scorpion appeared, darkened into black. His
blood ran cold.

It was the crest of the Davis Legacy.

It would be unwise

to destroy this card...

Kian gritted his teeth as he began to do just that.

... without knowing the consequences.

His hands stilled. Richard had no magic. How was he doing

this? Even as Kian tried to understand, the words changed
again.

Midnight is fast approaching.

Incubus and Wizard must be together

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before the final stroke.

A low growl flowed out of him when an address appeared.

"You no longer have power over me, Richard."

He could almost hear the wizard's dark laughter.

Perhaps not.

But I have quite the hold

on your lover.

Kian's eyes rounded, and he sprinted from the balcony,

rushing to their bed. Paul arched his back, his fists clenched
as he grimaced with pain.

"Paul!" He jumped onto the mattress, grabbed his

shoulders. "Wake up!"

His eyes remained closed, and Kian shook him. "Wake up!"
No response, and if Kian shook him with any more force,

he'd cause physical injury. Trembling, he looked at the card.

You have one hour until midnight.

It would not do to be late.

Kian bolted out of Paul's bedroom and leapt off the

balcony.

* * * *

"This way, Mr. Somers."

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Kian followed the manservant to the center of an

expansive hotel suite. "Where is he? Bring him into the open."

The servant bowed his head and went into another room.
Every muscle in his body tensed as he waited.
"Ah, Kian," rasped a thin voice. "I'm honored that you

accepted my invitation."

He growled. "You patronizing son of a..." His scathing

words cut short when he saw the state of his former master.

An old man in a wheelchair emerged from the adjoining

room. Using a control on one of the arms, Richard Davis
rolled to a stop before Kian. "You're looking well, dear
incubus."

He stared down at him in shock. "What has happened to

you?"

His eyes narrowed. "You happened to me."
Although it was true that Kian had done his share of

punishing when freed, Richard had still been healthy when
he'd left. Weak, whimpering, but healthy. The man before
him looked closer to eighty than forty: with thin, withered
limbs; wrinkled, liver-spotted skin; and no hair at all on his
head. "I had no part in this."

Richard's trembling hands curled into fists. "Is that what

you've been telling yourself for the last four years?"

Kian hardened. "You were the one who tricked me into

your home with the lure of bed-sport, and you were the one
who chained me to the floor against my will."

"And then you turned around and tied me to a wall."

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"That was nothing!" yelled Kian. "You experienced the kiss

of leather! What is that compared to the sting of enchanted
chains?"

"Look at me, Kian!" Richard leaned forward, gripping the

arms of his wheelchair. "What are chains compared to this?"

Straightening, Kian forced himself calm, to think about

why he'd come here. "It is not my fault you were so short-
sighted in casting your spell. It is not Paul's fault, either."

Richard also quieted, settling back in his chair. "Ah, Paul

Graham. An interesting man, that one."

His eyes narrowed. "What did you do to him?"
"I'm terrifying him."
"Why?"
"I needed something to amuse myself when you declined

my dinner invitation."

This sadistic game had been going on that long? Richard

was the cause of Paul's nightmares?

The wizard's eyes fluttered closed. "Hmm, he's a great

deal stronger than he was just yesterday. But he still doesn't
know how to wake himself up, so I'm having a great deal of
fun."

Ice-cold shards of fear cut into Kian. "You are not asleep,

and you have no magic. How are you doing this?"

"Ah, but I do have magic." Richard opened his eyes and

smiled. "I paid a fairly hefty price for it, in fact."

Even now, standing before the wizard, he could not detect

it. Only one thing could be traded for such substantial, such
shadowed, power. "Your soul," whispered Kian.

"Yes," said Richard, totally unrepentant.

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Kian's stomach lurched. "Why?"
"It took me over a year to figure out how you freed

yourself. When I realized you'd had help, it took me another
year to track your rescuer." The smile slithered from his face.
"Paul Graham. A dream walker who doesn't know he's a
dream walker. You were saved by accident."

"Yes, it was an accident." Kian tried to keep the urgency

from his voice. "Why torture him? Why not attack me
directly?"

"Dear incubus, I am attacking you directly. What better

revenge than to take what is most precious to you, as you did
to me?"

His control snapped. "Release him from your spell!" Kian

raised his hand, filled it with such intense magic that it
glowed crimson. "Or this time I will kill you!"

The decrepit old man merely clucked his tongue. "Kill me,

and he sleeps forever."

Paul...
The glow vanished. "What do you want, Richard?"
"I want what I've always wanted, Kian."
His gaze dropped to floor. "You wish to bind me to your

service."

"Much, much more than that."
Images of Paul's sleeping form flooded his mind. "Anything

you want," said Kian, his voice soft. "Anything."

"My, you must care for him very much to agree so easily.

Have you offered him a chance to live forever?"

His head shot up. "That is none of your concern."

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Richard scowled. "You have! You'd grant him what you

denied me!"

"It is my gift to give."
The fanaticism in the wizard's eyes intensified. "What

makes Paul so worthy?"

Determination tempered his voice. "I love him."
Shock flickered over Richard's weathered face.

"Impossible. Incubi can't fall in love."

"Nevertheless, it has happened to me."
A muscle in Richard's jaw ticked. "Liar. You're only trying

to bargain your freedom. I've got no sympathy for a creature
like you."

Kian no longer cared what Richard Davis thought. He only

had one goal now. "Tell me what you want."

Richard straightened his back as waves of madness

radiated from his body. "I want the two of us to be together
for eternity."

"Chains again, then?"
A slow, sick smile curved his mouth. "I have a new spell,

Kian. One that has taken me months to cast, and it can only
be completed if you willingly give yourself to me."

Kian's hands curled into fists. "And if I refuse, you continue

to torture Paul?"

"If you refuse, he dies in his sleep right now." Richard

leaned forward. "So beautiful, your lover. I've never seen a
man like him in my life. It would be a pity for him to depart
this world in his prime."

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His fire dimmed at the thought, and he forced himself to

be strong. "If I come to you willingly, then Paul is to be
forever untouched by you. Understood?"

The wizard nodded.
Shutting his eyes a moment, Kian said a silent goodbye to

his sweet human. "I am yours."

Richard extended a thin, withered arm. "Seal our pact."
As the clock chimed twelve, Kian reached out and took the

wizard's hand.

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Chapter Sixteen

Sitting on the floor in the corner, Paul stared at his empty

bed. He'd had to throw the rose petals out today—they'd
started to rot. Now, there was no trace of Kian here, or
anywhere in the house.

He dropped his forehead on his knees, shuddering with the

misery inside of him.

Kian had left. He'd just ... left.
It was Paul's fault—he knew that. If he'd just accepted

Kian's assertion that he was a dream walker, then the incubus
would still be here.

Such a simple thing to admit, but he'd pushed the idea—

and Kian—away. Why? He'd never been one to run from the
truth. Despite the sudden proclamation that Paul had magical
powers, Kian's explanation had been logical. It had clarified
so many of the strange things that had happened in the last
few months. The last several years.

And if he'd needed evidence ... then there was that little

girl, Danielle, who had insisted he'd met her in a dream to
return her teddy bear.

He was afraid of the pain that came with admitting. That's

why he'd denied it.

"I should have been stronger," he whispered.
"Where is Kian?"
He glanced up, saw a man dressed in white standing on his

balcony. The wind flowing in from outside played with his
blond hair and loose clothing as he scowled at Paul. There

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was something familiar in the way he held himself; it
reminded him of Kian. "Who are you?" He frowned. "How did
you get in here?"

"I am Zakai." The man strode forward, crouched in front of

Paul. "And you will answer my question."

"Zakai?" Paul straightened. "You're Kian's friend, aren't

you? Do you know where he is?"

Zakai's scowl deepened. "That is what I've come to find

out! He hasn't contacted me in a week and I cannot locate
him. Where is he?"

Disheartened, Paul slumped back against the wall. "I don't

know. He ... He left."

He growled and gripped Paul's shirt. "He may have left

you," Zakai stood, dragging him to his feet, "but he would
never leave me. Not unless he's been hurt to the point that
his fire has gone out." He leaned close. "Since he has told me
several times that his fire only burns for you, then you must
have had something to do with his disappearance."

"Hurt?" Guilt racked him. "We had a fight. I'd thought we'd

resolved it, but in the morning he was gone. I haven't seen
him in over a week."

"What did you fight about?"
"I ... I didn't believe him when he told me I was a dream

walker."

Zakai cursed him in a variety of languages. "He treasures

you, and you repay his love with scorn?"

He felt the color drain from his skin. "Love?"
The incubus shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. "I

cannot believe you are the one Kian spoke of so fondly!" He

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pressed his hand to Paul's cheek. "Tell me all the places he
might have run to, or I will teach you the darker side of
desire."

Confused, still reeling with the prospect that Kian loved

him, Paul only stared at the other man.

Zakai tilted his head to the side. "You do not feel my

magic. Kian said you were a strange one, but a touch was
enough to ignite your fire."

"I-I don't feel anything."
His hand traveled downward, twisted into Paul's shirt.

"Perhaps it is because you've been inside of Kian," he
murmured.

Paul closed his fingers around Zakai's wrist. "Kian loves

me?" he asked softly.

The incubus tightened his grip as he lifted Paul off his feet.

"If something has happened to him, so help me I will..."

"Put ... my friend ... down."
Zakai stiffened, and Paul stared past the incubus in shock.

"Asher?"

Asher walked in, his normally gentle face hard as he

looked up at Zakai. "Now."

Slowly, he lowered Paul to the floor.
"Go stand in the corner," said Asher.
Zakai growled at him.
Asher's intensity didn't waver. "Last time, I played with

you." He leaned upward. "This time there will be no mercy."

The incubus held his ground for several seconds before

going to the opposite corner of the room and crossing his
arms over his chest.

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Breaking into an easy smile, Asher turned to look at Paul.

"You're okay."

He wasn't so sure about that. "What are you doing here?"
The smile faded. "You've been calling in sick for a week,

Paul. I was worried about you."

His misery returned full force, and Paul leaned back

against the wall, heedless of the cold blowing in from the
balcony. "I've lost my focus, so there was no point in going
into the office." There was no point in anything.

"Jesus," whispered Asher. "You're really hurting."
He shrugged, trying to work through the murk in his brain

in order to ask the questions that needed to be asked. He just
couldn't seem to care. "How did you get in here?"

"Tried the front door, you didn't answer. Knew you were

home, so I figured I'd come in through the window."

"That's called 'Breaking and Entering,' Asher."
He chuckled. "What's a little BandE between friends?"
A faint smile touched Paul's lips as some of the fog inside

him dissipated. "Thank you."

Asher winked at him. "Anytime."
Paul glanced at the incubus brooding in the corner. "You

know him?"

"You could say that." Asher grinned. "He despises me."
Zakai scowled and looked away.
Paul couldn't imagine anyone hating Asher. "Why?"
"Because I kicked his ass the other day, and his pride is

still bruised."

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His brow furrowed as he sorted through the problems with

that statement. "I don't understand. He's an ... He's very
strong."

Asher's face gentled. "I know what he is."
That gentleness only served to make Paul cautious of his

friend. "How?"

The other man's gaze dipped. "I haven't exactly been

honest with you. I guess it's time to finally tell you the truth
about me."

All at once, Paul knew his world-view was about to shift

dramatically. Again. "I'm not sure I want to hear this. Not
right now."

"You have to hear it, Paul." Asher lifted his gaze, palmed

his own chest. "Because I can feel your heart breaking, and I
can only help you if everything's out in the open."

"My heart?" If Asher had dropped this on him a few weeks

ago, he would have questioned, he would have argued. But
now his life was saturated with magic, and he was beginning
to see it everywhere. "You can feel it?"

"I'm an empath." Asher's hand slipped from his chest. "I

feel what you feel."

Zakai swore. "You forgot to mention that you're also a

cunning, ruthless wizard," he muttered.

Asher's mouth crooked, his gaze never leaving Paul. "That

too."

Paul quietly absorbed the exchange. Asher could feel a

person's emotions. That accounted for his intuition in the
courtroom and with clients. It also explained how he often
defined Paul's emotions even before he could. And the other

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incubus seemed quite certain, if displeased, that Asher's
powers were real. "You're a..." he recalled his conversations
with Kian, "...creature?"

Asher shook his head. "I'm a human being with magic."

His smile warmed. "Just like you."

Although he was becoming familiar with magic, there were

a lot of things he didn't understand. "I can't differentiate
between the two."

"It's mostly physiological," said Asher, his tone patient.

"The big difference is that creatures are immortal, and we're
not."

Zakai let loose a soft growl. "Small favors."
This time, Asher ignored him.
Paul let his head tip forward, as if sharing a secret. "I'm a

dream walker."

Chuckling, his friend leaned closer and spoke softly into his

ear. "I know. You've walked in my dreams a time or two."

Surprised, Paul straightened. "I have?"
"Yep, when we were kids. You even rescued me once."
He seemed to have done that a lot. "I..." Paul scrubbed his

face with his hand. "I don't remember."

Asher's calm voice eased some of his anxiety. "It's okay.

I'll tell you all about it later." He dipped his head, caught
Paul's gaze. "Right now, though, you should tell me what
happened between you and Kian."

Zakai was the one who answered. "The human doused his

fire and ran him off. That's what happened."

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Asher shot him a dark glance. "You have a lot of trouble

controlling that mouth of yours. I could do us all a favor and
seal it permanently, if you want."

The incubus clamped his mouth shut.
Paul had never seen this side of Asher, and he didn't know

what to make of it. "He's right. That's exactly what
happened."

"I seriously doubt that," said Asher, turning back to face

him.

"But it's true." He nodded toward Zakai. "That's his best

friend, and he hasn't seen Kian either. It's my fault, because
I'm cold."

Zakai tilted his head to the side.
Asher's tone softened considerably. "You're not cold,

especially when it comes to Kian. I can always tell when
you're thinking about him, because your emotions damn near
fry my nerve endings." When Paul started to speak, he raised
his hand. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I'm just used to you
being a lot more low-key than that. And even before the
incubus you were always a good man, despite that touch of
cool."

Paul swallowed the catch in his throat. "Really?"
"Really." He jerked his thumb at Zakai. "He might be

Kian's best friend, but I'm yours, and I know you. Trust me,
okay?"

After hesitating a moment, Paul nodded.
"Alright. Now let's see if we can find your incubus." Asher

reached into his pocket, pulling out a cell phone and flipping it
open to look down at the screen. "Tommy."

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The phone emitted a rapid series of beeps as it dialed a

number. It barely had a chance to ring before someone
answered, and the screen cast light onto Asher's face as it
flickered to life. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to locate an incubus for me."
"The one who's been sleeping with your friend?"
Paul's eyes rounded.
Asher sighed. "Yes, that one. Top priority."
Curious, Paul leaned a little closer. "He can find Kian?"
"Oh, sorry." Asher turned the phone around to let him see.

"This is Tommy, my seer. Tommy, this is Paul."

Paul looked at the small screen, saw a young man with

pale hair and eyes. "Hello."

"Hi," said Tommy, a shy smile on his mouth.
"It's ... nice to meet you."
"Likewise." Tommy leaned forward. "You have very athletic

sex."

A hot blush rose to Paul's skin, and Asher straightened,

flipping the phone around in his hand. "Tommy," he growled.
"This is exactly why you need to get out more."

"S-Sorry, sir."
He held stern another moment before a smile tugged at his

lips. "Get searching."

"Yes, sir."
Asher closed the phone. "He's a powerful seer, and he's

familiar with Kian's frequency, so he should be getting back to
us in a few minutes."

"He works for you?"

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"Since I was thirteen," he answered, tucking the phone

into his pocket. "One of the perks of being me."

Paul stared at him in awe. "Who are you, Asher?"
His lips curved in a playful grin. "I'll tell you later. The riot

of emotions stressing your system will only get worse if I tell
you now, and that'll be unpleasant for us both."

Paul had no trouble believing that. Today was turning out

to be even more surreal than the night Kian had seduced him,
and this time he had no warmth wrapped around him, no low
purrs in his ear to soothe his nerves. His gaze drifted to the
other incubus, whose face was etched with concern, and he
reminded himself that he wasn't the only one having a
difficult day.

Asher glanced over his shoulder. "Ready to play nice?"
All the anger in Zakai had vanished, and now his

expression was open, vulnerable. "Thank you," he said, his
voice cracking. He swallowed hard before continuing. "For
using your resources to find him."

Asher's body shifted slightly, to a friendlier stance. "No

problem. Come on out of that corner."

Zakai shuffled forward a few steps, but kept his distance.
He was Kian's friend. Paul racked his mind for something

comforting to say, but he couldn't think of anything. He didn't
have any experiences to draw on.

"Relax," said Asher. "Both of you. Tommy will be calling

any..."

His phone rang.
Asher retrieved it, flipped it open. "Found him already?"
"No, sir. But..."

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He frowned. "Then why are you calling me? You should be

concentrating."

"I know, but..."
A thread of warning edged into his voice. "Tommy..."
"Ash!" Tommy gasped, as if his own outburst had shocked

him. "Sir, I ... I think you should turn to Channel Twelve."

"Twelve?" Asher glanced up at Paul. "You have a TV in this

room?"

Paul went to a small cabinet, opened it up. He turned it on

and flipped through the channels, freezing when he saw the
man on the screen. "Asher..."

Asher looked over Paul's shoulder. "Shit. Turn that up."
He turned up the volume.
"...recluse Richard Davis was seen today in public for the

first time in four years..."

Sick, cold dread twisted hard in the pit of Paul's stomach

when he looked at the copper-haired man pausing in front of
a restaurant to speak to reporters.

"...as you can see, the reports of my illness were greatly

exaggerated..."

Lifting his hand, Paul touched the screen. He'd never seen

this man before, yet so many things about him were familiar.
The way his eyes caught the light. The line of his jaw. Davis
smiled into the camera, and Paul traced the curve of his lips.
"Kian?"

"Yes and no," said Asher, his voice tight.
Zakai ran forward, leaning on Paul to get closer to the

television. "Fire in Heaven," he whispered. "Fusion."

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As Davis continued to talk to the reporters, Paul studied

every feature, every curve of muscle. The familiarity waxed
and waned with different movements, different expressions.
"What's ... What's going on?"

Asher walked away from them, staring down at his phone.

"When did this happen?"

"As near as I can tell," said Tommy, "a little over a week

ago."

He glanced at Paul and Zakai, then back at his phone. "So

the spell's had over seven days to set."

"Sir ... I don't understand. When I saw Davis before, he

had no magic."

"Demon magic. Dark, insidious. Its nature provides a cloak

that makes it nearly impossible to detect." He ran a hand
through his hair. "How could anyone in the Davis Legacy be
that stupid?"

"Demon magic?" Tommy's voice shook. "Don't you have to

sell your soul to wield that?"

"Tommy..." His gaze fixed on the television. "I'll call you

back," he said, snapping his phone shut.

Paul turned down the volume, looked at his friend. "Asher?

Is that ... Is that Kian?"

Asher hesitated. "Physically, a lot of it is Kian. With this

kind of spell, though, it's likely that his personality has been
repressed so that Richard Davis can control it."

It. Why did he keep calling him it? "A spell?"
He nodded. "A very intricate, very powerful spell. I imagine

Davis felt that enchanted chains wouldn't be sufficient this
time around."

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Chains. Paul's gaze shot to the screen, but the man had

disappeared, replaced by another story. "Richard Davis is the
one who kidnapped and held Kian prisoner."

"Yes."
Growling, Zakai snapped off the television. "He's showing

off Kian's body as if it is some sort of prize! How can he
believe there will be no retribution!"

Asher's voice went flat. "That ... thing is a perfect,

seamless fusion. That kind of union requires both parties to
willingly enter the contract, which means Kian had to have
agreed to it. Davis believes there will be no retribution
because he hasn't broken any laws."

Zakai stormed to Asher, was thrown back by a flash of

emerald light. "You must go to that abomination and wrench
them apart!"

"I can't." His hands clenched tight. "Perfect fusion means

even I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
Especially not after seven days. Why do you think he waited
this long to make his public debut?"

Zakai roared and slammed his fist into a wall.
Paul's mind raced, focusing on the parts of the explanation

he understood. "Asher? Why would Kian do this?"

His voice remained calm, but Paul could see the strain

permeating his body. "I don't know. Do you remember
anything happening the last night you were with him?"

Darkness encroached on his vision, and he pushed it back.

"A nightmare," he said, rubbing his shoulder.

Asher rubbed his shoulder as well. "You got hurt in the

dream? A bruise?"

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"And scratches. My body still aches from them."
Asher glanced away.
"What?" asked Paul.
He didn't answer.
"What is it?"
Zakai's voice broke the silence. "He does not want to tell

you that Kian probably sacrificed himself to save you."

"Me?" Paul's hand searched out the cabinet for support,

but his knees buckled too quickly. "Oh, God."

"Paul!" Asher rushed forward and caught him before he hit

the floor. "Easy. I've got you."

He looked up, saw that Asher's face had gone pale.

Realizing he was somehow causing the other man pain, he
forced himself to stand on his own strength.

Zakai spoke again, his voice dulled as he stared at the

wall. "Asher Croft, I ask that you grant me the Right of
Retribution. If Kian cannot be saved, then I must release him
from his torment."

Paul's eyes widened. "You're talking about killing him,

aren't you?" He snapped his gaze to Asher, not understanding
why he had the power to grant this 'right' but needing to stop
him from granting permission. "No, you can't."

"That's true," he said gently. "Although it would be the

humane thing for Kian, I have no grounds for putting the
blended creature down."

The thought of Kian suffering crippled his ability to reason.

"You don't understand. I've only known him a little while but
... he's important. There has to be a way to save him." He

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deteriorated into begging as he clutched at Asher's shirt.
"Please."

Asher winced, but made no move to step back. "Paul, it's a

binding, magical contract. There's no way to break it."

"A contract..." The confused anguish waned. He

straightened, reviewing the facts as he would with one of his
cases. "Kian left here in the middle of the night, which is an
unusual time to discuss the terms of any contract. It must
have been completed right away, indicating that one of the
parties might have insisted it be done at once. And if he truly
believed I was in imminent danger, then that put Davis in an
unfairly dominant position in the bargaining process."

Paul looked up, his nerves steady as he met Asher's gaze.

"Kian's assent to this agreement was obtained by subverting
his free will contrary to his own best interests. All of the
elements are present to conclude that Richard Davis exerted
'undue influence' upon him, therefore this contract is
voidable."

Asher stood quiet for several seconds, a thoughtful

expression on his face. Slowly, a smile curved his mouth.
"Applying human law to magical covenant. That's..." He
chuckled. "That's actually brilliant."

"I don't understand," said Zakai. "How can human law help

Kian?"

Paul kept his gaze locked on Asher, praying that it could

help Kian.

Asher rubbed his chin. "Selling your soul isn't strictly

illegal, and neither is casting a fusion spell. But if I have

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grounds to suspect that the contract Kian and Davis entered
into is void, then I'm allowed to take action."

"You can bring Kian back?" asked Paul.
"No. Like I said, I can't pop the seams from the outside."

Just as Paul started to lose hope, Asher leaned forward, his
emerald eyes bright. "But I'll bet you can separate them from
the inside."

His brow furrowed. "How?"
"I can put Kian-Davis to sleep, and you can dream walk

into it."

The calm that had clarified the contract for him vanished.

"I have no idea how to do that."

"Paul." Asher slipped a hand to the back of his neck, pulled

him forward into a gentle embrace. "You love him."

His breath caught. He hadn't realized it until Asher said the

words. "Yes."

"Every being in this world has a unique frequency—it's like

a fingerprint. Tommy couldn't locate your incubus because
that frequency is too faint now. But you've actually been
inside of Kian, so you know him better than anyone else,
whether you realize it or not."

His arms tightened around Paul's body. "The love you feel

for him will give you the extra boost you need to trace his
signal. If you focus on that emotion, it'll act like a beacon and
lead you right to him."

Paul stilled, trying to understand. "Don't I have to be

asleep? I'm ... I'm wound tight. I don't think I can even close
my eyes."

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"I can put you under." Asher pulled back. "You still trust

me?"

Despite everything that had happened, despite finding out

that he knew very little about his best friend, Paul found that
he did trust Asher. "How do I free Kian once I find him?"

He shook his head. "You'll have to figure that out on your

own. Everyone interprets the dreamscape differently."

Paul could very well fail at this. And if he did ... "What if I

can't save him? What if he dies?"

"You're scared."
He rubbed the nape of his neck. "Out of my mind."
"But you've already decided to do it, haven't you?"
Startled, he glanced up. "You really can feel what I feel."
Asher nodded, his face sober. "It's not only dangerous for

Kian. You know that, don't you?"

Kian needed him and, this time, Paul would find a way to

save the person he loved. "I know."

Blowing out a hard breath, Asher gestured to the bed. "I'm

sorry, Paul."

He sat on the mattress. "For what?"
"We'd been watching Davis for a while, but he seemed so

weak and frail that we didn't think he was a threat." His eyes
crinkled at the corners in regret. "If I'd been paying attention,
Kian might not be in this mess."

Paul slid himself to the center of the bed and leaned back

against his headboard. "The same could be said for me."

Zakai harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest. "The

same could be said for Kian. I told him over and over to have
a care regarding that man. I should have followed my

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instincts and simply killed the wizard before damage could be
done."

"With no proof?" asked Asher, sitting on the bed as he cast

a sly smile at Zakai. "You'd risk that in my city?"

The incubus paled, but held his ground. "Yes."
"Interesting," said Asher. "I feel better about trusting you

to watch over Paul while he sleeps, then."

"Watch over the human?" Zakai's gaze darted to Paul. "No!

I wish to go with you to confront the wizard."

Authority hardened Asher's voice. "If you want your friend

back, then protecting Paul is more important."

Zakai leaned forward. "You cannot face that lunatic alone."
"The Davis Legacy is a powerful one, but it's no match for

mine. I'm more than strong enough to handle Kian-Davis in
this world." He met Paul's gaze. "Trust me, he has the
hardest part in this."

Zakai stood silent a moment, before sitting next to Paul

and extending his legs alongside him. "Your body is safe in
my care, human."

"Thank you," he said, knowing the words were totally

inadequate. He turned to Asher. "What happens now?"

Asher threaded his fingers through Paul's hair. "Lay back."
Paul stretched out on the mattress. "Does it hurt to touch

me?"

Surprise flickered over his face, immediately replaced by

an easy smile. "It's worth it." His hand rested on Paul's
forehead. "I researched your mom a while back. Before you
start this, you should know that she was a dream walker,
too."

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His lips parted. "My mother?"
Asher traced a pattern on his forehead, making his skin

tingle. "She wasn't as powerful as you—she wasn't a cipher.
But, from what I can tell, she helped a lot of people."

Paul's eyelids grew heavy. "My mother..."
"She'd be proud of you right now."
His eyes drifted closed, and he slipped away, remembering

Catherine Graham's smile.

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Chapter Seventeen

Asher stood in front of the door to Richard Davis's hotel

suite, surveying the magical barrier that encased the rooms.
Not only did it keep psychics from seeing inside, it was
designed to keep uninvited beings of magic out.

"So much for the element of surprise," he murmured.
Blowing out a soft breath, he focused his energy on the

barrier. Normally, a formal spell was required to break a
shield this strong—glyphs, incantations, potions, the whole
bit—but as a Warrior Class wizard, he had the power to
circumvent all of that.

Still, no point in wasting magic.
Raising his hand, he knocked on the door.
A servant opened it. One look told him that it was a

homunculus—an artificially created person. It was larger than
the usual variety, reaching almost six feet in height, which
meant a great deal of intricate spellwork had gone into
making it.

Richard Davis did indeed possess substantial magic.
Silently cursing himself for missing the signs, Asher leveled

the homunculus with a cool stare. "Asher Croft, here to see
your boss."

The servant bowed his head. "Yes, sir. Master Davis is

expecting you." He stepped aside. "This way, please."

Asher walked in, clapped the homunculus on the shoulder.

"Is 'Master' Davis treating you well?"

It blinked three times in rapid succession. "Yes, sir."

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"Good deal." He slid his hands into his pockets. "If Davis is

expecting me, then he should know that I don't like to be
kept waiting."

Smooth laughter floated through the air. "I wouldn't dream

of it."

Asher turned his head just in time to see the Kian-Davis

fusion enter the room. "Hello, Mr. Davis."

He smiled, raised a hand. "Please, call me Richard."
That smile—it held the shape of Kian's mouth, but none of

his warmth. The sight turned Asher's stomach, but he kept
his expression bland. "Very well, Richard." He nodded at the
servant. "Quite a homunculus you've got there. I haven't seen
one that well made in years."

Richard's broad chest puffed up. "Thank you, that's high

praise coming from the heir to the Croft Legacy. I'm sure you
know better than anyone the importance of surrounding
yourself with trustworthy people."

"As a rule, Crofts prefer to place their trust in people with

souls." He looked over the servant, studying him as he
ignored the spark of anger in Richard. "What method did you
use to make it? Alchemy?"

Arrogance replaced anger. "Yes, supplemented with a few

techniques known only to those of the Davis Legacy."

"Hmm," he said, knowing the unimpressed tone would

irritate the other wizard. "How long ago did you make it?"

"Two years ago. As you know, I had been somewhat

incapacitated until recently, and Nicholas has been invaluable
to me."

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Asher let his gaze drift back to Richard. "You seem to be

doing a lot better now."

Richard grinned that soulless grin. "Why don't you get to

the point of your visit, Asher?"

Appearing unhurried, he lifted an eyebrow. "And what is

the point of my visit?"

"To investigate my fusion spell, of course. Any Guardian

worth his salt would have to drop by to make sure it wasn't
forced, especially if he's figured out that I possess demon
magic." He took a step forward and spread his hands. "As you
can see, it's perfect. My chosen partner came to me willingly."

Asher humored him. "Just out of curiosity, if you can

create such a flawless homunculus, why bother with
something as dangerous as a fusion spell? Why not just make
a body for yourself?"

The demon-wizard's eyes brightened with insanity.

"Homunculi, as perfect as they appear on the outside, have
no sensation of touch. They can't experience physical
pleasure." He ran his palm over his own chest, shuddering
with ecstasy. "An incubus's body is built for pleasure, and I
much prefer fire to ice. Kian was kind enough to grant himself
to me."

"And the price?"
"Acceptable."
"I guess if you're immortal, you don't have to worry about

the consequences of having no soul."

Richard grinned. "Exactly."
No guilt. No fear. Just pride in what he'd done. A true

sociopath.

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Deciding he'd waited long enough, Asher removed a hand

from his pocket, held two fingers vertical and parallel to his
face. "I'm not so sure that the contract you sealed with Kian
is valid."

Richard smiled, engulfed in his own conceit. "It's not as if

we can ask him."

Asher remained silent, gathering his power.
The smile faded. "Do you really think you can tear us

apart?"

"Hardly. I know my limits."
Richard's fists clenched as he growled. "Attempting to kill

me, then?"

"Not that, either."
The other wizard began to advance. "Whatever you're

planning, you've got no chance. With this body, with my new
magic, I'm practically a god."

Asher stood silent, gathering more power.
"You forget, Asher, that I was present when you were

declared Jonathan's heir. I know this trick of yours—how you
amass your energies in your body and release it in an
explosion of raw magic. I've already made preparations to
counter it."

Asher didn't respond.
Richard sneered at him. "Why Jonathan would choose

someone with such foul, common blood as his heir is beyond
me."

"Don't let Dad hear you say that," he said calmly. "He'd

freeze your new-found fire without blinking an eye."

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Enraged, Richard's hands burst into flame as he lunged for

Asher.

A pair of arms locked around Richard from behind and

dragged him to the floor.

He struggled, glanced over his shoulder in shock.

"Nicholas?"

With preternatural speed, Asher closed the distance

between them and knelt at Richard's side. "You're a cocky
guy, Davis." Asher slammed his palm into the wizard's
forehead, used his magic to shove Richard into a coma. "And
you've got no reason to be."

Richard's eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Disgusted, Asher used his hand to close the fusion's

eyelids. "Nice job. You can let go of him now."

The homunculus released the man in his arms. "Thank

you, Master Croft."

Asher took a seat beside Richard's unconscious body. "You

don't have to call me 'Master,' Nicholas."

It blinked a few times. "What has happened, sir? Why do I

no longer belong to Richard Davis?"

Nicholas wasn't at all distraught, just mildly confused. One

of the few benefits of never having a soul, guessed Asher.
"When I touched your shoulder earlier, I planted a spell inside
of you. Took a little while to take root, which is why I had to
keep Davis talking." He propped his wrist on an upraised
knee. "In simplest terms: You now belong to me, and I
instructed you to betray him."

"Ah," said Nicholas, accepting his explanation with

absolute trust. "What are your plans for me?"

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Again, he sensed nothing more than curiosity coming from

the homunculus. "I'll figure something out."

"What shall I do now?"
Asher glanced at Kian-Davis. Putting the fusion in so deep

a coma should give Kian a chance at meeting Davis on level
ground. "You'll wait with me."

"What are we waiting for?"
"A separation. When it's done, I might need you to help

me clean up the mess."

Nicholas sat quietly across from Asher, accepting his will

without question.

Knowing he was in for a long night, Asher lowered his

head, spoke softly to the fused being.

"Kian, if you can hear me, you'd best fight like hell to get

back to Paul."

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Chapter Eighteen

Paul stared at the black iron scorpion topping the gate

before him. He'd focused everything he'd had on Kian—
calling, searching. And he'd been brought here.

To the focal point of a nightmare.
Only now, the landscape was different. The wind was calm;

the sky wasn't quite as black. There were no tree branches
snatching at him.

He peered through the bars blocking his entrance; saw the

familiar stone maze within. This time he could also see tufts
of red silk sticking out from the mortar.

Kian was in there, he was sure of it.
Paul grabbed the right side of the gate, meaning to wrench

it open. The ice-cold bars seared his palms, and he yanked
his hands away. His skin stung as he stared at the gate in
shock.

He'd never been denied entrance to a maze before.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself calm and studied

the bars. One side was made of the same black iron that
comprised the scorpion on the overthrow. But the other was
made of a different, brighter metal.

Platinum.
Cautiously, he reached out, touched the bars on the left

side. They were warm, painless against his skin.

"Kian," he murmured, pulling on the gate.
It didn't open.
He frowned. Tried again with the same result.

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"Kian," he called. "Open the gate!"
No response from inside, and the gate remained locked.
Desperation twisted into him and his hands tightened

around the bars. He shook them as hard as he could, his
muscles straining as the gate rattled. He put his entire body
into trying to pry it open, and nothing worked.

Why wouldn't Kian let him inside?
Shouting his frustration, he kicked the gate—both the iron

and platinum sides. "You told me I had a choice!" He
slammed his fist into the lock binding the two sides together.
"Well, it's my choice to enter!"

When he received no acknowledgment, he grabbed the

bars again and tried to force himself in. "You son of a bitch!"
he yelled, unsure whether he meant Kian or the other one.
"Let ... Me ... In!"

Silence, and the fight seeped out of him.
It wasn't Kian's fault. The incubus was probably suffering

too much to even hear him. Paul couldn't imagine being fused
with another person against his will. It was physical and
psychological rape, and it would go on forever if Paul couldn't
figure this out.

The thought broke him, and his voice hushed. "I shouldn't

have yelled when you tried to explain the truth to me. I
should have asked you questions, let you teach me about
dream walking." He dropped his forehead against the
platinum bars. "Kian, if you let me in, I'll tell you things.
Secret things."

A faint click, and Paul straightened. Holding his breath, he

pulled on the gate, and it swung open.

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He exhaled softly. "Thank you."
Walking in, he studied his surroundings. He couldn't see

above the walls, which meant he'd have to travel this maze
without knowing what kind it was. A perfect maze could be
solved by placing his hand on one wall and simply following
it—the method could be time consuming, but was usually
effective. However, if the goal of the maze was to reach its
center, and the center was bordered with a closed circuit...

Then following the wall would just lead him back to the

beginning.

He glanced down out of habit, checking for a worn path

that others might have followed.

Knowing immediately that was useless, he lifted his head.

No sun in the sky to help him keep track of his position. Other
than the trees just inside the gates, there were no other
landmarks visible above the walls. He was blind.

No choice but to go forward. Look for clues.
Paul strengthened his resolve and walked down the stone

path. When he reached the first junction, he looked left, right.

The wall at the end of the right corridor was shadowed,

indicating that the path around the corner was probably
blocked off by three walls. A dead end. He looked left again
and saw it was much brighter.

Left, then.
The choice at the next junction was not as simple. Both

paths seemed bright.

Paul caught the faint scent of chocolate coming from the

right, and turned that way. The scent faded all too quickly,

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but he continued in that direction, taking his time, searching
for clues.

He came across a stone ledge embedded into the wall.

Pausing, he reached out and picked up a wooden box
displayed on the shelf. A red ribbon was etched into the
sides; a skillful, elaborate bow had been carved and placed on
the top of it.

A present, begging to be unwrapped.

He touched the bow, found that it rotated. Spinning it

didn't open the box, however. He should have known. It was
rarely that easy.

Searching for movable parts, he ran his fingers along the

panels, the edges. The panel on the bottom gave a bit, but
didn't slide. He turned it over, applied even pressure with his
thumbs. It moved, but only an eighth of an inch.

Frowning in concentration, he turned the box over again

and found another moving panel. This one slid down a
fraction of an inch, and when it did, all it took was a spin of
the bow and a gentle push to open the box.

Paul looked inside, saw a spark and then...
Nothing.
Wait. Where was the clue?
Before he had a chance to take a closer look at the box, it

vanished in his hands.

This wasn't right. Solving a puzzle always rewarded him

with a clue. A direction to go, an object to keep. Something.

"Kian," he whispered. "What's going on?"

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Left with no choice, he continued down the corridor. The

twists and turns had no reason to them, which made sense,
he supposed. This maze was two minds fused together, after
all.

The next puzzle was an iron cylinder set on a recessed

stone in the wall. He pulled it out, saw a golden star stuck
inside.

"A cage," he murmured, turning it around in his hands. It

took him several minutes to open it up—twisting the dials on
the top and bottom to slide the bars into the correct
sequence. When the cage fell apart in his hands, the star flew
into the sky and blinked out of sight.

A burst of wind howled through the maze as the cylinder

disintegrated. Paul stood straight against the air as it whipped
over him, waiting for it to calm.

"Didn't like that, did you?" asked Paul. "You hate it when

people come along and free what you think is yours."

The wind howled once more before dying out, and Paul

moved on. Sometimes, he caught the scent of chocolate, or
roses. At others, he noticed that certain walls contained more
red silk than others, so he followed their trail. Sometimes he
chose paths simply because they were brighter.

An hour. Then two. He solved more puzzles, but they were

all like those first two—no clues or objects inside. How could
that be? How could there be ... nothing?

What did Kian need?
He ran his hand along the wall, pausing when his fingers

caressed a swatch of silk. On impulse, he lifted it up, his eyes

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widening when he saw framed paintings attached to the stone
underneath.

Paul, how he must have looked four years ago when he

freed Kian from the dungeon. Paul, when he was at the
charity gala earlier this year. Paul, sleeping on a bed covered
in rose petals.

"I think I understand," he said softly, and the pictures

faded. He released the silk, walked one last corridor, and hit a
dead end.

Only it wasn't a dead end. He could feel it was something

more.

"Let me in," he told the wall in front of him. "Please."
A set of shimmering letters appeared on the stone.

I am every dirty thought,

every sweat-drenched urge you've ever had.

I am the fire that fuels your libido.

What am I?

"You're an incubus," answered Paul. A smile touched his

lips. "You're Kian."

The riddle dimmed, replaced by another. This one the color

of blood.

What goes on four legs in the morning,

on two legs at noon,

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and on three legs in the evening?

Paul narrowed his eyes. "The Riddle of the Sphinx. The

answer to that is 'man.' His life as it follows the path the sun
travels in a day. At least, that's what you want me to say, so
I'll be shut out."

He stepped closer, mentally reviewing everything he'd

seen in this labyrinth. "But it's a lot more personal for you,
isn't it? You started out as a baby on all fours, you walked on
two legs in the prime of your life, and—when Kian escaped
you—you were left an old man. Now, though, you're just like
the sun. You're reborn. And eternal."

The words turned black, and the ground beneath his feet

rumbled as the wall sank downward. Knowing the real trial
was about to begin, Paul entered a dark clearing and saw the
man who looked so much like Kian. "Hello."

The ... The fusion growled at him. "You. Get out of here!"
"I can't," said Paul, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I

don't know how to wake up without fulfilling the goal of the
dream."

"There is no goal to this dream! That contemptible Croft

Wizard trapped me here!"

Paul kept his appearance calm as he looked Davis over.

The man wore a black sweater with slacks just as dark—not
Kian's style at all. "You're one to talk. Didn't you do the same
to Kian?"

Quieting down, Davis approached, his bronze eyes sharp.

"Is that why you've come? To try and free your lover?" He

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circled Paul, but didn't touch him. "It can't be done, dream
walker. Kian sealed a valid contract with me."

As a lawyer, Paul was familiar enough with intimidation

tactics, and wasn't impressed. "It's not valid. I'm here to set
it aside."

Davis stopped in front of him. "If I kill you here, you'll die

in real life. Don't you even have that much sense?"

Paul searched his eyes, looking for some spark of Kian.

"You won't kill me."

"Oh?" He leaned closer. "And what makes you so sure?"
"If I've made it here, then it means I have something you

want."

His lips curled into a sneer. "What could you possibly give

me?"

Paul knew better than to reveal his hand so soon. "Let me

talk to Kian."

"Kian doesn't exist anymore."
"He does," said Paul. "I've seen traces of him all over this

place." He thought he saw a spark in the other man's eyes
and focused on it. "Did you hear me, Kian? I can see you."
The spark flickered brighter and he smiled. "I liked the
portraits you have. Your memories of me."

Davis squeezed his eyes shut, and the spark was gone

when he reopened them. "He's mine. We'll never be parted
again."

Paul made a show of appearing untroubled as he glanced

up at the empty sky. "The first time I was in one of Kian's
dreams, all he wanted was his freedom. But when I moved to
unlock his chains, he did everything he could to stop me. I

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was a stranger to him, and he still couldn't bear the thought
of causing me pain." He lowered his head, met Davis's gaze.
"Would you like to hear what he wants this time?"

Davis hesitated, but couldn't seem to stop himself. "Wh-

What is it?"

"Usually, when I reach this point in the dream, I have

something physical to give the dreamer. That didn't happen
this time. None of the puzzles granted me anything. Not even
the box carved to look like a present." He paused, fingered
the silver pin at the center of his tie. "By the way, Kian. I
wore this suit for you. It's the same one I was wearing the
night you found me in the lobby of my firm."

Those bronze eyes shimmered briefly before Davis shouted

at Paul. "Stop talking to him! Tell me."

Egomaniacal. To the point that it didn't matter what Paul

was saying, as long as he was the center of attention.

"It took me a long time to figure it out," said Paul. His

mouth crooked. "I never was good with the emotional
component."

The locks of hair on the left side of Davis's head began to

grow longer, to curl forward and frame his face. "Get on with
it," he gritted out.

Paul shrugged, pretending not to notice. "The pictures

tipped me off. No one else was in them. Just me." His gaze
dipped, touched on that full, sensual mouth. "I'm what he
wants, and he can have me if he comes out."

Kian-Davis stepped forward, reached for him with his left

hand. "Paul..."

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Davis roared and jumped back. His hair shortened into a

more conservative, even length. "I can't kill you, so I'll do the
next best thing!"

Paul's focus sharpened. "You can't kill me?"
Davis stopped short, obviously realizing he'd said too

much. "I can raise a wall around you so thick that you'll never
break free. You'll never awaken."

Asher had told him this was dangerous, and Paul rubbed

the palm of his hand as he remembered not one, but two
injuries put there by a dream. But he didn't back down. "You
forget, Mr. Davis, that I also know what you want."

The fusion prowled in a tight circle before running up to

Paul. "There's nothing I want."

"You're obsessed with immortality and Kian. You achieved

them. So what now?"

"What now?" Kian-Davis stilled. "I ... I don't know."
Keeping his attitude casual, Paul walked past him, took in

the landscape. The grey stone beneath his feet stretched out
for miles, and the maze had disappeared. "I see it sometimes,
with clients who spend years entangled with an intense case.
Once it's over, they search for something—anything—else to
sue for."

Paul glanced over his shoulder. "You need to switch the

focus of your obsession. A man like you—it has to be power.
My power. Because your puzzles didn't have anything inside
of them, either."

Davis snorted. "You think too highly of yourself."
"Whether I do or not doesn't change the facts. I traveled

the maze, I made it to you, and all I have is myself. There's

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only one possible explanation." He turned to face Kian-Davis
again. "At this moment in time, what both you and Kian want
most ... is me."

The fusion's eyes shimmered, but otherwise his

appearance didn't change. "What's so special about you?"

What was so special? Paul had never understood, but he

offered the one answer he had. "Kian loves me."

He gasped, then hardened. "He doesn't. He can't."
"He can, and he does." Paul focused on Kian. "I believe

that, beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Kian took a step forward, and Davis wrenched away,

prowling again. "He's mine. Do you hear me, dream walker?
Mine!"

All traces of Kian vanished, and Paul stared at the fusion.

If this were a courtroom, he would have had the proper time
to prepare. He could have gathered evidence, formulated the
best course of action. Now, though, he only saw Kian slipping
away.

"I'm so fucking useless," said Paul, his voice soft. "I'd give

you my power—all of it—if you'd just set Kian free. But that
won't work because Kian is too precious to you. A star
burning inside a cage." He glanced down at the cold, hard
ground. "It's happening again. What good am I if I can't ... if
I can't..." His words lodged in his throat.

"Please don't cry, Paul."
He glanced up, his eyes wide. "Kian?"
The fusion growled at him through clenched teeth. "No."
Paul moved closer. "Fight him, Kian. The contract's not

valid, and I can prove it if you come out."

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Kian's eyes shimmered wildly, and the fusion fell to his

knees. "You will always be with me!"

Kian lifted his head, met Paul's gaze. "Paul, I..."
Davis roared, his face turning red with rage. "Shut up!"
Just as suddenly, Kian's gentleness resurfaced. "There are

so many things I wish to do with you."

Davis curled forward, gripped his hair tight. "Stop it!"
The fusion whimpered.
God. Kian was in so much pain. Without thinking, Paul

dropped into a crouch. "Shh."

Kian-Davis shuddered, tears rolling down his face.
Paul wracked his mind for anything that might distract

them from the agony.

Tell me things.

The gate into Kian's mind had only opened when he'd

promised to do just that. Paul leaned forward, caught the
fusion's gaze. "I have a secret. One I've never told anyone.
Not my father, not Asher. I'll share it with you. Here. Now."

Kian-Davis blinked, but it was Davis who spoke. "With both

of us?"

"If that's the way it has to be."
Davis narrowed his eyes. "What sort of secret?"
"A horrible one. Kian might even stop loving me if he

learns it."

Kian's brow furrowed. "That would never..."
"—Then why share it?" asked Davis, cutting him off.

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"He needs to know it. He needs to realize that I'm not

worth loving." Because if he understands that, thought Paul,
he might be able to break the contract on his own.

The fusion was silent a long time. Then Kian and Davis

spoke as one.

"Tell me."
Paul swallowed hard. "When I was nine, my mother died."
"I know," said Kian, his voice soft.
Davis snorted. "Lots of mothers die. What kind of secret is

that?"

Paul tried to keep his face impassive, but he couldn't.

Although he hadn't thought it was possible, admitting this
aloud hurt even more than admitting it to himself. "It's my
fault she died."

Kian-Davis went silent.
His nerves raw, Paul forced himself to continue.

"Remember that night, when you tried to send me a dream?
The vision I saw was of her being murdered. I thought it was
just a dream ... and then you told me what I was. I
remembered everything, and it was too much for me to take."

"What happened?"
Paul studied the fusion, but he couldn't discern which half

had spoken. He heard the clack of high-heels against asphalt
and knew what was coming. "Do you hear that?"

Kian-Davis glanced up. "Yes."
Rising to his feet, Paul turned toward the source of the

sound. "I think you'll be able to see all of it this time."

As Kian-Davis stood, a red brick building materialized in

the distance. A parking lot stretched out in front of it, a single

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car on one of its farthest edges. The footsteps grew louder,
and a tall, slender woman walked toward them.

Catherine Graham, on her way home after staying late to

grade the last of her papers.

"Is that her?" asked Kian. "Is that your mother?"
"Yes," said Paul, his gaze locked onto the familiar scene.
Even Davis's voice softened. "She's quite ... lovely."
"She was, at that. She smiled all the time." A hollow

chuckle escaped him. "She's even smiling now."

Kian took a step forward. "Perhaps she's excited by the

prospect of seeing you." He turned his head to look at Paul,
his eyes shimmering. "I often find myself smiling when I
know we'll be together soon."

"Then her focus was misplaced," said Paul, staring at the

scene unfolding before them. "As is yours."

Kian jumped, and Davis resurfaced. "He really is going to

hate you after this, isn't he?"

Paul's jaw ticked. "I'm only going to show this once, so I

suggest you pay attention."

The fusion turned his head to watch Catherine walk toward

her car. She wore a sky-blue cashmere sweater with a long
navy skirt. Her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders as
she fumbled to find her keys in her oversized purse. She
smiled when she found them. She smiled when she slipped
the key into the lock.

It startled Paul, that his memories were so clear. Because

they weren't his memories. They were hers.

The shadowed figure that crept up behind her wasn't so

clear. A man, dressed in black and wearing a black skull-cap.

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His face was blurred. Maybe because Catherine had never
gotten a good look. Maybe because Paul had erased the
image from his own mind.

The faceless man grabbed Catherine from behind just as

she opened the car door, held a knife to her throat. He
wrenched open the backdoor and tried to shove her inside.

Catherine struggled.
Paul forced himself to keep his eyes open.
She kicked at her attacker, managed to scramble away a

few feet before he lunged at her, toppling them both to the
ground. The two of them were motionless for several, eerily
calm breaths, and then...

The man sat up, his hands shaking as he pulled the knife

from her abdomen.

As blood poured onto the black asphalt, the killer threw the

knife away and ran for the car. He started the engine.

"Please," whispered Catherine, reaching for him. "I ... I

have a family."

Tires squealing, the killer sped out of the parking lot.
"Help," said Catherine. "Help."
"M-Mom?" A little boy, with dark hair and bright blue eyes,

ran toward her. "Mom!"

Her eyes widened. "Paul?"
The boy ran for her, tripped over his too-long pajamas. He

slammed into the ground, cried out when his palm was sliced
open by the discarded knife.

Catherine tried to crawl toward him, but her body had

already lost too much blood. "Paul..."

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Forgetting his injury, Paul scrambled to her side. "Mom!

What happened!" He looked around, his small body shaking.
"So much blood..."

"It really is you." Catherine reached out, took his hand in a

tight grip to stem the blood flowing from his palm. "I'm sorry.
Oh, God. I'm so sorry."

Unable to comprehend what was happening, the younger

Paul gathered her in his arms the best he was able. "Sorry for
what?"

"I ... I cried for help. And you heard me." She caressed the

arms wrapped around her. "So gifted."

For the first time, he saw the cut on her stomach. "You're

hurt! This blood is yours!"

"Shh," she soothed. "It's okay."
"It's not okay!" He looked around, confused and scared. "I-

I have to find help. I have to get Dad!"

"Paul," she said gently. "There's no one else here. This is a

dream. You remember what I told you about dreams, right?"

"Th-They're magic." He took off his shirt, pressed it to her

wound. "We use them to help people. Like I helped the boy in
the box. And sometimes we make friends."

"Yes," she said, and even through her increasing

exhaustion, there was pride in her tone. "That's exactly
right."

Tears filled Paul's eyes as he awkwardly held the shirt to

her abdomen with one hand while wrapping the other arm
around her shoulders. "I don't know how to help you."

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"You can't help me, sweetie." She took a deep, shuddering

breath. "I must have passed out, replayed this scene in my
dream. Some people, they dream, even while dying."

"Dying? No..." Paul squeezed his eyes shut. "I'll dream a

doctor. A good one! Then you'll be okay."

"Paul." She lifted her hand, caressed the tears from his

face. "It's too late. You have to leave now, or you could die
with me."

"No!" He hugged her tight. "I don't want to leave you!"
Her eyes brightened with tears of her own. "I know,

sweetie. I don't want you to leave me either. But the dream is
already sinking in to you. My memory is becoming your
memory. You have to go."

"I won't!" Paul buried his face in her hair. "Please ...

Mommy ... Please don't die. I-I'll be really really good. I'll
work hard with my dreams. I'll get good grades." His body
shuddered. "Just don't go away. Tell me how to save you."

A sob broke from her.
Paul straightened, panicked as he stroked her hair. "I-I'm

sorry for making you cry."

"No, honey." She smiled. "I'm crying because I'm so happy

to have a son like you."

More tears streamed down his face. "Then stay."
The edges of the scene began to erode; darkness

encroached on mother and son. Catherine looked around,
obviously disturbed by the sight. Paul didn't notice, his gaze
locked on his mother.

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"I won't leave you alone, Mom. I'll stay right here until

someone comes to help you in the real world. I can't live
without you."

Catherine stared up at him a long moment. "Come closer,

Paul."

Sniffling, he leaned down and touched their noses

together. "Please don't leave."

She straightened, just enough to press a kiss onto his

forehead. "Forgive me," she whispered.

Paul's voice went soft. "For what?"
Catherine threaded her fingers through his hair. "Even in

those cold, dark corners hidden in dreams, this fire will burn
forever."

"What is that?" he asked, his voice hushed as his eyes

began to droop. "A riddle?"

"Yes. A very special riddle. It belongs to you, and you

alone."

"What's ... What's the answer?"
Catherine's hand fell onto his lap. "You have to solve it.

The day you do will be the day you discover that you can live
without me. I promise."

"But Mom..." His head nodded forward.
"You're tired," said Catherine. "Go to bed."
"But..."
"Go on," she said, smiling at him. "And no sneaking

cookies on the way. All those sweets will give you cavities."

Paul kissed her on the cheek. "Goodnight, Mom."
"Goodnight, my darling Paul."

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His face blanked as he stood, walked out of the dream. His

body vanished just before the darkness enveloped his
mother. Then...

Nothing. No one.
The present-day version of Paul rubbed the ache in his

palm. "You understand now, don't you? Why you should hate
me."

"What?" The fusion spun. "No!"
Knowing he had Kian's full attention, he leaned forward.

"My mother was bleeding to death, and I just left her. Then I
blocked all memories of that night from my mind." He shook
his head. "I don't deserve anyone's love, and I certainly don't
deserve the kind of sacrifice you've made for me."

Kian's eyes shimmered, shining bright with emotion. "Paul

... Do you not understand? That was..." He turned, looked
into the darkness where Catherine had been. "That was a
spell. Your mother cast a spell."

Paul's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
He pointed toward the darkness. "If you had stayed by

your mother's side, you could have been dragged along with
her when she slipped away. She cast a spell to make you
leave. For your own good."

Even now, Kian tried to make him happy. He hadn't

appreciated it before, and now he had to throw it back in his
face. For Kian's own good. "Through dreams, I have the
power to affect change in the waking world. Isn't that what
you said?"

Kian paused, nodded.

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"I could have saved her, and I walked away." He kept his

face cool, expressionless. "I'm a monster."

Kian shook his head, disbelief shaping his features. "You

cannot truly believe that. You were only a child."

"I do believe that," said Paul, trying not to lose sight of his

goal in the face of his self-hatred. "And you should, too. I let
her down; she died. Now the same thing is happening to
you." Paul leveled him with a cool gaze. "Don't let it happen.
Don't slip away in some misguided attempt to save me. I'm
not worth it."

His lips parted. "Paul..."
The fusion's face twisted with anger. "You fool!" growled

Davis. "Can't you see that he's responsible for his mother's
death? Do as he says! Hate him."

Kian's eyes widened. "Such a sweet man could never..."
"He's not a saint, Kian!" Davis yanked at his own hair.

"He's just as sullied as the rest of us!"

The fusion's chest contorted, and another low growl

escaped it. Except this one was more familiar. It belonged to
Kian. "I love..."

"Stop it!" screamed Davis. "Don't love him. Love me!"
Paul's breath caught. He'd been mistaken earlier, when he

thought that Davis had wanted his power. Davis wanted Paul
because Kian wanted Paul. "You twisted son of a bitch," he
said, his soft voice cutting through the fusion's inner chaos.
"Taking what's good about me won't change things. Kian
coming to his senses and hating me won't get you what you
want, either. You can't make him feel things for you that
aren't there. Even I know that."

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Kian-Davis paced the stone floor, their legs moving

erratically, out of sync. "You know nothing! Kian is mine. He's
always been mine. He'll always be mine!" Davis turned, his
madness coloring his skin a sick shade of red. "In time, he'll
realize that." He grinned maniacally as he spread his hands.
"And now, we have all the time in the world."

"All the time in the world," murmured Paul. "Kian, I want

you to do a cost-benefit analysis. Weigh the benefits of me—a
man with a limited life-span who let his own mother die, and
then forgot about it—against the cost of your sacrifice."
Walking slowly, he closed the distance between them.
"Trapped forever in a prison with a raving lunatic."

The fusion stared at him, his body shaking as his breath

came harsh through his mouth.

"Kian," said Paul, his voice level. "I've come here as your

lawyer, and as your lawyer, I'm telling you that the cost does
not justify such a paltry benefit."

"Paul," he whispered, tilting his head to the side. "I..." His

voice trailed as the color faded from his eyes.

Fingers of cold gripped at Paul's chest. "Kian?"
The copper in his hair bled away.
Swallowing hard, he tried again. "Kian?"
No answer, and soon all the color in him was gone. Even

the black from Davis's clothing.

Paul stared at the fusion's grey skin. "Richard Davis?" His

voice dropped to a whisper. "Anyone?"

Nothing. No one.

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For the first time, Paul risked touching the fusion. He laid

his hand against Kian-Davis's cheek, imagined he was only
touching Kian. "Please don't leave."

A sick, splintering sound filled the air as fissures appeared

under Paul's fingers, spread out to engulf the fusion's face.

Paul snatched his hand away, but it was already too late.

The fissures snaked down his grey neck, his colorless torso,
his stiff arms and legs.

"No," begged Paul, helpless once again. "Please don't..."
The cracks covering the fusion's body widened, and chunks

of him fell to the floor.

"Stop!"
But there was no stopping it, just like there was no

stopping it before.

The pieces kept dropping to the floor, crumbling into a pile

at his feet. Paul stared, uncomprehending, at what used to be
his lover.

His chest hitched as he scrubbed at his face. "Oh, God." He

fell to his knees. "This isn't happening." Rocking himself back
and forth, he desperately tried to find a solution to this. "I ...
I don't know what to do."

He forced himself to look at the debris, surprised to find

that it wasn't chunks of flesh, or even stone. It was a pile of
... stuff.

A tea kettle. A cauldron with a scorpion etched into its

side. A set of iron chains...

Was this some kind of puzzle? Had Kian and Davis come

apart at the seams?

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And, if so, how the hell was he supposed to put Kian back

together?

Paul picked up a mirror, turned it around in his hands. He

had no idea what to do with it.

"Kian..." He set the mirror down, looked at the other

objects. "Someone, help me."

The world around him began to darken.
His head snapped up. "No! I need to see this if I'm going

to have a chance at solving it!"

The light continued to dim. Soon Paul would be alone in

pitch blackness.

Magic. He had magic, didn't he? He'd made the memories

of his mother's death visible. He could make light for himself.

Paul took a breath, trying to calm himself enough to

concentrate. He imagined ceiling lights, lamps, night-lights,
starlight, sunlight—

His mind was racing too quickly. He couldn't keep an

image in his head long enough to form it.

"Focus," he hissed at himself. "Focus."
But it just kept getting darker.
A sob, wet and loud and taking him by surprise, burst from

his chest. "D-Don't worry, Kian. I'll figure this out. I will."

An unseen woman spoke a phrase into his ear. Not an

entirely welcome phrase, given the current circumstances.

Even in those cold, dark corners hidden in dreams,

this fire will burn forever.

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Paul glanced up, searching for his mother. No one was

there. Not that he'd know if there were. He could barely see
his hand in front of his face at this point.

Even in those cold, dark corners hidden in dreams...

"Be quiet!" Paul yelled into the darkness. "I'm trying to

think! I'm trying to..."

He straightened, interpreting the riddle in a way he never

had before.

This place, this moment, was a dream. It was cold, and

dark.

Paul frowned.
Kian was always talking about his fire. And Kian was

immortal.

"This fire will burn forever," he murmured, before diving

into the pile in front of him. He shuffled things around, sifting
through the seemingly unrelated objects.

"Come on," he gritted out. "You've got to be here."
A faint orange and red glow caught his eye; he brushed

aside the objects on top of it. Total darkness descended and,
without thinking, he grabbed for the light.

It was small—no bigger than a golf ball—but there was no

denying what it was.

Fire. The only source of light in the dreamscape. Slowly,

carefully, Paul blew a stream of air across its surface. The tiny
flame burned brighter in response to the caress.

It didn't hurt, holding the fire. Not even when it swelled to

fill both palms of his hands. It felt warm, and sensual, as it
licked at his skin. Inviting. Playful. Gentle.

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"Kian," said Paul, his voice hushed. "This must be Kian's

heart."

The fire glowed brilliantly and floated out of his palms. It

settled in the air a few feet away from him, at the level Kian's
heart would rest in his body. Light spilled over Paul,
illuminating the objects at his knees. He looked them over,
picked up a string of Christmas lights. As soon as he touched
them, they blinked to life, and the lights chased a path from
one hand to the other.

Kian liked lights. He liked candles, city skylines, sunlight

reflected in puddles on the sidewalk. Despite his experience
and sexual prowess, the incubus could be surprisingly
innocent at times.

Uncertain, Paul glanced up at the ball of fire. "Kian's ...

Kian's sense of wonder?"

The ball pulsed faintly, but nothing else happened.
Paul forced his voice firm. "Kian's sense of wonder."
The lights floated out of his hands, coiled around Kian's

heart, and vanished.

Panic started to overtake Paul, until he saw the barely

visible outline of Kian's body around the still burning heart.

"Alright." He returned his attention to the pile before him.

"If I have to put you back together piece by piece, then so be
it."

He picked up the mirror he'd seen earlier. It was heavy—

the handle and frame was made of solid gold. The glass itself
had been polished to perfection.

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This was an object of vanity. Kian was confident in his own

appeal; he didn't need proof that he was attractive. So this
must belong to the other one. To Davis.

Paul set the mirror aside.
He found the tea kettle; saw that it was made of copper.

He almost named it as Kian's, but then he thought to smell
the contents. The scent made him gag. Medicinal herbs that
had gone rancid.

Knowing that Kian used magic to heal injuries, and would

never drink something so foul, he set that aside as well.
Davis's obsession to stop the aging process, probably, but
Paul didn't care enough to think beyond that, or to say it
aloud.

He pulled a set of thick iron chains from the pile. He knew

instantly what this was, but ... Should he say it? Wouldn't
Kian be happier without it?

Dreams are everything we are—our hopes, fears, passions.

If Kian was to be whole, then he needed all the pieces that

made him Kian.

Paul held up the chains. "Kian's fear."
The chains disappeared into the outline, and the outline

grew a little more solid. His eyes strained as he tried to make
out more features, but it was too early for that.

A cat, tawny and sleek, nudged Paul's hand with its head.

Surprised, Paul stroked its silken fur. "Who are you?"

The cat purred, rubbed its body along Paul's thigh.
Paul smiled, stroked it under its chin. "You're Kian's

sensuality."

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Still purring, the cat vanished.
Paul sifted through the pile for hours, looking for traces of

Kian. The pieces that belonged to Davis didn't interest him, so
he tossed them into a pile of their own.

"Kian's humor."
"Kian's sweet tooth."
"Kian's determination."
Each time Paul returned one of the pieces, the form taking

shape beside him grew clearer. No clothes, but that didn't
seem so important. He could almost see his face now. Just a
little more...

His fingers closed around a leather whip, and his eyes

widened. He almost set it into Davis's pile, before
remembering that Kian had a temper, too.

"Kian's anger."
The whip vanished, and there were two objects left. A

ornate gold watch, and a key on a simple chain.

Paul chose the key, ran his fingers along the platinum

chain. It was identical to the one he'd given to the incubus at
his side. The key to his house.

But why would this be one of the pieces? What did it

represent?

He rose to his feet, stared at Kian's unmoving form. The

flames of his heart were just barely visible.

"Why is this so important to you?" he asked softly, holding

up the chain.

The fire inside Kian pulsed warmly, spreading light

throughout the incubus's body.

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Paul stared at him a long moment, before looping the

chain around Kian's neck. Leaning forward, he spoke the
words into his ear. "Kian's love for me."

The figure solidified, took a deep breath. Kian tilted his

head back and smiled up at him. "Hello, Paul."

Soft, shaky laughter escaped him. "It worked. It really

worked."

"Yes." Kian reached up to stroke his cheek. "You are a

gifted cipher. I was able to break the seams of the fusion
spell, but only you could reform me."

Paul raised a trembling hand, traced Kian's lips with the

pads of his fingers. "You're smaller. Did I ... Did I miss a
piece?"

He shook his head. "Breaking the seams drained me." He

leaned close, licked Paul's ear. "I'm starved for you. Our next
joining will be quite the test of your stamina, I'm sure."

Hot pleasure shuddered through Paul.
Chuckling, Kian stepped back. "I love you, Paul. I've not

yet had the opportunity to tell you directly."

Remembering what he'd shared, Paul glanced away. "Even

after learning what I did to my mother?"

Kian glided his hands down Paul's chest, drawing back his

gaze. "You tried to get me to hate you, to give me the
strength to break the fusion spell." The incubus looked up, his
warm bronze eyes shimmering. "But I needed to tell you of
my love, and that you are not to blame for your mother's
death. Richard wouldn't let me say the words, and that is
what gave me the strength to break free."

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The other one. Paul spun and found that Davis was still a

pile of junk. "All the pieces are there. Why isn't he whole?"

Kian's voice held a mixture of anger and pity. "Because he

isn't whole. Richard has no soul, and the soul is the glue that
holds us together."

Paul turned, looking down at him. "Is he conscious? In

pain?"

The incubus smiled, making his heart skip a beat. "You are

such a sweet man." He pulled Paul close, nuzzled the curve of
his neck. "I do not know, nor do I..." He stiffened.

"What's wrong?" asked Paul, slipping his arms around him.
Shoving Paul behind his body, Kian dropped his voice. "It

appears we have one answer. Richard is conscious."

"He is?" Paul followed his gaze, and nausea roiled in his

stomach.

Oil, black and slick, had poured over the pile that had been

Richard Davis. Somehow, it fused the objects together, gave
them life as they twitched and squirmed. The pile stretched
higher, twisted to form arms or ... tentacles. They looked
more like tentacles. No eyes in the round blob that could have
been the head. No nose or ears.

Just a big, gaping maw that passed for a mouth.
"Kian is..." The rest of the sentence was a gurgling mess.

Davis sucked and slurped the fetid oil down his maw. "Kian ...
is ... mine."

Kian held a protective hand against Paul's hip. "Stay

behind me."

Davis howled. "Away from human! Dear incubus ... mine!"

He staggered toward them. "Mine. Only mine!"

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Stunned, Paul could only watch him approach. After all

that had happened, Davis still had just one desire, one
obsession.

Kian.
The incubus stood his ground. "Come no closer, wizard."
One of Davis's tentacles lashed out, sliced Paul across the

forearm.

Kian jerked his head around, saw the blood drawn, and

met Paul's gaze. The bronze in the incubus's eyes burned
hotter, until it boiled. "Richard!" he shouted, turning his
attention back to the wizard. "You gave your word that he
would remain untouched!"

Davis snarled at them. "Contract broken ... Kill the human

... incubus and wizard together again ... Kill the human..."

"I'll not allow that," said Kian, a low growl of his own

flowing out of him.

"Can't stop me ... All powerful..."
"You forget, Richard." Kian raised his hand. "In this world,

my fire can be literal."

A ball of white-hot flame burst from Kian's palm, slammed

into the monster before them. It ignited the oil covering him,
and his entire body erupted into a blinding inferno.

"No!" shrieked Davis. "Kian!" He wrenched his leg forward,

leaving a burning print in its wake. Then he did the same to
the other foot, determined to reach them.

Kian hurled another ball of fire at him. And another.
"Kian." Davis fell, crawled over the stone floor. "Mine ...

Forever..."

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The incubus stepped back, guiding Paul to a safe distance.

Kian raised both his hands, and a wall of flame surrounded
Davis.

Howling at them, Davis swiped at the cage of fire.
"He cannot break free," said Kian, sounding relieved.
Paul stared at the fire, at the man—the thing—inside. "H-

He doesn't stop. He never st..."

The fire vanished, and every muscle in Kian's body tensed

as he raised his arm.

Paul was the one who realized what had happened first.

"Wait." He laid his hand on Kian's arm, coaxed it downward.
"He's not there."

Bit by bit, the tension left the other man's body. "Indeed.

He must have awakened."

If anything, Paul's nausea intensified. "Is his ... Is his body

in the other world intact? Or does it look like..." His gaze
drifted to the burning oil slicks on the stone in front of them.
"...that?"

"I do not know." Kian turned, reached for him. "But you

are safe now. You are..." His hands passed through Paul's
body.

Ice-cold fear gripped him. "Kian?"
His mouth worked, but no sound came out. His eyes

widened as he shook his head...

And faded from sight.
"Kian." Paul ran forward as the light vanished. "Kian!"
He tripped, fell to the floor. He groped around and realized

that even the stone had disappeared. "Kian," he called once
more, choking on fresh tears. The word sounded muffled, as

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if it couldn't penetrate the air around him. There was nothing.
No one.

Paul curled his body tight, tried to keep warm.
He was alone.

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Chapter Nineteen

Paul blinked against the darkness. He didn't know how

long he'd been here. Time lost all meaning when there was no
sound, no light.

Blowing out a slow breath, he sat up. Richard Davis was

gone. Kian was gone.

Why was he still here?
He should have gotten more details on dream walking

before diving in. It wasn't like him to jump into unfamiliar
situations unprepared. But then, he'd done a lot of things
totally out of character since meeting Kian.

His body tingled, and he gasped for air when a familiar fire

arced through his body. Just as suddenly, the sensation was
gone, leaving him trembling in its wake. He rubbed at his
chest, trying to figure out what had happened.

"Paul?"
Light filled the room, stung his eyes as they struggled to

adjust. When they could focus, he saw Kian standing before
him. Strange, that he didn't feel joy, or even relief, at the
realization that the incubus had returned. "Kian."

"Are you alright?"
"Fine." Paul's gaze traveled over him. "I see you've gotten

dressed. Or is that one of your illusions?" He chuckled, and
the sound was low, empty. "An illusion within a dream. It's
enough to make your head explode."

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Kian's eyebrows drew together. "Asher lifted the spell that

put you to sleep. But you won't awaken." He crouched low,
tilted his head to the side. "Why won't you awaken?"

"I don't know," he answered softly. "You and Asher ...

You're both in my house now?"

He nodded. "Zakai is there as well." His gaze drifted to

Paul's arm. "Asher used Zakai's magic to heal your injury,
since I did not possess enough for such a substantial task."

Paul glanced down, saw that the cut on his forearm had

disappeared. He hadn't noticed. "More magic."

"Yes. Asher tried to draw you from your slumber, but your

eyes remained closed." Kian caught his gaze. "So I charged
your body with sexual energy. It allowed me to slip onto this
dreamscape."

"Ah."
"Paul..." Kian reached for him, and his hand knocked

against an invisible barrier. Confusion shaped his features as
he felt along the surface. "It's cold." He rose to his feet,
pressing his hands against it. "What is this?"

Paul stood, touched the wall between them. He drew his

hand back and glanced at his fingers. "It's ice." He studied its
surface. "You can see patches of frost there. And there."

Kian pushed against it. "Why is it here?"
He shook his head. "I have no idea."
"Perhaps this is why you cannot awaken." His fingers

curled into a fist. "Stand back."

Paul stepped away from the barrier.
The incubus slammed his fist into the wall. No cracks

appeared, no dents. Frowning, he hit it again. And again.

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"Stop it," said Paul, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"You'll hurt yourself."

Kian cradled his hand against his chest, telling him that the

damage had already been done. "Perhaps fire can bring it
down." Walking to another part of the wall, he lifted his other
palm and set it parallel the barrier. A ball of fire hurtled out,
making it glow red a brief moment. Kian touched it, his hand
trembling. "No effect."

Paul watched him, feeling as cool as that wall. "I'm going

to sleep forever."

His eyes wide, Kian looked up. "Do not be frightened."
"I'm not scared."
Kian tilted his head to the side, walked along the perimeter

of the wall until they were in front of each other again. "Don't
you want to awaken?"

"Of course I want to wake up. I have a life."
"Yes," said Kian, smiling. "With me."
Paul glanced away. The chill in the air felt heavy on his

body, thick as he breathed it in.

Kian's voice fell to a whisper. "Why have you put this

barrier between us?"

His head shot up. "I didn't do this."
Pressing his hand flat against the ice, the incubus winced

at the discomfort it obviously caused him. "We are in your
dream. And this is your wall."

"This dark, desolate place is my dream?" Paul chuckled as

he walked over the floor with no texture. The incubus walked
next to him, on the other side of the barrier. "What does that
say about me?"

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Paul heard Kian's sharp intake of breath, even through the

wall, but didn't slow his pace.

They walked in quiet for a while. Then Kian broke the

silence.

"What do you feel for me?"
He paused. "What?"
"I proclaimed my love for you, but I've just realized that

you've never said what you feel."

His mouth crooked. "There wasn't exactly time, with the

psychotic wizard-monster thing trying to kill us, and you
vanishing right afterward."

"I am here now." Kian eased closer to the barrier. "Tell

me."

"You still want me to tell you things," murmured Paul.
The incubus looked unsettled, fragile. "Please."
He exhaled heavily. "Before I met you, my world was

simple, well-ordered. The plan I'd made for myself was on
track, and I was content."

"And now?"
"Now..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "My life is in

chaos. There are incubi and wizards and magic is everywhere.
Realities within realities. New cultures, new laws. I don't know
how to navigate it. I don't know what's going to happen from
one moment to the next." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I don't know anything anymore."

"You are no longer content?"
His hand fell away from his face. "No, Kian. I am no longer

content."

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This time when those bronze eyes shimmered, it wasn't

with magic. It was with tears. "You've locked yourself in
slumber to be away from me. I must..."

"I'm not finished."
Kian's mouth snapped shut.
"Remember what I told you earlier, about doing a cost-

benefit analysis?"

The incubus gave him a tentative nod.
"What I've just shared with you is the cost. In the

'benefits' column, we've got the best sex of my life, a range
of emotions I've never felt before, and a refrigerator filled to
bursting with sorbet and dewberries. You give me love, and
gifts, and you make me laugh. I believed the benefits
outweighed the costs." Paul glided his fingers along the ice
separating them. "I really did."

Kian's fingers went to trace the path Paul's had taken. "But

no longer?"

"No longer."
"Why?" he asked softly.
Paul stepped back from the barrier. "Because you broke

the one promise I asked you to make. Twice."

His brow furrowed. "I don't understand. What promise?"
"You said you would always tell me before you leave."
Kian's skin paled. "I had no choice but to leave you that

night. Richard would have murdered you in your sleep."

While he could see the other man's distress, it didn't touch

him. It was as if the ice from the barrier had seeped into his
body, his soul. "You should have told me."

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"I-I could not," said Kian, his words tumbling faster.

"There was no time to write a note, no time to call for help. I
rushed to save you the only way I could."

"And then I rushed in to help you, didn't I? Without

knowing what was going on and having no idea how to
accomplish the goal. I came in like some knight in shining
armor." He made a soft sound of distaste, and a new patch of
frost crept into the wall. "I don't even like fairy tales."

Kian pushed against the ice. "Paul..."
"Did you really think I wouldn't come after you? Did you

really think I'd just live the rest of my life complacent with
the knowledge that you were suffering?"

Another patch of frost appeared, obscuring Kian's hand

from view. Kian's gaze darted to it, back to him.

Paul spoke methodically, the way he would when facing

opposing counsel. "So I trusted Asher—who's apparently been
lying to me for years—to put me into a sleep state that I can't
wake up from. And when you were safe, you left me without
notice. Again."

"It wasn't like that!" Kian clawed at the wall, but no

scratches appeared in the ice. "I did not mean to awaken. I
returned as soon as I could."

"As soon as you could?" asked Paul, raising an eyebrow.

"You traveled with Asher to my house. While I was here." He
glanced around, heedless of the frost creeping down the wall
like a theater curtain. "Alone."

Kian's chest hitched, and his words sounded wet, as if they

were soaked in tears. "Y-You do not understand. When
Richard awoke, he was..." He shuddered. "And he was

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screaming. People were coming to investigate. Richard's
demon magic was dangerous, wild. Asher required most of his
own magic to restrain him, so he had no choice but to wake
me. And we had no choice but to vacate."

The curtain of frost reached the top of Kian's head, and his

hands burst into flame as he tried to force it back. "Please,
Paul. I came as quickly as was possible. I did everything I
could to return to you."

Paul watched the curtain descend. "I believe you."
The fire in the incubus's hands vanished. "Then why ...

why are you shutting yourself away from me? Why can we
not be together?"

Remembering how he'd felt when his world had gone

black, Paul knew he wasn't strong enough to go through it
again. "Kian, I need to be able to trust you in the midst of the
chaos you bring into my life. I can't do that, so the costs
outweigh the benefits."

"Costs ... Benefits..." Kian ducked his head in order to

maintain eye contact with him. "Do you love me?"

"I do," he said gently. "But love is rarely enough. I learned

that very young." His mouth curved in a faint smile. "And
then forgot the lesson."

"Don't do this, Paul. Whatever more you need, I shall give

you."

Paul looked away from the ice, into the darkness. "It's too

late."

"It's not! I swear it's not."
He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Kian."
A sob tore out of the incubus. "Stop this. I beg you."

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"I can't." He wasn't even sure what, exactly, was

happening. He just ... accepted it.

"Give me another chance. Please."
He felt the blood in his veins slowing down. He felt his skin

going numb. "No."

"But..."
His breathing went shallow. "You broke your promise."
"And I'd do it again!"
Paul's gaze shot to him.
Kian growled on the other side of the ice. "To save you, I

would do anything, sacrifice anything."

A small, thin crack appeared in the ice high above them.
As they stared up at it, Paul suddenly realized how cold he

really was. "Why are people so quick to die for me? I'm
nothing special."

Kian's tone gentled. "It is because you are brilliant, sweet,

courageous. You are beautiful in ways we can scarcely
comprehend. We cannot bear the thought of a world without
you in it."

Paul kept his gaze locked on that tiny sliver in the ice.

"That's why you let yourself get swallowed up by a lunatic?"

"Yes."
"Do you think that's why my mother sent me away?"
"When I saw her cast the spell, I believed she'd made the

right choice. It's the same choice I would have made."

When he'd been alone in the darkness, Paul had found

himself with a lot of time to puzzle things out, to find some of
the answers to his past. "She took my memories, my

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emotions." He lowered his head and met Kian's gaze. "Do you
think that's right?"

"Perhaps she did not realize the spell would have such far-

reaching consequences, that it would follow you into
adulthood. Perhaps she only sought to spare you pain."

A section of ice to their right fractured. Kian rushed to it,

shoved his shoulder against it, but the barrier was still too
strong.

Paul watched him struggle. "I don't think I want people to

spare me pain. It's mine, after all. Part of what makes me
who I am."

Kian straightened, stared back at him a long moment.

"You've had more than your share in the past weeks."

His eyebrows lifted. "Are you saying that if I awaken, you'd

still try to protect me?"

"I do not believe I'll be able to help myself."
At least he was being honest. That was something.
Kian returned to the center of the wall. "But my greatest

desire—always—is to be by your side."

The crack above them sizzled as it sealed itself shut. Paul

tilted his head back to look at it. "I suppose that means we've
taken a step backward."

"Paul, allow me to make you a new promise." His voice

was steady, serious. "Before, I did not understand the
importance of such words. Now I wish to make one with the
proper reverence."

A new one? He looked into those bronze eyes. "What

promise could possibly make me feel warm again?"

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"I promise that I'll love you, all my life, and even in

death."

A huge fissure splintered the ice between them, and Kian

disappeared from view.

Paul ran to a clearer part of the barrier. "Kian?"
"I'm here." In an instant he stood in front of Paul, pressed

his hand against the ice. "I'm here."

Tentatively, Paul laid his palm over Kian's. "Thank you. For

making that promise."

A soft smile curved his full lips. "Then you'll bring down the

wall?"

"I don't know how," he whispered.
Kian's smile trembled, slipped from his face. "I'll not leave

you."

An unexpected chuckle left Paul's chest. "Now I'm starting

to understand what my mother felt."

The incubus frowned. "What are you saying?"
"Who knows what damage being here is doing to you? You

should go."

Kian dropped his forehead against the ice. "I'll not leave

you."

Paul grinned—his first genuine smile since Kian's return. "If

I knew enough to cast a spell, you'd be gone already." He
tapped his knuckles against the wall. "There's no saving me,
Kian. God knows I don't want you to leave. But at least I'll
know where you are, and that you'll be keeping your
promise."

Kian didn't move. "The ice is cracking. If you keep

speaking to me, it may weaken enough to break."

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It always seemed to come back to this. "I've run out of

things to tell you. There's nothing left."

"No," Kian said softly, his fingers curling against the ice.

"You can tell me about your first kiss, your first sexual
experience."

The barrier was too cold, and Paul was forced to step away

from it. "I lost my virginity to you, remember?"

Kian looked up at him, grinning even as his eyes filled with

tears. "That was a glorious night."

Nodding strained the stiffening muscles in Paul's neck; he

did his best to hide the discomfort. "It was."

Despite the pain it must have caused him, Kian pressed

himself closer to the wall. "Don't say goodbye, Paul."

He hadn't realized he was about to say it. Seemed that the

incubus knew him better than he knew himself. "Don't worry
about my arrangements—Asher will know what to do about
those."

A tear slipped down Kian's cheek, froze against his skin.

"Stop it."

"You can keep the house, if you want. The key around your

neck would be useless without it. Technically, it belongs to
the firm, but I can think of three ways around that, so I'm
sure Asher will know five or six."

"Please."
Paul returned his hands to his pockets, not wanting Kian to

see that his fingers had turned blue. "Keep your promise,
alright? But I don't want you to be alone. Find someone new
to share all that fire with. Find someone else to love."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

259

"I'll share my fire with no one," wept Kian. "I'll love no

one."

"You can be content that way; I know that from

experience." Paul shook his head. "But trust me, life is better
with passion. Even when it breaks your heart." His gaze
dipped. "I wish I'd figured that out earlier."

"Paul," he begged, desperation suffusing his body, "find a

solution. You've been saving strangers all your life. You've
saved me twice. Now it's time to save yourself."

His brow furrowed. "Save myself?" This dream, his dream,

was unlike anything he'd encountered before. No mazes, no
puzzles, no—

A flash of light caught their attention, and they both looked

at the ball of fire that had appeared in the black sky. It
twisted, stretched itself out, formed words.

Even in those cold, dark corners hidden in dreams,

this fire will burn forever.

"I am well and truly sick of that riddle," said Paul.
"You must solve it!" Kian's eyes rounded as their gazes

met through the ice. "You must solve the riddle in order to
free yourself. You must cipher."

It hurt him, to see Kian have so much misplaced hope.

"I've already solved it."

He paused. "What was the answer?"
"Your heart. It was the first piece I found when I started

putting you together."

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260

Kian palmed his chest. "But how can something of mine be

the answer when that is not my riddle?"

This time it was Paul's turn to stop short. It wasn't Kian's

riddle. It was his. And he had to solve it to get what he
needed most. Paul glanced down at the black floor, his mind
racing as it burned through the lethargy brought on by the
frozen environment.

What was the answer? And what did he need?
Paul lifted his head, looked into Kian's eyes when he

solved it in one white-hot flash. "You," he said softly. "The
answer is still you."

Confusion and fear shaped his features. "Paul, you must

concentrate. I cannot be the answer because..."

"Before you, I was just like this wall. Cold, unfeeling. Then

you came along and set me on fire." He paced the darkness,
thinking aloud. "This ice ... It's trying to take me back, and
it's killing me."

He heard Kian gasp. But he also heard something else.

Water. Dripping water.

The barrier was beginning to melt.
Paul forced himself to think faster. "I've changed; in

irreversible, fundamental ways. It ... It often hurts."

"I'm sorry."
Paul glanced up and strode to the barrier. "Don't

apologize. It's part of life, isn't it?" He touched the ice, his
fingers no longer blue. "Because of you, I'm alive again. You
taught me to feel, made me strong enough to stand with you
in the chaos, and used your fire to melt my ice." He lifted his
hand, showed Kian the water on his fingers. "Just like now."

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261

The incubus grew cautious as he stared at Paul's hand. "I

am the cause of this?"

"Your fire burns inside me, even when you're not

physically at my side. I didn't understand that before, and I
almost let it die, almost died with it. I didn't realize that, even
when you vanish without notice, you're always with me." He
swept his palm over the wet wall. "That's right, isn't it?"

Water sluiced down the wall as Kian smiled. "My fire only

burns for you."

Paul laughed, stared up at the riddle. "I can live without

the ghosts of the past now. Because no matter how cold and
dark it might seem, I was never alone, and I never will be."
He lowered his head to look at Kian. "Love is the fire that
burns forever."

Steam rose from the surface of the barrier. They stared at

each other a timeless, surreal moment, before the wall
crashed down in a wave of water. It surged into Paul,
knocking him to the floor as it washed over him.

"Paul!"
He coughed, gasping for air as he arched his back. "That's

r-really cold."

Suddenly, Kian's warm hands were on him, dragging him

into a sitting position as they chased the chill away. "Are you
alright?"

"I th-think so."
Kian cupped his palm over Paul's cheek. "You're shivering."
Warmth spread down his face and neck as his eyes drifted

closed. "It's not so bad."

Paul's Dream

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262

The strong hands he'd missed so much worked his soaked

jacket off his body.

Paul's eyes snapped open. "What are you doing?"
"Divesting you of these freezing clothes." He undid the

knot in his tie, slid it off his neck.

Stunned, Paul watched nimble fingers unbutton his shirt.

"Shouldn't we wake up first?"

Kian pulled his arms from their sleeves. "I must make

certain that you'll survive the journey." He moved on to his
shoes, his socks. "I am not a dream walker. My magic is
passionate, but does not possess your delicacy or precision
with such tasks."

"Then tell me how to do it."
"Your magic is still frozen." Kian's own clothing burned

away, and he pressed his naked body close. "If you'd had
enough power to awaken, you would have done so by now."

Sparks of desire cascaded through his torso, his limbs.

Instinctively, Paul leaned forward to embrace the heat.

Kian wrapped a hard arm around him, briefly lifting his

hips off the floor to remove his slacks and then his boxers. "Is
that better?"

The water evaporated from the surface beneath them, and

tendrils of steam coiled around their bodies. Long fingers
threaded through Paul's hair, drying it with a fiery touch. He
groaned, his voice soft as he ached for more.

Kian straightened, licking Paul's lips before capturing his

mouth. Gentle, like always. The incubus slipped his tongue
forward, teased and rekindled the passion that had almost

Paul's Dream

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263

been extinguished. When he broke the kiss, Paul gripped his
hair, unwilling to lose the connection.

"Paul, my sweet." Kian purred into his ear. "How I've

missed you."

"Bedroom was so cold," he murmured, trailing his lips

down Kian's neck. "Without you, everything is cold."

Drawing Paul onto his lap, Kian nuzzled the curve of his

neck, ran the pads of his thumbs over his nipples. The
muscles in Paul's chest flexed under those skillful hands, and
his entire body jumped when Kian ducked his head and
nipped at his skin.

The incubus chuckled, let one of his hands dip to stroke

Paul's cock. "I've never known a fire such as this."

Paul gripped his shoulders, breathing hard as he let

himself get reacquainted with Kian's scorching touch. When
he could, he reached up, twisted his fingers into those long
copper locks, and tugged.

Smiling, Kian tilted his head back, his hand still stroking

Paul's dick.

Paul kissed that summer smile, brushing his lips over it.

Once. Twice. Then he delved in to taste and drink. Their
tongues moved in time with Kian's hand, fanning flames
already on the verge of blazing out of control.

Kian growled into his mouth, and suddenly Paul was on his

back, staring up at him with wide eyes. "Say the words,
Paul."

Laughing, he skimmed his hands over Kian's sleek, hard

muscles. "I'm burning up." He lifted his legs and squeezed the
incubus with his thighs. "Is that what you want to hear?"

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"Mmm." Kian pushed himself downward, lapping up the

beads of sweat beginning to pool between the muscles of
Paul's chest, his stomach. "More."

Paul's feet dropped to the floor as he arched his back. "I

can't tell you things." He sucked in a breath when a playful
tongue darted into his navel. "I can barely think."

Kian rubbed their bodies together, creating a friction that

sent raw need sizzling along his nerves. The incubus slid
higher, pushed himself up onto his hands. He held still,
waiting.

Those heated eyes drew forth the only words he had left.

"I love you."

His mouth curved as he lowered his body. "Exquisite." He

rocked his hips against Paul's, bit kisses over the length of his
shoulder. "Truly exquisite."

Fevered and needing more, Paul rolled him over, straddled

the incubus as he kissed and licked.

Confusion flitted over Kian's face.
He paused. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Kian smoothed back Paul's hair. "You usually

require me to be the assertive one."

"Oh," he said softly. Slowing down, he kneaded the

muscles in Kian's chest. "You have a thousand years on me,
so I thought..." His sentence trailed as he rubbed his palms
over Kian's nipples. The flat discs hardened, scraping against
his skin.

Kian moaned as the bronze in his eyes melted and

shimmered wildly.

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265

A smile touched Paul's lips as he skimmed his hands

downward, spanning his ribcage. He curled his fingers, glided
his knuckles down Kian's waist before using the pads of his
fingers to trace his abdominal muscles. Electric pleasure
rippled up Paul's hands, his arms, into his body.

He fought the urge to fall forward, choosing instead to

move farther down. His hands slid to caress the sensitive skin
just below Kian's stomach, then lower, just enough to let his
fingers dip into the copper hair curling around the base of his
cock.

Soon, Kian's harsh breathing was the loudest sound on the

dreamscape.

Deliberately avoiding the thick column of flesh begging for

attention, Paul brushed his hands down Kian's legs and over
the hot skin of his inner thighs.

Kian made a soft, mewling sound.
Paul glanced up, smiled.
Lifting an eyebrow, Kian used his legs to grab him around

the waist and toss him forward. Paul landed hard on top of his
body, and the incubus leaned up, recapturing his mouth and
stealing his breath away.

The muscles underneath him swelled, and Paul jerked his

head back, surprised.

"Shh," soothed Kian, stroking his back. "You fill me."
Paul stared down at him, at his broad shoulders and thick

muscles. "I don't feel tired anymore."

"Your energies have thawed—they flow freely once again."

Strong hands slipped over the curve of his ass. "So potent ...

Paul's Dream

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266

limitless. You most likely have the power to awaken now, if
you want."

Shaking his head, Paul leaned forward, sucked gently on

his lower lip. "I want you inside of me."

A deft finger searched out his pucker. Teasing, caressing,

making him writhe. "As you wish." Kian pulled him higher,
and something cool and slick spilled over his ass.

Paul jumped. "Wh-What's that?"
"Lubricant," answered Kian, working it into his hole. "For a

dream walker, it is necessary even in dreams because your
physical body can sustain damage when you are here."

He forced himself to relax, to enjoy the feel of gentle

fingers massaging him. "Where did you get it?"

"The very air is afire with our passion. Can you not feel it?"

Kian tilted his hips, guided the head of his cock to Paul's
opening. "It allows me the use of incubi magic to manipulate
elements in your dream."

Paul chuckled. Low. Husky. "Convenient." His laughter was

cut short when Kian's shaft eased into him. Gripping the
incubus tight, he pushed himself backward, taking it deeper.
Wildfire tore through him, and he paused, gasping softly as
his eyes drifted closed.

Rich, sexy purrs filled the dreamscape. Paul's eyes

fluttered open, met that molten gaze. Slowly, he pushed
farther down the thick pole, gasping again when he found
himself flush against Kian's pelvis.

The incubus lowered his hips to the floor, drawing his shaft

out of him. The emptiness ached, and when those hips lifted
again, Paul rushed to accept him.

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267

"So eager," teased Kian, even as he quickened his thrusts.

Keeping one hand on Paul's ass, he slipped the other one to
the front of their bodies, closed his fingers around the
bobbing dick between them.

"Kian."
"My sweet," came the murmured response. A skilled

thumb rubbed over his cockhead, sending a wave of searing
fire up his shaft and into his body. Paul shook as the incubus
thrust against him with growing ferocity, stoking the blaze
inside of him until it flared and roared.

Kian's hand caressed and squeezed; Kian's cock drove into

him again and again.

Paul screamed with the ecstasy of it.
His orgasm came in explosion upon explosion of pleasure.

They flooded his body, threatened to blow him apart. He
heard Kian call his name, and the fire intensified in hot, carnal
bursts. Flames engulfed him, swirled around him, burned so
intense that he was blinded by them.

Rapture. So much rapture...
He collapsed, and powerful arms locked around him. The

incubus kissed his mouth, nuzzled his cheek, stroked his hair
... all the while murmuring in that soothing, lyrical mix of
languages.

Paul clung to him, as the explosions eased, as the tremors

calmed. Somehow, his mouth found Kian's, and he lost
himself in a long, slow kiss.

Kian purred, sending vibrations down his throat, his chest,

into his heart.

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Moaning softly, Paul lifted his head and opened his eyes.

The dreamscape had changed—where before it had been
pitch black, it was now a pure, soft white. "What..." He
swallowed, his throat sore from screaming. "What happened?"

Kian drew him down, looped a leg around him to keep him

in place. "Our fire has brought light into the darkness." He
dipped his head and breathed warm air over his throat.

The pain faded away. Relaxing against his lover, Paul

looked into the light. "Why is it so empty here?"

"You've had no experience with creating your own

dreamscape."

He'd never had a dream of his own before. It was so ...

peaceful. "Do we have to wake up now?"

"No," Kian said gently, stroking his bare skin. "We can stay

a while longer."

His brow furrowed. "Asher might be worried about us."
The incubus chuckled. "Asher is an empath. I'm sure he

has an idea of what has transpired."

Paul felt his skin go red. "Asher can feel..."
"Do not fret over that. Bask in your afterglow."
He smiled, lifted his head as much as Kian would allow.

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine a hill of soft grass,
welcoming trees, leaves blowing in the wind. When he opened
them to view his handiwork, he couldn't help laughing. Green
below, blue above, bars of brown in between. The lines were
careful, simple, with no intricate detail whatsoever. "It looks
like a paint-by-numbers watercolor."

Kian glanced around before grinning up at him. "Such

bright colors. They bring out the sapphire in your eyes."

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His emotions softened, and the colors around them

followed suit. "You really don't see any flaws in me, do you?"

"You are perfect."
Paul settled against him, pillowed his head on Kian's chest.

"Kian?"

"Yes, my sweet?"
"Tell me things."
Their laughter filled the dreamscape and each other. Paul

pressed a soft kiss to Kian's skin, knowing that—whatever
happened—neither of them would ever be alone.

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

270

Epilogue

Sitting on the floor between Kian's legs, Paul tilted his

head back to accept an offering of dewberries. Kian smiled
down at him from the couch, dropped a light kiss on his
forehead. As fire lazed through him, Paul reached up, drew
the incubus close for a more thorough taste.

"Oh, come on! That center is a joke! Take him out, coach!"
Paul and Kian glanced to the left in time to see Asher

throw a handful of popcorn at the TV screen.

Zakai, who sat at the far end of the couch, shook his head

as he watched the other man curse on the floor. "Why are
you yelling at the television when you know they cannot hear
you?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Asher, his gaze locked on

the screen. "It's a human thing."

"So all humans are idiots?" asked Zakai, tilting his head to

the side.

The bowl in front of Asher floated into the air, settled over

the blond incubus's head, and turned itself over, dumping
popcorn all over him.

Zakai's eyes shimmered with anger as he launched into a

rant about uncouth wizards while Asher snickered into his fist.

Paul sighed and looked up at Kian. "They're at it again."
"Indeed." Kian absently ran his fingers through Paul's hair.

"They seem incapable of getting along. From now on, we
should only invite one into our home at a time."

He broke into a smile.

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271

Kian traced his lips with his forefinger. "What is it?"
"I just like the sound of that. 'Our home.' It feels right."
Kian's legs hugged him. "Perhaps we should send our

friends to their homes?"

It was tempting, but Paul had barely seen Asher over the

last month. "No, not just yet."

The incubus lowered his head, spoke into his ear. "You

torture me, my sweet."

Chuckling, Paul leaned back, nestled himself closer. He

glanced at Asher and Zakai, still working hard at aggravating
each other. They hadn't resorted to physical violence, yet, so
maybe they were improving.

Or maybe Zakai had just learned it was impossible to take

Asher down.

Once, Paul had asked his friend what had become of

Richard Davis. Asher only smiled, told him that he'd taken
care of it, and left it at that. Although Paul didn't press for
more information, it made him wonder about the kinds of
things Asher was forced to do as Guardian of New York. He
intended to find out, just as he intended to puzzle out
Stephen Riker. Paul was part of a magical world now, and he
needed to understand it.

But all that would have to wait. At the moment he had his

hands full: trying to make partner while learning the finer
points of being a dream walker.

"Paul."
His attention drifted back to Kian. "Hmm?"
He glided his knuckles over Paul's cheek. "Tell me things."

Paul's Dream

by Rowan McBride

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A smile ghosted on his lips. He'd been waiting to hear

those words all day. "You offered me a gift—immortality."

Kian stopped short, straightened. "You have plenty of time

to decide."

"I've already decided."
He stilled. "Oh?"
Paul turned, rested his hands on the thighs hugging him. "I

want to be with you. That's my dream."

Hot, sweet fire roared through his body as Kian dragged

him into a tight embrace. "Then we shall dream it together."

A month ago, Paul had gotten a dream of his very own.

Now, he would share it with the man he loved, just as Kian
shared his fire.

Forever.

The End

About the Author:
Visit RowanMcBride.com

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