“Knees,” he repeated as if trapped in a spell. He shook his head and brightened. “Aye, on yer knees.”
As she rolled to her knees, she whipped her sweater off over her head, then went to all fours. “Hurry, Gryffe—I need you more than I ever have before. Take me!”
And then he was inside her, filling her to perfection. She groaned and rocked back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. “This time is different—I need—I need—” She needed blessed oblivion.
He pounded faster, rutting into her with the same urgency that was setting her ablaze. Grabbing hold of her hips, he pulled her back harder, growling with every delicious slap of their flesh.
Excruciating bliss exploded through her with wave after wave of wondrous sensation. She may have screamed, and he may have roared, she really didn’t know, and definitely didn’t care. Gryffe had given her what she had needed so badly—even better than usual, which was impossible to imagine. As the tsunami of pleasure ebbed, she swayed forward and collapsed, grunting as he slumped across her.
“Feckin’ hell. Are ye all right, love? I nay meant to crush ye.” He rolled to one side, taking her with him, and spooning his body around hers.
“I have never been more all right in my life,” she said, barely finding the energy to speak. She closed her eyes and hugged his arms around her. “I love you. Really and truly, I do”
He tightened his embrace. “I love ye as well, my precious ember. Sleep for a while in my arms now, aye? We’ll be needing our strength for tonight.”
“Tonight,” she repeated, struggling to remember what tonight was…and then it came to her and made her sad. Maybe the Dreaming was a mistake. Maybe it was another wrong choice. She squinted her eyes shut even tighter and breathed Gryffe in. His familiar, comforting scent spiked with the essence of their loving calmed her, lulled her back to where she needed to be. She would hold tight to Gryffe while in the Dreaming, she silently vowed to herself. Gryffe would make everything all right.
Chapter 11
Gryffe longed to sweep his precious Emily up into his arms, carry her to their bedchamber, and never let her out again until she got this foolish notion of visiting the Dreaming out of her head. But he couldn’t. To do so would hurt her, and that, he would never purposely do. As he had told her before their frantic lovemaking in the library, he knew there was a part of her heart she would never give him. He sensed it like something ominous lurking in the shadows, and he hated it. But he would not prevent her from trying to make peace with that part of herself that longed for her home. He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles popped. She might long for her other life, but never would he let her leave him. Never. He would find a way to follow her to the ends of the earth—no matter what earth they found themselves on.
He let his narrow-eyed gaze drift across Emily, Ferris, Nicnevin, and that damn Fae panther, Grimalkin. They had gathered in the center of the broad battlement atop the north tower of MacStrath fortress. Not only was it the highest point of the castle, but the one most open to the sky and the moon—a great help when it came to successfully crossing the breach into the Dreaming.
Emily’s nervous fidgeting betrayed her fears that had almost reached the brink of terror. He saw it in her eyes and ached to take advantage of it to dissuade her from continuing this dangerous endeavor. But that would not be fair to her. Not after he had agreed they would go.
Ferris looked ill at ease, Nicnevin was pleasant and calm enough to be even more infuriating than usual, and the useless beast that refused to leave Emily’s side occasionally gave a bored yawn while looking around and slowly flipping the tip of its long black tail.
When Emily slipped her hand into Gryffe’s, he bowed his head and fought the urge to roar that they would not go and for everyone to leave the battlements.
“What do we do now?” she asked with the quiet innocence of a child.
Before Gryffe could explain, Nicnevin clapped her hands, shattering the midnight sky with lightning. “We cross!”
Fetid air slid across his flesh, changing to the cloying wetness of cold mud as the Dreaming’s border swallowed him. Emily’s hand slipped free of his grasp, throwing him into a panic. He burst out of the disgusting barrier that kept the mystical place within its boundaries and turned to dive back in after her, but the wall went solid. Such was the way of the Dreaming. You might enter it at your own will, but you only leave when the Dreaming releases you. “Emily!”
Ferris emerged farther down the way, growling like his wolf and shaking like a wet dog casting off the rain. Nicnevin followed him, ever smiling.
Gryffe attempted to re-enter the barrier where they had stepped through, but again, the wall resealed, forbidding his exit. He spun about and bore down on his mother, grabbing her by the throat. “Where is she? What have ye done with her?”
Nicnevin’s eyes flared wide. The scent of her fear goaded him onward. He tightened his hold on her long, slender neck. “I will kill ye, if ye have harmed her. Ye know I can do it. Yer blood in my veins gives me that power.”
She wet her lips and flinched with a failed attempt at swallowing. Her delicate throat swelled and flexed within his grasp. “I did nothing but pull everyone into the Dreaming,” she said, her voice cracking with the effort. “Set Grimalkin to searching. She will find her.”
With the dark queen still in his grasp, Gryffe glanced around the formless clearing that held them. “Grimalkin is gone as well. Neither of them made it through with us.”
“I dinna ken, my son,” Nicnevin said, her quiet voice revealing she too feared the worst for Emily. “I swear I have no knowledge of what happened to either of them.” She tried to swallow again and flinched harder, her face reddening. “But know this, if Grimalkin is with her, she will be safe from anything the Dreaming might attempt.”
“Emily!” Gryffe bellowed into the void, making the pale gray mist surrounding them swirl into eddies that spiraled out as far as the eye could see. But only silence answered. He shook his mother again, not caring that she was growing ever weaker. “I have always known ye to be cruel and black-hearted—especially as far as I am concerned—but why would ye do this? Why, when ye have beat my ears raw with yer nagging about me taking a wife and siring an heir?”
“I swear on my eternal love for yer father that I had nothing to do with any of this.” The sadness in her eyes was almost convincing. “Why else would I suffer yer enraged hold when I could easily shapeshift and escape ye?”
There was that. He let his hand fall and turned away, bowing his head, frantic to solve this damnedable puzzle and find his beloved Emily. Her hand had slipped from his while they were within the barrier. Was it possible the Dreaming had rejected her even though she was a royal Fae’s mate and also possessed the ancestry of a divine Weaver? “Think ye she remained at the castle? Could she have been denied entry?”
“Ye were holding her hand, aye?” Nicnevin frowned at the now sealed barrier as if examining it for cracks.
“Aye. Her hand slipped from mine after the border swallowed me.”
“After and not before. Ye are certain?”
