In The Dark Of Dreams Part 35

"You don't frighten me."

Perrin gave her a sharp look, as though that meant something to him, as though he couldn't quite believe her.

"I mean it," she said again.

He tore his gaze from her, staring at his hands. His knuckles bore healing cuts, split skin. "I frighten myself. I feel you more and more inside my head. I know I must be inside yours. I'm afraid of what you'll see."

It was like hearing herself talk. A terrible relief stole over her, but it also stole away her voice, and she didn't know how to tell him she understood, that he was safe with her-that she hoped she was just as safe with him. She hoped it so badly.

Jenny grabbed his hand. "We all have dark places. I won't look on purpose if you don't."

Perrin regarded her in silence, his expression far more grim than his eyes, which darkened from pale ice to sky blue, and held her still and breathless. He turned his hand beneath hers and wrapped his long, strong fingers warm around her.

"You're a good person," he said, gruff.

Jenny sat back, surprised at how important those words were to her, how deep they struck. "So are you."

Perrin shrugged, as though he didn't believe her. But thanks for trying, he seemed to say. Nice of you not to hurt my feelings.

"Big strong man," she whispered. "Big strong heart. And you don't even know it."

For him, it was just the loneliness and the hards.h.i.+p, and the sacrifices he'd had to make to survive. He didn't see the man who held her so gently, who protected her, who took care of small dogs (oh, the dog, she thought; and then, d.a.m.n), or all the infinitely small gestures, the kindnesses, that in such a short time had come to mean so much to her. It wasn't the bond, whatever that was. It wasn't the kra'a.

"All I know anymore is you and me," said Perrin. "Just you and me."

She nodded tightly, understanding him, suffering a fist in her heart so hard and thick with emotion, she could hardly breathe. All she could do was lean in, slow and warm, and press her lips on his mouth. Just a simple kiss, barely there; but she poured herself into it, desperate to ease the ache that had been burning inside her since that day on the beach, all those years before.

Perrin muttered something she didn't understand, but his hands were suddenly around her, his kiss deepening as she sensed something impossibly grim and hungry pa.s.s through him, followed by desperate, breathless, need. Jenny pushed close, sharing that need, aching for him with a wildness that she had never felt for anyone. It scared her.

Perrin broke away from her, shuddering, his face pressed to hers. "Your hair. Take it down."

Her hands shook badly, but Jenny undid her braid. Her hair was tangled, crusty with salt and debris, but he sighed as it all came loose in a wild mess around her face. Perrin stroked it, fingers trembling. All his confidence seeming to melt away.

"I've never . . . done this before," he said, voice rough, raw. "Not with a human, and not . . . not with my own kind. I was supposed to. I was . . . given . . . females to impregnate. I always turned them away."

"I . . ." Jenny stopped. "Really?"

Perrin grimaced. "I didn't want them. I couldn't want them."

"Do you want me?"

He exhaled sharply. "I've wanted you since the first time I saw you. You were the only one I ever wanted. That was the problem."

Jenny didn't know what to say. All she could do was stare. Perrin rubbed his face. "I shouldn't have told you that."

"Well," she began.

"And I'm not . . . I know how it works," he interrupted. "I used to be a bouncer in a strip club."

"Strip club."

"And then there was this brothel-"

"Brothel-"

"I was there to make sure the girls didn't get hurt. They used to tease me by having s.e.x in front of-"

"Okay," Jenny said. "I get the picture."

Perrin swallowed hard. Giant man. Merman. Looking at her like some high-school boy, awkward and uneasy. "This bothers you."

"No." Jenny shook her head, fighting the inappropriate urge to laugh. "Definitely not. I promise . . . I promise to be gentle with you."

And then she did laugh.

Perrin stared. "You think this is funny?"

She nodded, mouth clamped. Shoulders shaking. Wanting him even more. More than she had imagined ever wanting anyone. She grabbed his hands and put them on her aching b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and while he knelt there, frozen, she pushed his swim trunks off his hips.

He was already hard. And large. Jenny touched him, and Perrin hissed, flinching. Not away from her, but deeper into her hands.

"Jenny," he said, low and rough.

His voice dragged a hook of pleasure straight between her legs, and she pulled his head down for a deep, hard kiss. He melted against her, and she did the same, both of them clinging to each other in terrible desperation. If she let go of him, she would die. Her heart would die.

Down, down on the floor. Getting naked, fast. Jenny was rough, and he was gentle, his large hands skimming her b.r.e.a.s.t.s until she gripped his wrists and held him tight against her, arching into his touch with ragged gasps. Straddling him, leaning down to lick and kiss, and nip the hard lines of his body. She listened to his hoa.r.s.e groans as she traveled from his throat to his erection, taking him in her mouth with a long, sucking stroke of her tongue. He trembled wildly, hands balling into fists.

"Inside you," he gasped. "Please."

Jenny didn't need to be asked twice. She crawled up his body, pus.h.i.+ng him against her, and slid down on top of him with a slow thrust of her hips-crying out as he stretched and filled her with delicious, delirious, pleasure.

No condom. She didn't want there to be one. Reckless, stupid-but she was clean, and wanted all of him. All of him, no matter the consequences.

He grabbed her hips, thrusting upward. Jenny cried out again, planting her hands on his chest, grinding against him as he pushed into her, deep and hard. Slow at first, then fast, relentless, both of them riding each other in mindless primal pleasure.

She felt his pleasure, on the other side of the wall in her mind, and let the barrier fall.

It was almost too much. Perrin gasped, and so did she, both of them drowning in each other. Slammed with mindless joy and heartache, and a need that buried her soul, bound her soul, locked her soul against his with a click that she felt in her bones.

Her o.r.g.a.s.m hit a moment later-violent, throbbing, rolling through her in a continuous pulse that left her breath cracking in her throat. Perrin came at the same time, rolling Jenny over on her back, thrusting so hard against her she climaxed again, hitching her legs high until her ankles crossed at the small of his back.

He shuddered into stillness, both of them gasping, sticky with sweat. The wall was up again inside her mind, but it wasn't strong enough to stop the glow of warmth that flowed between them-a floating light that fell over her like . . . like . . .

Magic, she thought.

Perrin pushed her hair from her face, peering into her eyes. Full of shadows, but there was a tenderness in his gaze, a dark hunger, that might as well have been a bullet, straight into her heart. She could not guess what was in her eyes, but she knew how she felt: dazzled, aching with the certainty she had come home.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, brus.h.i.+ng his fingers over her lips. "Did I hurt you? I lost control in the end. If I was too rough-"

Jenny took one of his fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue hard around it. Perrin's breath hitched, and deep inside her, where he still remained, she felt a twitch.

"You were perfect," she murmured raggedly, arching against him. "Don't ever let me go."

Perrin stared, his gaze growing even darker, and kissed her with a sweetness that stole her breath away. He began rocking, reaching down between them. She guided his hand to the right spot, and he smiled against her mouth.

Slow. Easy. Gentle. Jenny lost herself to him again, letting Perrin explore her body, speaking only to tell him yes, or there, or please, don't stop-and he did not stop, and he made her feel safe, with every touch, every kiss and caress. The parasite pulsed in the base of her neck, like a heartbeat. No pain. It felt . . . natural. As natural as being with him.

But something else rose inside her, too. The old hidden place inside her heart-shut away and crusty with pain.

No, she thought. No, please. I don't want to think about it now.

But her heart, bathed in peace and safety, was already unfolding the old hard sorrow. Or maybe that was the kra'a. She didn't know or care. She just wanted it to stop.

It didn't, though. Tears leaked from her eyes. Perrin stilled. "What is it?"

Jenny shook her head, fighting herself. But she couldn't hide from that sting-or the memories. She clung to him, holding on with all her strength as a terrible sob wracked her entire body.

"I did hurt you," he whispered.

Jenny shuddered. "No."

Perrin forced her to look at him. "Tell me."

She tried to stop crying, but the tears rolled down even harder. She buried her face in his neck, shaking. Not now. She didn't know why, now, she had to ruin this. But the pain wouldn't go away. Her belly ached, empty and cold.

"Jenny," he said raggedly.

"They killed my baby," she said brokenly, and it was the first time she'd said those words out loud, ever. Felt like ripping open a wound and letting it bleed.

She choked, and Perrin's hands froze against her back. "The Consortium killed my baby."

Chapter Eighteen.

They killed my baby.

Perrin had not let himself think about whether Jenny was married, or single. He hadn't cared, to be honest. She was giving herself to him, he was giving himself to her-and that was all that mattered. Anyone else could go to h.e.l.l and stay there.

But that she had been a mother . . . that was something he had not imagined. And now that he could, now that he could see her with a baby in her arms . . .

They killed my baby.

Rage trickled into his heart. A simmering, transcendent fury that he had never experienced. Quiet, raw. Hungry for blood.

"Jenny," he said, and his voice sounded strange to him, distant and deep, and barely there.

"She had two months left to go," Jenny whispered against his throat. "She was an accident, but a good one. The father was an old friend from school, and it was just . . . it happened. I used protection, I didn't mean for it . . . but there she was. After I got over the shock, I was so happy."

"Jenny," he said again, holding her tighter. "Jenny."

She burrowed deeper into his body. "I was home. Family reunion. I knew something was wrong early on-I'd known since I was twelve-but no one would listen. And then, that day, they made their move. Men came with guns, and the fight . . . there was so much blood. I had to kill one of my cousins. I shot her in the head. I don't even remember doing it. Just that I picked up the gun and pulled the trigger, and she was dead. And when I did that, the pain started, then someone hit me-hit me so hard in the stomach-and my water broke."

Perrin trembled. He tried to calm himself into stillness, but hearing those words burned through him, and the fury curled hotter, brighter, more terrible. "You had the baby."

"A friend of the family saved me. A shape-s.h.i.+fter named Serena. She got me away to a place where I could hide. She tried to help, but she . . . it was too soon, and there was no hospital. No way to get help. Everyone was just trying to survive." Jenny's voice broke, and so did Perrin's heart. "She was so tiny."

He rocked her closer, holding her as tightly as he dared. Wis.h.i.+ng desperately, furiously, that he could squeeze the pain from her. To lose a child, like that-helpless to stop it, surrounded by violence-and if that had been his child- Perrin didn't let himself finish that thought. He knew what they'd done. He knew what could already be growing between them. Fool that he was, given the circ.u.mstances-but no one had ever accused him of being careful, or even remotely intelligent. All he had known beforehand-and during-and now-was that he would protect her. He would give his life for her. He would live for her, so that she would live.

Because they were bound now. They had always been bound-dream bound-but now it was different, and he'd felt something new humming inside him with that first slick thrust into her body.

"When did this happen?" he asked her, because he didn't know what to say, how to express any of the feelings burning through him.

"Six years ago," she said quietly. "More or less."

"We stopped sharing dreams when I was exiled," he said. "I think . . . I think I would have known you were hurt if we'd still been with each other in our sleep."

Known, and fought to find her. Fought with all his strength. He would have tried at the beginning of his exile if he'd had a clue where she was.

Jenny tangled her fingers in his hair. "Not having you in my dreams . . . it made me wonder if I'd finally grown up. If it was my mind's way of telling me to . . . move on. So I tried. It wasn't easy to let go of that obsession with your memory. But it was that or never have a life."

It hurt a little, hearing her say those words. But Perrin understood. He had never expected to find her, either. And that was knowing, even, that the dreams were real.

"You never received justice," he said.

"Never," she told him quietly. "And I never went home. I got on my boat and just . . . sailed away. Looking for mysteries, again. Taking jobs writing articles for science magazines. Just . . . doing anything I could not to remember. The sea felt safe. The sea always felt safe."

"The sea is anything but," Perrin replied, more harshly than he intended. "If I could change things-"

"I know," she said. "I miss her, and I didn't even know her."

"What was her name?"

"I didn't have one yet. I liked Harriett, for some reason. Everyone told me that was awful. And there was Lucy, and Chloe, and Bridget. I wanted to get it just right, but nothing ever stuck. So on the gravestone, all I had inscribed was: MY BABY. No date. Nothing else. I didn't know what to say. It hurt too much."

Perrin buried his lips against her hair. "You would have been a good mother."

"I would have been a mess," she muttered. "But I would have loved her."

You did love her, he wanted to say, but silence seemed safer. Nothing he said could make this better. He understood now why she hadn't wanted to talk about what the Consortium had done, and he was glad-desperately so-that he hadn't pushed.

Jenny tried to pull away. Perrin held her close.