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Kit

I t was cold. I fucking hated being cold. It was part of why I’d kept moving south after escaping my grandmother years ago.

I hadn’t ever really escaped her, though, had I? The mocking knowledge of it haunted me every time I let my brain slow down. I’d avoid sleep altogether if I could because every time I lay down and closed my eyes, it crept out to haunt me.

Whispers of things I’d forgotten, either intentionally or just in the blur of trauma and rage, rose. Their voices all blended together.

“Your fool mother went and developed a conscience. She wouldn’t kill a child. A child…because children are innocent.”

“The city was supposed to be mine.”

“He was supposed to be dead.”

Taunts from Jude that I’d brushed off as mere taunts, only…some part of me had known otherwise.

Rana cutting into Malcolm.

“The coward’s spawn is too stupid to die.”

Lemeraties injuring Jude and then bringing him to me so I could kill him.

“His blood is yours—ours. He cannot dishonor you without dishonoring me. I am your vengeance. I am your rage.”

It all tied back to Fanis.

Fanis. Madae.

Whoever she might be, she’d led the elusive aneira race and had been the center of almost every nightmare I’d had for years.

And now she had Doyle.

How was I supposed to save him?

Lying there in the small hotel room, with Damon sleeping in the bed next to mine, I tried to calm my racing mind. I needed sleep. But my thoughts were a mess and that question kept coming back up.

How can I save him ?

I was so in over my head.

I didn’t have what anybody could consider a…formal education, but I’m sharp enough. I know more about weapons than any ten people put together. I can hunt, track and hide better than 95% of the people out there—human or otherwise.

But I was out of my depths.

The ghost shimmered into view and I closed my eyes. Not tonight.

The Lemera.

Or Lemeraties, as I’d come to know her.

Damon slept on undisturbed in the bed next to mine. I ached with cold, loneliness, bitterness and frustration. All at once, I wanted him next to me and on the other side of the world. I needed to talk, but I didn’t want to talk to him.

And I definitely didn’t want to talk to Lemeraties.

Like always, it didn’t matter what I wanted.

She approached and caught my eyes.

I sat upright on the bed and faced her, saying nothing.

She reached out and touched my brow.

I tried to jerk back, expecting the contact, dreading it, and still, I wasn’t fast enough.

Before I could prepare myself, I was falling into a void where time, space and reality had no meaning.

“It took you long enough.”

With a glare, I shoved to my feet.

A moment ago, I’d been on a hard bed with a squeaky mattress in a bland hotel a few feet from Damon.

Now I stood on the empty expanse that was the training grounds of Aneris Hall.

Anywhere but here . She could have brought us anywhere and yet where were we?

“I hate this place,” I told her.

“I know. That is why I brought you here. You must learn to walk the dream paths and you will not always control the circumstances. It is better to train under hard circumstances as well as easy ones since we have so little time.” Her expression was unreadable.

Some part of me understood her logic and I knew she wasn’t trying to be unkind. But damn it, I wanted to hate her right then.

“You know, I’ve gone my entire life without these dream paths .” The whine in my voice annoyed me. Under my breath, I swore. “I’m sorry.”

“But have you?”

The question caught me off guard and I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I think some part of you has subconsciously used the dream paths for years, Kitasa.” Lemeraties came closer, walking in a circuitous route that became smaller with each pass. “When you were in the mountains—”

I stiffened.

She stopped in front of me.

“We are bonded,” she said gently. “I pull away when I can but some of your memories have become part of me, as mine have become part of you.”

Shame scorched me but when I tried to back away, her hands caught mine.

“You bear no shame in what was done to you, Kit.” Words gentle, eyes compassionate, Lemeraties squeezed my hands. “You know this. I know you know this. And I know the knowledge doesn’t make it easier to deal with the shame that still digs its claws into you, the same way the nightmares still find you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Then we will not discuss what happened to you there. But you heard Doyle reaching for you.”

“I…” Squinting at her, I tried to make sense of what she was saying. “What do you mean?”

“Think. I know you don’t want to dwell on that time, but you heard both your cousin and your aunt. Rana reached out to you as she walked the dream paths—but you reached out to Doyle .”

“That’s impossible.” I yanked my hands back and put distance between us. “I didn’t even know he was one of us until the following year. I didn’t know he was Rana’s son until a few months ago. How could I have reached out to him?”

“Blood calls to blood.” Lemeraties locked gazes with me. “And Kitasa… think . Remember the first time you saw him. I know it’s hard. But you recognized him then . Not just his face —but him .”

Revulsion curled inside. But I couldn’t push the memories aside—it wasn’t Doyle that caused the instinctive recoil, but the memories, and his resemblance to Rathias in those first moments—too thin and still growing, but the similiarity had been undeniable. Now, it was nonexistent. Doyle had finished his spike—the adolescent period for shapeshifter youth—putting on pounds of muscle and another six inches until he stood almost as tall as Damon. His features became more carved, making him almost pretty. The square jaw saved him—that, and the way he looked at you.

When I looked at Doyle, I didn’t even think of Rathias anymore.

It wasn’t often that I thought of those miserable days in the Everglades, either. Yes, we’d saved Doyle, and a few others, and we’d put a stop to the games.

Damon and I had found each other, but a lot of ugly shit had happened then, too. I didn’t consciously avoid thinking about all the bad things in my life but if I didn’t try to focus on the good parts, the awful ones would drown me. Sometimes, they threatened to anyway.

But now, I thought back—not to that hot, muggy day when we’d found the pit, and Doyle, but to those dreams.

Sleeping, trying to hide from reality.

And the voices I’d hear.

“Kit…wake up. You need to wake —”

The voice that had told me to eat—that I couldn’t fight if I was too weak from dehydration and malnourishment. Rana . Of course, Rana had reached out to me.

Hearing a cat’s roar…

“ Wake up. You need to wake up —”

Not a cat’s …a tiger’s . Deep, throaty.

Doyle …

Jerking my head up, I looked at Lemeraties. “I thought I’d imagined those voices.”

“No.” She inclined her head.

“But…” I shoved my hands through my hair. “I don’t understand. If I was doing this dream path shit, why did he keep yelling at me to wake up?”

“You were doing more than just sleeping —you hid in those dreams, Kitasa. If you could have willed yourself to die, you would have. I do not even know how you managed to connect with Doyle—perhaps that stubborn core of you was not yet willing to give up and you reached out on pure instinct. But as deep as you hid in your dreams, you were too deep for him to reach—and he did not know he was reaching out to you, either.”

“Now how do you know that ?” I demanded.

A smile came and went. “You are not the only one I’m trying to educate in the small hours, little sister. He thinks we speak only in dreams. I have to be…careful how much I tell him when I’m able to reach him, but he has no idea he has connected with you through the dream paths—he always brushed it off as wishful thinking and he rarely dwells on it. That is good because it means Madae will not think to protect against it. Now…are you ready?”

That was all the warning I had before she lunged.

It wasn’t just training on how to access the dream paths Lemeraties was giving me.

Under her, I was getting the advanced fighting skills my people had never bothered with.

The training happened in what was essentially a dreamscape, but there was some physical aspect. I woke drained and sore, although nowhere near as bad as if I’d spent hours going across the grounds with her. She drilled me with sword, knife, shield, spear, and bow.

I came awake silently and bit back a curse as my aching muscles protested, eyes gritty while my internal clock told me it was too early to rise.

I could have slept another hour, easy.

But something had disturbed me.

Turning my head, I looked across the narrow gap between the two beds and saw Damon.

He was still asleep.

I wasn’t used to waking first.

As I lay there, a harsh sound escaped him. The hand on the bed next to him clenched into a bloodless fist.

Normally, I’m the one having nightmares.

But our lives hadn’t been normal for weeks.

Even before Doyle had been kidnapped, things had been…off, but ever since we’d come face to face with the thing masquerading as my grandmother…hell, normal had taken a flying leap off the side of a mountain, the way I’d once considered.

Normal had smashed itself into tiny bits and I didn’t know if we’d ever see it again.

As crazy as things had been a month ago, with the tension between Damon and me, my discomfort with Lemeraties, all of it, I’d go back to that insanity if it would just bring Doyle back.

Another muffled sound came from Damon.

Swallowing the knot of despair threatening to choke me, I rolled onto my side. In the dim light, I studied him. The thin wedge of light shining in through the window was more than enough for me to catch a good look at his face.

His eyes were tightly closed, mouth clenched in a flat line. Under the fragile shield of his lids, I could see his eyes moving, signaling some intense dream.

I hesitated another moment and his lips peeled back from his teeth.

A harsh, low growl escaped his lips and rolled around the room.

I jerked, startled by the sound, but the feel of the leather-wrapped grip in my hand stopped me. Sighing, I looked at the sword I held. I’d either called it in my sleep or grabbed it. No telling which.

Damon growled again, louder this time and I rose, putting the blade down on the bed behind me.

Slowly, I crossed the few scant feet to Damon’s bed.

We’d been sleeping apart since we’d left East O. It felt like the distance of a hundred miles rather than a few feet. I didn’t know how to cross it, or if I even should.

A pained grunt tore from Damon’s throat and I went to reach out, shake him awake, then stopped. Warily, I looked down at his hands and he lifted one of them and slashed out at some unseen foe. Wicked claws emerged for a fraction of a second before retracting back into his skin.

I backed up a step.

“Damon,” I said, deliberately making my voice flat and cool.

It wasn’t easy.

My heart was breaking to pieces inside me.

But the brisk tone had the desired effect and his eyes flew open, swirls of glittering gold locked on the ceiling while he sucked in gulps of air.

” Fuck, ” he muttered.

The gold in his eyes faded, replaced by a more familiar green-gold. Even that faded and stormy gray looked up at me from the mattress. “I woke you.”

I edged closer once I saw the awareness in his expression. With a shrug, I sat on the edge of the bed, my arms wrapped around my middle. It was cold in the room. Normally, when I was with him, I never felt it. But I was sleeping alone in a bed instead of curled up next to him. Even with him lying two feet away, I felt horribly alone. I didn’t know how to bridge this chasm.

“I’ve woken you up with my nightmares more than a couple of times. You owe me, the way I see it.”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. For a moment, we just looked at each other and the air grew heavy with all the things left unsaid between us.

Without even thinking about it, I reached up to touch him. Before I made contact, he caught my wrist, eyes wary in the darkness.

His gaze was still haunted by whatever nightmare had plagued him, but as we stared at each other, a veil fell, cutting me off. The crack in my heart split wider and I pulled back.

His fingers slowly uncurled from my wrist.

I could only imagine what haunted his nightmares. The same images that kept me awake? Hell, I hoped not. But that was probably a fool’s hope.

But as I turned to go, his voice, still rough with sleep, came from the near darkness.

“Lay down with me, Kit.”

The ever-present ache in my chest throbbed. A nagging voice in the back of my head told me I shouldn’t.

I shoved it into a dark closet, slammed a chair under the doorknob and told it to get fucked. Sliding under the covers, I pressed close.

A breath hissed out of him as my skin came in contact with his.

“Fuck, you’re freezing, kitten.” Both of his arms came around me and he rolled onto his side, pulling me into the hard curve of his body. The warmth surrounded me and I shoved my face against his chest, the familiar scent of him wrapping around me along with the heat.

“Kit, I—”

Reaching up, I laid my fingers over his lips. He took my wrist, drew my hand down and twined our fingers.

He didn’t try to speak again and after a short while, I drifted off to sleep.

I don’t know if he followed.

Soon, I was too lost in dreams to be aware of anything.

We stood in a valley.

Tall grasses brushed my thighs and the tips of my fingers.

Doyle stood next to me.

The moment I saw him, I wanted to grab on and hug him. I didn’t let myself.

This felt like more than a dream. Carefully, I probed the connection, just as Lemeraties had taught me.

A dream path… But this wasn’t from me. I didn’t know this place.

Doyle had forged this connection, and it felt…fragile.

Off in the distance, there was a funeral pyre.

“Somebody died,” I said, trying for a light voice.

“Looks like,” my cousin replied. He blew out a breath. “Is this my dream or yours?”

“Yours, probably. I don’t recognize this place. Do you?”

“Maybe. But I’ve never been here.” He frowned. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“I’m not sure it matters.” With a shrug, I peered at the people gathered around the funeral pyre. They looked…odd. I couldn’t place why. “Any idea where we are?”

“I don’t even know where I am,” Doyle pointed out.

Smashing down my frustration, I looked back at the mourners gathered around the funeral pyre. We weren’t close, but I was able to isolate several individuals.

Several of them were…big. Bigger even than Damon. Bigger than Goliath.

Unnaturally big.

But they weren’t the ones that held my interest.

No, it was a man standing almost separate from the rest.

He’s deadly, I thought.

I knew it in my gut.

And there was something familiar about the way he held himself.

“She knows him,” Doyle said, as if I’d spoken out loud. “And her terrifies her. But she doesn’t want to let anybody know that.”

I started to ask who, then stopped. I already knew.

And if Doyle was talking about her , then…

Slowly, I turned, searching for the leanly muscled figure.

Instead, I saw a dark, slinking shadow, merging with the night as it prowled.

Once, he turned his head to look at us, although maybe he wasn’t looking at us—his gaze slid right pastand his stance…changed. Readied itself.

A voice echoed from somewhere nearby.

“You stay close, girl,” a stranger said—and I understood the words, even though I shouldn’t. The language was one I’d never heard in my life. “Do not be stupid and humiliate me.”

“Yes, Father.”

The reply sent a shiver down my spine. The woman speaking wasn’t at all familiar. I’d never heard that particular voice.

But in my gut, I knew.

I scanned the area, searching for them and coming up empty. Finally, I turned—and panic seized my heart. There, just inches away, stood a tall, powerfully built blond man. He was… beautiful . He was flanked on both sides by equally beautiful peers—the man on his left, even taller than he, a cruel smile on his sculpted face and eyes that shone like polished jewels, their color…indescribable.

On his right was a tall, young blonde woman—her eyes, at least, I could describe. They were the rich azure of the sky on a cloudless day when the sun shone brightly and the blue was so pure, looking at it hurt.

Their beauty would have been enough to stop me dead, but there was a coldness there that seized me by the heart and flooded me with knowledge.

These…people, or whatever they were, were wrong , broken on some deep level. Broken in a way they could never be fixed. And they liked it.

Predators. They are predators and they kill anybody who crosses them. Not for survival or food or out of necessity, but for fun. Because they enjoyed the slaughter.

“They don’t know we’re here,” Doyle said, moving to bump his shoulder against mine.

The three kept staring through us, their attention elsewhere.

Questions unfolded in my head, one after another after another, but I had no time to ask them as a sound shattered the night.

I couldn’t call it a roar. It was…deep. Booming. It rolled across the plain like thunder and kept going, on and on and on. I felt it every bit as much as I heard it and I wanted to cower on the ground and wrap my arms around my head.

“Damn,” Doyle breathed out, his teeth clenching in response.

“What is that?” I demanded.

“No cat alive makes that kind of sound.” His features relaxed and he shrugged restlessly, shaking off the tension as if it hadn’t even existed.

“Great, so we’re dealing with zombie cats.”

He snorted but didn’t look at me, eyes still on the darkness, searching for the creature responsible.

“Let us give our regards to the family,” one of the men before us said.

They walked through us, not reacting at all—but then, I hadn’t felt anything when they merged, then passed through us. It was like we weren’t even wisps of fog, much less thinking, living beings.

The man we’d noticed earlier left the gathered mourners and strode toward us. Looking at him was like a balm for the illness that was the first two.

“They don’t belong here,” a new voice said.

I jerked as Lemeraties moved to stand next to me.

Doyle scowled when he saw her. “Is this one of your tests?”

“No,” she said calmly. “This is not one of my memories, boy.”

He frowned and looked at me, then back at Lemeraties. “It’s not one of mine, either. I don’t know this place…it’s familiar, but I don’t know why.”

Suddenly, I did. Whipping my head around, I stared at the woman, watching as she and the males with her strode toward the mourners and the single, solitary male.

The pieces fell into place.

“It’s one of her memories.” I grabbed Doyle by the arms, my fingers digging in. He started to fade under my touch, his connection to the dream path faltering.

“Fuck…don’t let go!” I fought to keep my voice level. Fought…and failed. “Doyle, is she in your head?”

He gave me a lost look. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where I am, Kit. I told you. I…I think I’m beginning to lose who I am.”

“Hold on,” I told him, shaking him. “Hold on and stay you !”

The dream fell apart.