Chapter 15

Rain. Huge splattering drops that did nothing to wipe away the fog. He’d left the warm bed of sweet Alice why? Duty. The headlamps on the big Land Rover did little to pierce the roiling mist. The engine growled as he down-shifted the gearbox to take a climbing turn out of the valley. Barely illuminated gaunt figures lined the road. Trees. Not giants. He chuckled at his own imagination. ’Twas a spooky night and he wouldn’t be at all surprised to find the Wild Hunt riding the road with him.

He thought of the drowsy woman he’d left in a warm bed. A few pints at the pub could make any woman warm and willin’ but Alice was a beauty. He’d bedded her time and again when he was in camp. She worked the bar at his favorite pub in Kildare and always greeted him with a hug and a kiss. He’d met his mates and they’d watched the football game on the telly hanging above the bar and he’d walked Alice home after.

But duty called, so he’d left her snug asleep, with tousled hair and well-kissed lips, to make the drive to Curragh Camp and a day of training the new recruits. ’Twouldn’t do for the OIC t’be late. He’d be glad when Kieran returned to duty and took his job back. He had no desire to be Officer in Charge a day longer than necessary.

The road leveled out but fog collected in patches. The air’d be clear and a moment later, the sturdy SUV would plunge into a swirling world of white. Vertigo teased his senses despite his best efforts and he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“Silly bugger.” He flexed his fingers and reached for the radio. He punched a few buttons searching for a station and he caught the strains of U2’s newest single. He glanced up just in time to see a large dog standing in the center of the road. Reflexes took over. He jerked the wheel even as his feet pumped brake and clutch as he down-shifted. The rear of the Rover skidded on the wet pavement, hit gravel, and dipped into the drainage ditch beside the road. Off-balance, the vehicle’s front end flipped up. The damned thing was going to roll. All he could do was brace. His stomach turned as metal scraped against the roadway. Sparks shot across his vision. And then the force of the accident tossed the Rover end over end. Someone screamed. That couldn’t possibly be his voice, but the sound bruised his ears. Even though the screams were in his head. His world turned black.

Searing, crushing pain.

Something warm dripped into his eyes. Something smelling of salt and copper. Blood. His.

A voice. One that sounded like the sea colliding with the boulders strewing the shore at the Giant’s Causeway.

Dark. Pain. Blood. His world narrowed to those. Fight. He had to fight.

For a long, terrifying moment, Rory couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Paralyzed but for the pounding thud of his heart and the surge of bile clawing its way up from his gut. Breathe. He ordered his lungs to expand. Air filled them and then he exhaled slowly. His fingers tingled and then one foot jerked. Feeling returned. Covered in sweat, he willed his body to function.

Delaney had turned away from him, sleeping on her side, the peaceful sounds of her breathing and her warmth an anchor. When he felt capable of moving, he slipped out of bed, hesitant to disturb her. He wanted to gather her in his arms, to hold her against his fevered skin and let her touch and voice soothe him. But how would he explain the nightmare? If that’s what it was. So real. Like he’d been in that vehicle. He brushed his fingers across his face expecting to see them covered in blood. They weren’t.

Snagging a pair of gym shorts, he crept to the French doors opening to the balcony off his bedroom. He glanced over his shoulder as Delaney stirred. She’d simply rolled over and nestled into the warm spot he’d left behind. His hand shook as he reached for the door handle. Breathe. Why did he have to keep reminding himself to do that? He sucked in a deep lungful of air. Exhaled. Drank in another. His thudding heart eased, slowed, and his fingers tingled again with the last vestiges of adrenaline in his system. He stretched out his right hand. Rock steady now. Rory grasped the handle and flipped it down. With a soft click and a little creak, the door opened.

He stepped outside, and shivered as the night wind kissed his heated skin, drying the sweat enough to leave him chilled. He stared at the moon as it inched toward the western horizon, watching as clouds skittered across its full face.

“What the hell.” This was no question to the universe. This was a demand, albeit a whispered one. Rory rubbed one hand across his head, his short hair barely ruffled by the action.

He jumped when two arms slipped around his waist. Delaney. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For waking you.”

“Nightmare?” She laid her cheek against his back and tightened her arms in a gentle hug.

“No. Yes. I’m not sure what it was.” He rubbed his palms along her arms and hands where they clasped him, finding solace in the motion. She’d found his tux shirt and put it on, but hadn’t buttoned it.

“About the shooting?”

“No.” He felt her stiffen slightly. “No, Doc. I don’t dream about that. If I want to replay that day, all I have to do is close my eyes. I only dwell on it for training purposes. I know what I did. I know what happened. I’m at peace with it.”

“Then what?”

Rory tried, but the shudder escaped before he could clamp down on his muscles. Delaney felt it, too, so there was no hiding his reaction. “What is it called when you know you are dreaming but you feel like you’re part of the action, that you’re there, and you can’t stop the dream, can’t change what’s happening?”

“Lucid dreaming?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Will you tell me?”

“There’s not much to tell, Doc.”

“Something upset you.”

Breathe. He inhaled again. Why was it so hard to remember to do that? And why was he so cold now? Delaney’s warmth pressed against his back seemed like the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Just a dream, Doc. That’s all.”

“Rory.”

Breathe. He opened his mouth to inhale but words rushed out, tumbling over each other. He told her about the dream—nightmare—whatever the hell it was. His voice didn’t sound like his, not to his ears. It carried a lilt that was foreign, a turn of phrase that wasn’t his. And in the dream, he’d been someone else. But not. He’d been himself as well. He finished and the silence stifled him. Breathe.

Delaney said nothing, but she continued to hug him. His muscles ached from holding so stiff, but his lungs seemed to be working a little easier. The sky to the east lightened. Dawn wouldn’t be far away now. He’d often wondered why Man was so afraid of the dark. Darkness had always been an ally. He no longer questioned. He knew the answer. Things lurked in the dark—thoughts, emotions, fears. But that was good, his knowing this. Now he could face them. Conquer them. And survive.

Loosening her arms with a careful tug, Rory turned to face her. He cupped her face in his hands and dipped his head to taste her lips. “Thanks.” He whispered the word but she heard him.

Delaney smiled, moonlight teasing her features and creating lights in her eyes that made her look mysterious and otherworldly. “I don’t think I can get back to sleep…” Her expression left no doubts as to her intentions.

He swept her up into his arms in a princess carry and kissed the tip of her nose. “Good, because I’m definitely a morning kind of guy.”

She giggled, dropped an arm, and brushed her fingertips across his growing erection. He stumbled and she squealed. With both arms wrapped around his neck she chided him with a breathless kiss. “You did that on purpose.”

Rory dropped her on the bed and pounced, burrowing his hips between her thighs. He flicked the plackets of the shirt she wore open and inhaled deeply. “So beautiful, Doc. I could look at you for hours.”

She arched her hips and rubbed slowly against his hard shaft. “I am not a patient woman, Rory MacDermot. You should remember that.”

He chuckled, the sound almost a growl rumbling low in his chest. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll remember that, ma’am. Anything else I should know?”

Her expression turned wicked as she reached for him. “Shut up, Rory, and make love to me.”