Heart Journey Read Online Free Page B

and said a Word that made the room go dark. Shunuk settled near her feet on the bedsponge. We can take care of the kit, he repeated.
    Could she? She set her teeth. She’d have to.
     
     
    T he night deepened, darker, darker and she was sad and alone. She reached for him instinctively, and he was there, sharing her dream. “Lover,” she said, her voice breaking. She needed the contact now that she knew there’d be no more hugs or kisses or even conversation with her lost Family. “Lover.” She touched him “physically” and her hands felt the smoothness of a muscular back. She didn’t know who he was, couldn’t see him with blurred eyes in the dark . . . though she thought she heard city sounds.
    He was larger than she—taller, and she was a tall woman. Broader, but she was tough whipcord, every muscle honed, and he lean male strength.
    He rolled to the side and gathered her close, front to front, skin to skin—he was as naked as she, and aroused. She was hurting and needed him emotionally and the small link between them had widened and he had come to her in her dream . . . It would turn erotic, she knew that, welcomed that, but for now he held her. He kissed tears from her cheek.
    Ssshhh , he said mentally, and she felt the comfort of it, the tenderness that was more than sex, the HeartMate connection that had already formed between them.
    He stroked her back, over the curve of her butt, back up. Then his lips trailed from her cheek to her jawline and down her throat, where he licked and her sadness melted away with his gentle touch . . . that became more insistent. His hand went to her breast, cupped it, stroked her nipple, and she arched into him. Sweet desire flickered into greedy passion. She needed him.
    He’d given her tenderness, but now she wanted more, wanted like he did. His erection was strong and hard, nudging her stomach, and she shuddered at the sleek length of him, remembering the feel of him inside her during their previous dreams.
    She hooked a leg over him, opening her physical self, and felt his slow penetration that made her dampen even more, made her yearn to strive for release . . . and the joy of orgasm and simple forgetfulness. He rolled atop her and she locked her heels behind his back and moved with him.
    Passion throbbed through her, faster than his thrusts, flashing hot, faster than her pulse beating in her head. He was taking her away from herself, her life, and that was what she wanted. For now.
    HeartMate, she chanted it mentally, though she knew he didn’t hear, kept it a tasty secret in her mind, naming him what he was for her, cherishing the fact of him, the reality of him.
    He panted and his back dampened and she was with him for every step that wound hunger and yearning and pleasure tight until bright stars exploded in the night around her and she fell apart and was remade.
    Her HeartMate. The heavy knowledge that she had lost her Family had returned, but she also understood that she still lived. Life went on.
    Distantly, she thought she felt him wake, swear. Then the link between them snapped shut and he was gone and her bed was empty.

DRUIDA CITY
    M idmorning the next day, pounding came at Raz’s dressing room door. He jolted awake and rose from the sofa where he’d been sleeping after a very late night—and a disturbingly sexual dream that he didn’t want to think had involved his HeartMate. Not now, not so soon.
    Cursing accompanied the rapping. He glanced at the wall timer. Yes, he should be getting ready for the afternoon matinee.
    “Raz Cherry, you speak to me now! ” Lily, his leading woman, shouted with more knocks.
    He opened the door and Lily stormed in. “Dammit, why have you been messing with my stuff?”
    His character adored Lily in the play, and she was a fine actress, but Raz found her difficult off stage. She carried a negativity around her.
    “I haven’t touched your things,” he said.
    “It had to be you. You were the only one here in the