Tainted: Book Three - Enslaved

36. Can't Breathe Without You

Gemma

"It had to be a bikini."

My lips curled up at that familiar midnight-velvet voice. I loved when I dreamed of my boy.

"It is the beach, sweetheart," I murmured.

"I've never been to the beach before. It's beautiful, but it doesn't compare to you, angel."

Sliding my sunglasses down my nose, I looked at Kerry where he lay on his side next to me in the sand. His head was propped up on one arm, and he wore a tight t-shirt and red trunks. I recognized it as the same outfit he'd worn the first time we'd gone swimming in the school pool.

I pouted for half a second. He was usually shirtless in my dreams.

"If that shirt gets any tighter, the seams are going to burst," I purred. "Why don't you take it off so I can appreciate all those drool-worthy muscles in the flesh?"

"Gemma. I'm really here. Lilas is weaving our dreams together."

"What?" A bucket of cold water couldn't have shocked me more.

The corners of his eyes crinkled up as he grinned.

"Lilas found you in dreamland and brought me here. I thought I should tell you before you said anything embarrassing. Anything else embarrassing."

My face lit on fire, which made him laugh. I didn't understand the how of it, but I didn't care. He was there and that's all that mattered.

I reached for him, and he wrapped me up against his chest.

"For real?" I whispered. "You're more than Dream Kerry?"

"Yep. Well, at least a psychic hologram of me, according to Amanda Greenaway."

"Amanda's with you, too?"

"I ... am not keeping it together too well, and she came up with this idea to help." He touched his nose to mine. "Are you still with the djinni? Gemma, angel, baby, I need to know: Are you okay? Has he— Has he—"

I knew what he was asking and hurried to put him out of his misery.

"He hasn't touched me. He hasn't handed me over to his master. I'm fine. I'm comfortable and uninjured. He even bought me some yarn and crochet hooks to keep me busy, but that's probably because he wanted to shut me up for a bit. He says I talk too much."

"Are you telling the truth?" His arms tightened around me.

"Sweetheart, this setting is proof enough. If I were being tortured and molested, would I be able to dream of sunbathing on the beach? I swear to you, the only thing hurting me is being separated from you."

I tangled my fingers in his hair. It was much longer and messier than usual. Leaning back a little, I studied him. Bloodshot eyes, gaunt cheeks under rough whiskers, lines of exhaustion carved into his skin...

He isn't taking care of himself at all.

"You know I'm looking for you, right?" he asked.

"Of course I do, but I'm worried about you. Are you being careful?"
"No, I'm not being careful!" he growled. "I've been to Hell, fought giants, blown hundreds of thousands of dollars, cashed in favors, called in markers—"

I laid my fingers against his lips.

"I'm sorry I'm causing you so much trouble. I know you're agonizing about my safety, and I want you to stop. Darius has every reason to take good care of me. He's been very sweet, actually."

"He better take care of you. You can't know how I felt when I saw him 'port away with you at City of the Future." His eyelashes grew wet, and a tear slipped from the corner of his left eye.