The thought made Adne’s skull ache.
It can’t be that. I can’t be that horrible.
Adne forced herself to turn around. While she’d been looking away, Connor had stripped off his jeans and donned a loose-fitting pair of pajama pants. Adne let her gaze roam over him slowly, taking in the lines of his body, reminding herself of how good it felt to hold him, to be close to him, to feel how much he wanted her whenever he took her in his arms.
“What’s that look about?” Connor asked, noticing Adne’s perusal.
“I love you.” Adne walked up to Connor and rose up on her toes to place a gentle kiss on his mouth.
Connor’s arms went around her back, holding her against him. “Lucky me.”
He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was soft and Adne could taste his sadness. She wanted to take it away.
Connor broke off their kiss and pulled back to look at Adne’s face. His eyes were searching, and Adne knew he was cautious about where to go from here. Guilt stung Adne’s heart. His hesitation was her fault. She’d been more and more reticent when it came to intimacy.
Determined to repair the damage she’d done, Adne ran her fingertips over Connor’s collarbone, then down his chest and stomach. When she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his pants, she murmured, “I think you should carry me to the bed now.”
“Is that what you think?” Connor gave her a teasing smile, but his voice had grown hoarse.
Adne nodded.
• • •
How had she never noticed the softness of these sheets?
Adne would have sworn the bed linens were simple cotton; tonight they felt like silk on her skin. But the slide of the sheets over her body was nothing compared to touch of her lover’s hands.
He placed his palm against her abdomen gently, but even so, Adne was aware of his immense strength. She felt an unfamiliar flutter deep within her.
“He is well,” her lover’s voice rumbled, low and rich with pleasure.
Though cocooned by happiness, Adne couldn’t help but feel something was wrong. Her lover’s voice, though familiar, wasn’t what she’d expected it to be.
Or was it?
She knew him. Knew his touch.
Did she?
“He?” Adne teased. “How can you possibly know?”
The twinge of unease came again. Her own voice sounded off as well. And the words—both hers and his—didn’t make sense. What were they speaking of? How could she not remember?
“My love.” Adne couldn’t see his face, but she could hear that he was smiling. “If I could share my vision with you, I would. But you can trust that I speak the truth. The child is male.”
The child? Adne’s head was swimming, but she answered in that voice that wasn’t her own.
“Are you pleased?”
“You never need ask such a question,” he replied. His fingers touched her lips. “Male or female, my blood flows in our child’s veins. That blood binds me to this world. It is our legacy.”
“Yes,” Adne replied. She didn’t understand. What legacy?
Her lover bent over her. She felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. His weight pressed down on her. The sensation set fire to her veins and Adne was overwhelmed by need.
She wanted to tell him. To say his name.
But she couldn’t remember it.
How was that possible?
His hands were tracing the shape of her body.
Why couldn’t she remember?
His lips touched her ear. “You are mine.”
“Yes,” Adne said again.
Who are you?
His hand cupped her cheek, turning her face. Adne parted her lips, anticipating his kiss.
Then a much more terrible question filled her mind.
Who am I?
His mouth covered hers and Adne couldn’t breathe. The desire heating her limbs fled, chased away by a cold hollowing of her bones.
With the little air left in her lungs, Adne screamed.
• • •
“Adne! Adne!” Connor gripped her shoulders.
Adne flailed, trying to free herself. She could still feel the other man’s weight, taste his breath.
“Adne, please!” Connor’s voice was on the edge of breaking. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
His voice still whispered to her, tempting her.
Remember me.
Amid her violent struggle, the sound of Connor’s voice reached Adne, breaking through the mesmerizing tones of the stranger’s words.
That voice. She knew that voice.
Adne went limp in Connor’s arms.
“I’m Ariadne,” she whispered.
“What did you say?” Connor gathered her slumped body against his chest.
The fog of the dream began to melt away and Adne saw Connor clearly. The horror in his eyes made her chest cramp.
“I—” She looked away from him. “It was nothing. A dream.”
“That wasn’t nothing, Adne,” Connor said. “I thought you were having a seizure.”
“It was a nightmare.” Adne groped for a lie. “I dreamt I was drowning. It was horrible, but it wasn’t real. I’m okay now.”
Connor didn’t answer. He held her tight and Adne could feel the rapid beating of his heart.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Adne said. She hesitated for a minute. “Maybe I should go.”
Connor tensed. “Is that what you want?”
“When was the last time you got a decent night of sleep?” Adne asked. “I’m pretty sure I’m making you miserable.”
“You could never do that,” Connor replied, but he sounded pretty miserable.
“Look.” Adne wriggled out of Connor’s arms and off the bed. “I’m not going to be able to sleep for a while anyway. Not after that dream. But there’s no reason for my nightmare to keep us both awake.”
Connor watched as Adne donned a robe.
“If you’re not going to sleep, where are you going?” His face was drawn.
Adne shrugged. “Maybe to the kitchen. To make some tea.”
She could tell that Connor knew she was lying, but he didn’t press her for the truth. Maybe he was afraid of what she’d say. She was.
Adne walked back to the bed and brushed a kiss across Connor’s cheek. “Get some rest. I’m sorry I kept you up.”
“Adne—” Connor grasped her wrist.