Dark Miracle

Rhys figured out it was another man in The Dream about two years ago. He'd accepted it, though at first he'd been really freaked out. He wasn't attracted to men, and he didn't consider himself to be gay. Then again, he understood the way the human mind worked, and after reading Jung's works on the psychology of dreams, he accepted that it was entirely possible his dreams weren't even about another man, but were entirely about himself and his strange gifts. He didn't really care. At this point in his life, he couldn't so much as hug another person without being bombarded by psychic sludge. He routinely wore leather driving gloves when he worked so that he could shake hands with people and not get slammed with their unconscious baggage. If his psyche dealt with his skin hunger by building it into a big, strong, blond-haired alter ego who made hard, passionate love to him in his dreams, so be it. Rhys spread his legs wider and thrust his leaking cock deeper into the sucking mouth that worshipped it so sweetly.

He felt his cock come down out of the wonderful, tight throat where it had been resting as his dream lover sucked and licked, then the cool air hit it, a shocking difference, and gooseflesh erupted along Rhys's thighs. Rhys groaned, erection jerking again as strong hands gripped his slim hips and flipped him, putting him on his hands and knees.

Closing his eyes, Rhys took a deep breath and fell into sensation overload as cool air hit his asshole, making it twitch. He groaned, his forehead dropping down onto the bed as his lover rimmed him with a maddenly light touch before smoothly sliding two fingers deep inside of him. The next thing Rhys knew, those fingers were slowly pumping in and out of him as that perfect mouth let him thrust down into it from above. Oh god, oh sweet, sweet jesus, it was too good. Rhys tried to pull away, to make it last longer, and his lover let him, but only because... oh shit... Rhys felt the mouth slide over into the crease of his groin and start to suck, moving down his thigh to the where the big vein ran so close to the surface.

Rhys knew what was going to happen, because it was where The Dream was taking him more and more often to absolutely explosive orgasms. His lover was going to keep finger-fucking his ass, and goddamn if that didn't just send him right over the moon, but then he'd fist his dick, stroking him in time to the thrusts against his prostate, and then... then he'd bite Rhys. The sucking draws on his vein would be in perfect harmony with the other actions on his body, but they would also match his heartbeat, as if his lover were letting his heart pump blood right out into his waiting mouth. Andthat would make Rhys explode in an orgasm so hard it almost hurt. He'd wake up wet, throbbing, aching, and spent, with tears running down his face, feeling bereft and lonelier than ever.

Except it didn't happen that way this time. Before his lover could start stroking him off, something poked Rhys in the side and a voice intruded.

"Rhys Rasmus?"

The image of his dream lover with his gorgeous, strong body and beautiful, thick blond hair was abruptly displaced as other images encroached on the dreamscape. A shitty green Honda Accord that needed a new radiator broken down on an unfamiliar bridge, a funny looking guy with a bad haircut leaving a pair of boxers under a sofa cushion, the ticket counter at AirEuro... Rhys fought to get his lover back, to block the other images out, but they wouldn't go away, and he felt another nudge.

"Mr. Rasmus?"

Rhys opened his eyes to see a ticket agent with bad skin and worse teeth standing over him, poking him with a bony finger. He jerked away, the obligatory, "Don't touch me!" hissing out of his mouth before he could stop it.

The woman looked at him strangely but pulled her offensive finger away, then said, "Your computer is going off."

Rhys frowned, then heard his droid and pulled it out. Aidan was at the baggage area trying to find him and he was sleeping here in the first class lounge. Sighing, he stood, stretched, and immediately stopped, realizing he still had a major erection. Damn. He pulled his jacket down and swore ripely, wishing Aidan could've been a little less prompt, and then realized if Aidan had been late, Rhys would've ended up meeting him with pants soaked at the crotch. Heads turned as Rhys laughed at nothing, gathering his things and leaving the lounge at a dash. This trip justhad to get better.

****

The drive to the Kizevicius estate was long, but Rhys took the time to pump Aidan for information. He learned as much as he could about Szeren Kizevicius, though he found it more than a little strange that Aidan had recommended him to somebody he'd never met in person.

"Szeren and I share a common ancestry. Our roots are here in the Carpathian Mountains, and we both maintain ancestral homes here. Because the culture from which we both originate is dwindling so rapidly, those of us who are still alive try to form as much of a community, a culture, as we can."

"So you maintain two households?"

Aidan nodded. He had no idea why he was moved to share so much personal information with the man. Something about Rhys just seemed to dictate that he be truthful with the young human... if he was in fact, human. The more time Aidan spent with him, the surer Aidan became that Rhys was a member of one of the hidden races, though which one he might be was still a mystery to Aidan. He'd tried several times to scan Rhys's mind and had not been able to penetrate the prodigious shields the male had in place. With infinite care and subtlety, he stretched forth again.

Rhys sighed. "That's incredibly rude, Aidan. Whatever you want to know, just ask me."

Aidan's head whipped around, shocked. Now he was sure. No human had ever caught him probing. Hell, most Carpathians didn't catch him! Aidan took a deep breath and blew it out, considering how to phrase his question. Well, damn. The kid told him to just ask, so he would.

"I'm sorry, Rhys. I... didn't expect you to catch me. I'm just wondering what you are."

Rhys looked perplexed. "I'm a psychometrist. You know that."

Aidan smiled. "No, I meant... what race."

Rhys stared at him, heart pounding.This is what he'd wanted to ask Aidan about, the conversation he'd been dying to have, the very thing he'd been sure the famous, reclusive philanthropist wouldn't want to talk about. Before he could launch into his prepared speech though, Rhys shivered, an icy finger of fear stroking down the nape of his neck. He sat bolt upright in the front seat of the very expensive Italian sports car and peered out the window into the darkness of the early evening. His plane landed with the sun chasing its wings, a dazzling and beautiful sight, but by the time Aiden collected him at baggage, full dark had fallen. With no streetlights and little outdoor illumination, Rhys had been relying on the headlights of the car to catch glimpses of the scenery as they whizzed past. Now he wished he had night-vision goggles, because he felt eyes on him, the same uncomfortable, scrutinizing, hungry stare he'd felt in San Francisco.

Someone was out there.

Someone was watching him.

"Are you all right?" Aiden asked, concerned.

"Sorry. City paranoia," Rhys said, smiling weakly.

"You sense something?"

Rhys shrugged. "Lately I've been getting the sense that I'm being watched, but there's never anyone around when I scan."

Aidan quickly reached out to scan for the taint of the undead, carefully checking for the blank spots that would indicate a vampire in the vicinity. He didn't find anything, but as he scanned, he became aware of the same unease that Rhys had noticed. "I don't sense anything, but after we get to the house and get you settled, Szeren and I will go out and hunt for a while."

"Hunt?" Rhys asked, his eyebrows raised.

Aidan truly couldn't believe he'd said it. Something about Rhys made Aidan treat the male as though he was one of them. He gave Rhys an intense look. "You know I'm more than a collector of fine art, Rhys."

Rhys nodded, his heartbeat increasing as his excitement ratcheted up. This was what he wanted to know. The truth, finally, about what Aidan was and did in the city. "I figured when you were ready to tell me, you'd tell me."

Aidan chuckled. "It seems I tell you things regardless of how ready I am. You are far too easy to talk to, Rhys Rasmus. A kind man would warn Szeren Kizevicius to be on his guard with you, but..." Aidan's golden eyes sparkled with a predator's intent as he accelerated up a small rise. "I am not a kind man."

Rhys laughed, then sobered. "So, your race, what you are, you obviously have some psychic skills."

"Some, yes. Nothing so developed as yours. Do you intend to answer my question about your race? You did tell me to ask instead of probe."

Rhys swallowed dryly and nodded. "I wanted to ask you the same thing."

"I'm Carpathian. Pure Carpathian."

That meant nothing to Rhys but he nodded, a small frown on his face. Aidan's gaze was tight on his face as they continued to climb into the mountains.

"I don't know exactly what I am," Rhys said quietly. "I never knew my father. My mother went to an open-air concert in Golden Gate Park... She said she was lost from the moment he spoke to her. She couldn't have said, 'No' to him about anything. She'd just turned 15 and she was a virgin; he seduced her there at the concert and saw her every afternoon for the next two weeks."

"She was with him in daylight?" Aidan asked sharply.

Rhys frowned harder, nodding. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, yes, they would've had to be. Mom wasn't old enough to date; she wasn't allowed to go out at night."

Aidan nodded, whipping the little convertible around the hairpin turns of the mountain roads. Rhys noticed that the man drove like a racecar enthusiast who was being chased by the devil himself.

"Your mother isn't psychic?"

Rhys shook his head. "No. She was while she was pregnant with me, though."

Aidan frowned. "Excuse me?"

"While she was pregnant with me, she had visions. Her doctors almost locked her up because they thought she was having some kind of schizophrenic break. You know, brought on by the hormones of the pregnancy? I guess it can happen but it's really, really rare. Anyway, my mom is very smart. She figured out the score, dialed back what she told the doctors, and managed to stay out of a psych ward."

Rhys smiled as the cool breeze whipped through his thick, shoulder-length hair, blowing it back from his face. "In a way it was a good thing she got to experience that, because when my abilities came online, she was the one who believed me, who stuck up for me with my teachers and doctors."

Aidan processed what Rhys was telling him, still trying to figure out what race Rhys's father, and hence, Rhys, was a part of and not having much luck, when Rhys turned to him. "So... what's a pure Carpathian?"

Damn. Aidan blew out a breath. "We're a race of peoples from the Carpathian Mountain region who share a common history and language," he said. He met Rhys's eyes. "And we have some psychic talents."

Rhys nodded. "So why do you need me for this job?"

"Our skills run toward other areas. None of us can do what you do, certainly not as well or with results as accurate."

Rhys laughed. "You sure know how to make a guy feel wanted."

Aiden pointed. "We're here."

Rhys had been prepared for something right out of Dracula with a drawbridge and a moat, maybe even some scowling gargoyles. What he hadn't been expecting was the storybook cottage behind a circular driveway they were pulling into, with sculpted, shaped shrubbery lining one side, and Alexandria, Aidan's wife, waiting for them on the other.

Rhys watched with admiration as Aidan pulled his long, muscular body from the little sports car and swept his wife up in an embrace before Rhys even had his seatbelt off.

"Alex, this is Rhys Rasmus. Rhys, this is Alexandria, my wife, my mate, the light of my life," Aidan said, returning to pull Rhys's suitcases from the car's boot as though they weighed nothing. Rhys let Aidan get his clothes but kept a firm hold on his computer gear as they moved towards the doors.

"Nice to meet you, Alex," Rhys said, not offering a hand.

"It's great to finally meet you, Rhys. Aidan's talked so much about you, I feel like I know you already." Alexandria's voice was a perfect contralto, low, sweet, and musical. She brushed a hand through Aidan's hair absently. "Szeren's anxious to get started on the search."

"Is he inside?"

"Yes, going over the map that Gregori brought over."

"You have a detailed map of the area?" Rhys asked, catching a bit of their conversation as he followed them inside the beautiful house.

"Yes. You requested one, so we got several to make sure we'd have what you needed. Oh good. Szeren! This is the psychic, Rhys Rasmus. Rhys, this is your actual client, Szeren Kizevicius."

Rhys's entire universe halted, though. Everything stopped moving, breathing, existing. Aidan had been talking, they'd walked through the foyer of the house, through a great room, around a corner, and there was a big blond in tight Levis and a black T-shirt leaning over what were surely the maps. Upon hearing his name, he'd turned around, but by then the brakes had been thrown, the emergency stops engaged, because Rhys would've known that hair, would've known the shape of that back anywhere. He should - he'd been making love to the man in The Dream now for eight years.

Szeren was just a few inches taller than Rhys, his body broader and heavier, with more muscle mass. Their hair was nearly the same length hitting them both at the shoulder, but Szeren's wheat-blond mass was tied back at his nape with a leather thong. Rhys's dark red tresses were carelessly wind-blown and disheveled. Rhys put Szeren's age somewhere between 25 and 40, though he suspected he was probably closer to 40 because of his eyes. The sexy blond had old, experienced eyes.

Rhys took in the amazing face he was finally seeing, and it had been worth the wait. Szeren's face was a collection of hard angles, clearly defined planes, and sharp lines set side by side with eyes like ice chips and lips that looked so red and soft Rhys was actually whimpering with the need to taste them. The man was almost too beautiful to be real, and Rhys couldfeel the bond between them, the very real connection they shared. He abruptly didn't give two shits about being gay or straight or anything in between. All that mattered was that he get his hands on Szeren Kizevicius, that he hear Szeren say...something. He needed Szeren to say something to him, but for the life of him, he didn't know what he expected the man to say.

Rhys dropped everything he was carrying and took two purposeful strides toward Szeren, his heart in his eyes. Szeren, however, looked terrified, and took several staggering steps away from Rhys. Aidan and Alexandria watched the two in stunned silence as Rhys frowned.

"Why are you backing away from me?" Rhys asked, his voice soft and melodic.

The sound hit Szeren's ears and sent shivery tingles across every inch of his skin. He closed his eyes, gasping audibly as needles of prickly fire lit him up from the inside out. When he opened his eyes, colors assaulted him, bleeding across his field of vision and staining the world like a crazed watercolor. The deep browns of the parquet flooring, the beautiful butter yellow of the paint on the wall, the amazing explosion of red, green, pink, and white in the flower arrangement on the side table... No colors were more stunning, though, than the scintillating dark fire of Rhys's scarlet hair or the deep, drowning blue of his eyes. Szeren stared, helpless, as his body hardened viciously, the ritual words swirling up from the depths of his subconscious.

How? He wondered, close to panic, eyes riveted to the beautiful male in front of him. Everything in him demanded he claim this...male. That's not possible, he whispered in his own mind. Lifemates are females.Yours isn't. Szeren wanted to scream. He started to shake. Darting a look over at Aidan and Alexandria, he saw that they looked as confused and as baffled as he felt, but Alexandria had a knowing glint in her eye. Ah gods, the woman knew!

"You know who I am," Rhys said, a pleading tone to his voice as he took another step toward Szeren. God, Rhys could feel the psychic threads binding their souls together! They were meant for each other! He lifted his hand, reaching out to Szeren and prayed the older man would reach out, grab him, draw him in against that ripped body, or at the very least just take his hand, just wrap his warm fingers around Rhys's so that they had that much of a connection.

Need and desire warred within Szeren with the shame he felt for hurting this male, his lifemate, and the emotions were so intense, so vivid after centuries of nothing that Szeren almost screamed. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't be the Carpathian who called a male to mate. With one last look at Rhys's outstretched hand and a desperate, silent cry, he turned and fled.

Rhys had honestly never felt this kind of pain before. He'd broken his leg skiing, dislocated a shoulder rock-climbing, and had emergency surgery to remove a burst appendix, all of which hurt like hell, but none of which even came close to what he felt right now. He saw the recognition in Szeren's face, the clear acknowledgement that the man knew they shared some unspoken bond. Yet instead of trying to talk about it, learn something of it, the man he was supposed to be with - and Rhys knew without a doubt that he was supposed to be with Szeren - ran away. It felt like he'd been stabbed. Repeatedly. He wanted to get angry with the man, but he was in such agony, such incredible, wrenching pain, that it was impossible to be mad.

He managed to stumble to the leather sofa where he sat, head in his hands. He had a terrible headache, and tried to rub his temples, though it did no good. He felt the air stir near him and the words came out unbidden. "Don't touch me!"

Alexandria jerked back. "I'm sorry," she murmured, backing quickly away. "I'll just... get you something to drink."

Rhys sighed, hating that he'd snapped at Aidan's wife. It wasn't her fault that he'd made a fool of himself in front of his employer. Damn. The man was probably straight, and Rhys had just all but thrown himself at him. Just because Rhysfelt something didn't mean it was going to happen or even should happen, Rhys knew that. God, he'd made a total idiot of himself in front of both his client and Aidan, and all because the guy looked like the man in his recurring dream! Yeah,that would go over well when he tried to explain.

Rhys tried to take deep breaths, tried to center himself and get some control back. It hadn't helped that Szeren really was fantastic looking, and that, for just a second or two, he'd stared at Rhys like he was going to make the dream a reality. But no, Rhys was here to work, and what he'd done was so totally inappropriate he wouldn't be surprised if Aidan asked him to leave. All he could do now was apologize, and hope he could make things right by finding the heirloom that was missing. And by keeping his hands to himself, as difficult as that was going to be, he thought. To his horror, tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep them from spilling over as he rubbed the center of his chest, where his heart still hurt from Szeren's unequivocal rejection.

In the kitchen, Alexandria got a bottle of water from the refrigerator and a glass from the cabinet.

"Don't you understand, Aidan? Rhys is his lifemate!"

"But... that's not possible."