"Are you telling me that I'm asleep?"

"We both are."

"Okay." Alex had a feeling that part was true. "And you just happened to stumble into the same dream I'm having?" She held up a hand before he could reply. "Wait, I remember what you said the last time. You told me that I sent smoke signals for you or something. And you came, and decided to… pick up where we didn't leave off. I'll bet you did something to my memories so I wouldn't fight you, too."

He shrugged. "It was not permanent."

"How nice." Alex folded her arms. "Did you forget whom I belong to, and how consummately he's going to kick your ass for doing this to me?"

"I cannot enter your dreams without an invitation," Korvel said softly. "You were correct. This is no real place, and we are not here. You are in America; I am still in Ireland. Only our minds have come together. But you initiated the contact. You reached out to me. And you came when I called for you."

"Across the Atlantic Ocean." She planted her hands on her hips. "Telepathically."

"Our minds are one. No distance can separate us now." His eyes, hot and dilated, moved over her. "You can be with me here, Alex. Anytime you wish. We have but to sleep. He cannot read your mind. He will never know."

Incredibly, part of her wanted to jump him and finish what they'd started. A mindless, slut-eager part that, as soon as she woke up, she was amputating. "I'll know."

He shrugged. "You knew in Ireland."

"I know that your talent makes human females want to screw you." She needed three hours, a tub of hot soapy water, and a hard-bristled scrub brush. "It affects me the same way, and you knew it. I stayed away from you because of it. That's what I know."

Korvel's mouth flattened. "Then why have you been summoning me all these weeks? You can call Cyprien just as easily. More so, for you are bonded to him by blood. His sygkenis, his woman, his life companion. He created you. He commands you. If he is, as you say, your love, why is he not here in your dreams, Alexandra?"

She knew where he was going with this. "Nice try, Captain, but I'm only going dutch on this little guilt trip. You knew this was wrong. You could have stopped it from your end."

"I had no choice."

"Right. Well, dream's over. Go home." She went for the tent flap.

"Please, Alexandra, don't leave me again." His voice wound around her, a warm and unbreakable rope of velvet. "I came because I could not help myself. I fell in love with you in Ireland. I am still in love with you."

She glanced back. "To repeat for the thousandth time, I'm in a committed relationship. I do not bed-hop, even in my head. I'm taken."

"I don't care." The proudest and most reserved Kyn Alex had ever met now looked prepared to grovel. "I will take whatever you give me."

"If you're telling me the truth, all you can have is my sympathy. Good-bye, Captain." Alex stepped through the tent wall.

The tent, however, wouldn't let her through. Alex hung, trapped in the cold, stinging gel of the stuff, dead dragonflies floating in front of her eyes. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, and behind her the purple-blue light blazed, scorching her back, until she felt the skin start to shrivel and blacken, and knew she was going to die.

The tent wall shook, and then it dissolved as two long, beautiful hands caught her as she fell through the light and the darkness.

Open your eyes.

Alexandra, I am here.

Come to me, chérie.

Alex heard Michael in her head, felt him in her blood. He was holding her, kissing her, and if she didn't wake up he would die with her.

Alexandra.

"Michael."

Alex opened her eyes. She was back in the infirmary, on the floor this time, and Michael hovered over her, pinning her shoulders down, his eyes a solid amber and his mouth white.

He looked awful. She'd never been so glad to see him.

"Hey." She wriggled her shoulders and winced. "Don't I rate a bed?"

"Mon Dieu. You are awake." He lifted her gently into his arms. "You were in the bed," he told her as he carried her back to it. "You had a seizure and went into convulsions. After you fell I was afraid to move you."

"Don't you sound all medical." That explained the sensation of falling. "How long have I been here?"

"Three hours. You fell asleep at the archery contest. When I couldn't wake you I brought you here." He tried to smile. "I would call a doctor, but the only one in the house is on vacation."

He thought she was sick, physically sick. She had to tell him now.

"Michael, I know this is going to sound a little weird, but I had a bad dream. I've been having a lot of them." As he laid her down, she caught his hand. "I need to tell you this before I forget, or he makes me forget, or whatever happens to me when I wake up."

Alex told him everything, starting with what had happened at Dundellan after Richard's attack, how Korvel had tended to her, and the bizarre attraction she had felt for him, thanks to being exposed to his talent, which made every woman desire him.

She didn't make any excuses for herself or the captain, but gave Michael the facts as she remembered them. She described the dreams that she could remember, and repeated what Korvel had told her.

"That's all I've got," she said at last. "Whatever he's been doing to me—and I think my subconscious might have helped—it's over. If it happens again, I'll tell you."

Michael sat holding her hand and looked at her without saying a word. His eyes had faded from amber to turquoise, but she couldn't read any expression in them.

"You can yell at me if you want," she told him, his silence making her nervous. "I was practically cheating on you in my dreams."

"It is not your fault, chérie." He stood and moved away from the bed. "Korvel bonded you to him while you were being held by Richard. Possibly after the attack, as you suspected."

"How could he do that? I hardly knew the guy."

"He likely used his blood to help heal your wounds. At that time the bond you and I share was weakened because we were kept apart. He created a new bond before ours was severed." He shook his head. "All this time you have been caught between the two of us. That is what has been making you suffer since your return. You cannot belong to two masters."

She didn't think the Darkyn could hard-wire monogamy into a relationship, but there was still a lot about them and their condition that she didn't know. "I love you. You're not my master, but I love you. I may have been influenced by his talent, but I don't love Korvel. I don't even like him anymore."

"It has nothing to do with your emotions. The blood bond between a Kyn lord and his sygkenis is exclusive, unless he dies. Many times the sygkenis dies soon after, but some can bond with another lord. You are not like us in many ways; perhaps that is why you bonded with both of us at once." He took a deep breath. "Do you still want to go to him?"

"I don't know." Alex didn't like the way this conversation was heading. "Am I in trouble for this? Are you kicking me out?"

He hunched his shoulders. "I will let you go. If that is your wish. I will… I will try."

"I wish," she said carefully, "that you'd come over here. You have a gorgeous ass, but I'm tired of talking to it."

Michael came to her. The torment in his eyes made her heart wrench. "Will you stay with me?"

"Baby, I'm not going anywhere."

"Alexandra." He took her in his arms and held her close, tucking her head under his chin. "What have I done to you?"

"This wasn't your fault. Richard grabbed me. Korvel was nice to me. And then somehow he messed with my head, but not at my request. I just waited for you to come and get me." She snuggled against him and felt a deep, abiding joy spreading through her. "I was afraid that the only reason we were together was because of the bond thing. That it was making us love each other. But it wasn't. It isn't."

"The bond is very strong," he admitted, kissing the top of her head, "but it cannot create love where there is none."

"Yeah, I just found that out. Korvel fell in love with me, but the feelings were not reciprocal." She sighed. "So it looks like you're stuck with me, seigneur. Unless you're tired of this yoyo we have for a relationship. In that case, I guess I could call the airport and see when the next flight to Chicago—"

He tilted her head back and smothered the rest of what she meant to say with his lips.

Chapter 17

The exile stood in the guard tower and looked out over the land. Now that Aedan mac Byrne was dead, it would be his: the bloodright denied him ever since his father had learned of his existence and sent him away so that no one would know he was his true heir.

He had had a bad moment when he had seen the girl ride out to the grove. She had already ruined everything for him once; he could not permit her to do so again. But then, to his delight, she had fallen into the trap. This time he had ensured that it was deep enough to prevent any escape. It would keep her where she belonged—in the ground.

It would be foolish to ride out again to gloat over the lord's dead body. It would be foolhardy to go only to assure that the girl could not escape. Of course, if he were caught, he could easily shift the blame.

He looked out over the land. Whatever he did, it would be his by next moonrise. By bloodright.

Robin of Locksley left the keep and walked over to the stables. At the entry to the barns, Nottingham's seneschal, looking comically small atop one of the largest of Byrne's chargers, nearly ran him over.

"Pardon, my lord," he shouted, trying to control the steed and nearly losing his seat. The big animal snorted and bucked once before leaping into a gallop.

"Damned fool," Harlech muttered as he strode out. "I told him that horse is too much for him."