What the Heart Takes

  His eyes wavered with emotion, as did their bond. “I know you love me. I’ve never questioned that, except for Aruba, and that was because of my stubbornness. I’ve come close to losing you twice because of it. I don’t want it to happen again.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She grabbed his hand, placing it against her stomach. “We’re bound, Dylan. In heart, in soul, in every breath we take. I will always be yours.”

  His lips pressed together as he feigned a smile. “Deep down, I know you’re right. I shouldn’t let it bother me, but I can’t help it. Before you came into my life, he was my closest friend. We’ve been through a lot.”

  “And I complicated that.” Her eyes fell to the floor, but only for a moment. His fingers slid under her chin as he nudged it upward.

  “No, you completed me. You gave me the one thing I’ve searched for my entire life…you. I’m the complication, Heaven. My screw-ups keep hurting you.”

  “I’m not without fault, but isn’t that what love’s about? Accepting a person for who they are, faults and all. Taking a chance with your heart and not holding back. Love isn’t about what our hearts want or need. It’s about what our hearts take to keep beating. My heart takes you.”

  He gave her the softest, sweetest kiss he’d ever given her as he pushed the ill feelings aside. “I’ve never done anything in this life to deserve someone like you. How did I get so lucky?”

  “That’s simple.” She placed his hand against her chest as she inhaled. “You breathed.”

  Soothing vibrations pulsed within their connection. She loved the way his eyes closed the second she released her breath. Loved even more the way he pulled her closer. Another caress of their lips helped dissolve the frustration begging to surface. Then he stepped aside, allowing her to pass through the door.

  She wasted no time in moving through the cottage. The sound of her bare feet against the wooden floor echoed in her ears. If she weren’t so worried about Layne, she might actually laugh because she sounded like an elephant. With her expanding waistline, she probably looked like one, too.

  A cool breeze blew in the window at the end of the hall, bringing a briny scent with it. Any other night she would step onto the patio, take in the night air to help relax her mind. Right now, she couldn’t. She had to check on Layne.

  The second she stepped inside the living room, she knew something was off. The smoky scent filling her nose confirmed the thought.

  “What is that smell?” Dylan grumbled behind her.

  They exchanged glances before she sprinted toward Layne’s room. She would’ve begged Dylan to bust through the door had it not been standing open, but scanning the inside brought her no relief. Layne wasn’t there, though he had been at some point. The unkempt sheets were proof enough.

  “Where is he?” Her voice shook with emotion as she turned toward her husband. “He’s gone, Dylan.”

  “He’s gotta be here, somewhere. Can’t you sense him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a little.” She gazed around the room, noting the clothes strewn across the floor. An empty rum bottle lay on its side atop the nightstand. It looked like Layne’s room at any given time except for one notable oddity. The smoky haze floating toward the window.

  She tried to step forward, but Dylan’s fingers warmed her bare shoulder. “Don’t go in there, Heaven. You shouldn’t breathe the smoke. I’ll look around.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Hardness filled her voice as she shot back the words. She hated the sound as much as she hated the thought of hurting him. Regardless of the stress, he didn’t deserve her attitude when he was just looking out for her and the baby.

  Sending him a remorseful vibe, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t mean to sound so hateful. I’m just worried. Besides, most of the smoke’s going out the window.”

  He finally gave her a nod and moved into the room. “I don’t know what we’re looking for. It’s obvious he’s not in here.”

  “I know he’s not.” She waved her hand in front of her face as she stepped over the clothes on the floor. “But we need to find out what’s on fire before this place burns to the ground.”

  Refocusing on the bed, she searched for the source of the smoke as well as clues to where Layne could be. He had to be close. There was still an indentation in the mattress where he’d been laying.

  While most of the sheet spilled onto the floor, the comforter lay beside it in a massive pile. She eyed the striped pattern, noting black splotches from where it caught fire. Drumsticks were tossed a couple inches away, still smoldering.

  “I think I found what’s burn—”

  The words failed to form when she noticed red fabric lying beneath the comforter. Fabric that was identical to the shorts Layne wore earlier.

  “God…no!” She’d meant to scream the words, but the fear building in her heart muffled the harshness.

  Dylan was at her side in less than a heartbeat. He gripped her arm, pulling her back when she tried to kneel on the floor. “Don’t touch it.”

  “Oh my, God, Dylan. Please tell me that’s not him under there.”

  Frightful scenarios played through her mind, forcing her eyes to water. She blinked away the first teardrop before burying her head in her husband’s chest.

  He cradled the back of her head, whispering, “It’s not him. It can’t be him.”

  For the first time since he’d learned of the kiss, Heaven sensed Dylan’s concern for Layne. No matter how much he wanted to hate him for what happened, he still cared about his best friend. Every sorrow-filled thump of his energy said the same.

  As tears multiplied on her cheeks, Dylan pulled away. He cradled her face in his hands, meeting her eye-to-eye. “Heaven, listen to me. I need you to go into the hallway and calm down. You’re upset. The baby’s upset. This isn’t good for either of you.”

  “I’m sorry, Dylan, I’m just…wait… What did you just say?” She took a step back, touching her hands to her stomach. “Can you feel our baby’s emotions?”

  “On certain occasions, yes, I can. This is one of those occasions. So please, calm down and let me find Layne.”

  “Consider him found.”

  It wasn’t just the words that made Heaven’s skin tingle. It was the cocky tone within them and the lips that spoke them. When her eyes finally landed on him, she let out a gasp. Layne stood before her, perfectly safe…and perfectly naked.

  She started to turn just as Dylan blocked her view. To say he was infuriated would be a nice way of putting it. He wanted to kill Layne, or at least beat some sense into him. Every ounce of his anger rocked her to the core.

  “What the fuck, man?” His arms went wide as he flung them from his sides. “Get some damn clothes on.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d be in here, or you for that matter.” Layne’s feet smacked against the hardwood floor as he stomped about. “Why the hell are you guys in here? This is my room.”

  Dylan started forward, but Heaven grabbed his arm, pulling it back until he faced her. She cupped his neck, forcing his head down to hers. “It’s okay. I…I didn’t see anything.” At least nothing she wanted to acknowledge, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “He shouldn’t be running around butt naked with you in the house. I don’t even want to know why he’s—”

  “Shh.” She covered his mouth until his lips stopped moving. He needed to decompress, and the quickest way to do that was to focus on something positive. Something to remind him of the love they shared.

  She pressed his hand against her belly, stroking the top with her fingers. “If you’re connected to the baby, then the baby’s connected to you. So you need to calm down, for both of us.”

  His chest rose with a deep breath and then slowly deflated. He gave her a nod as he caressed her stomach. The baby kicked a second later, bringing a smile back to his lips. She wanted to hold onto that moment of serenity, but Layne cleared his throat from behind.

  “You can turn
around now. I put The Beast away.”

  A rush of fire spread across her face, but it didn’t burn as much as the anger in Dylan’s eyes. “It’s okay,” she mouthed, teasing his cheek with her fingers. Thank God he couldn’t sense his friend’s emotions, because right now, Layne was enjoying every awkward second.

  Stepping to the side, Dylan unblocked her view. She gave him a gentle squeeze before shifting her eyes toward Layne. Although he’d slipped on a pair of sweats, it didn’t erase the image that flashed through her mind. Six feet of tan, toned flesh. Every. Single. Inch.

  If he looked like that naturally, with an erection, he would be…

  Heat resurfaced in her cheeks as she pushed the thought aside and met his eyes. He gave her an odd look, as though he knew her very thoughts. Great. As if things couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

  “Are you okay?” She watched his lips crook as one brow rose.

  “Yeah.” He exaggerated the word, taking a few steps toward her and Dylan. “And you’re surprised because…?”

  She couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping any more than she could hold back the frustration his sarcasm caused. “Forget about the fact that I had this horrible dream about you. I came looking for you and found burnt covers instead. Why wouldn’t I—we— be worried?”

  “You had a bad dream?” He waited until she nodded before stepping closer. “They must be going around. I had a crazy one about you.”

  Heaven parted her lips to reply, but a crackling sound resonated behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, shocked to see the comforter had reignited.

  Footsteps brought her attention back to Layne. He brushed by Dylan, not giving him a second glance. His eyes fixed on her until he passed. She, on the other hand, couldn’t look away from him.

  Once he reached the comforter, he stomped the flames until they extinguished. Had she tried to do the same, her feet would be blistered, but not him. He stood in the middle of the blanket, staring at something on the floor. She wasn’t sure what until he picked up the drumsticks.

  “What happened, Layne?” She took a step closer, hesitating on the next when Dylan moved with her. While she didn’t doubt he was being protective, she knew he was curious to Layne’s odd behavior.

  No words formed on Layne’s lips when he met her eyes. She didn’t need them anyway. His energy said enough. Each vicious thump surrounded her with fear and confusion.

  “Layne?”

  “It’s nothing.” He glanced at Dylan then shifted his attention to the smoky blanket. “Just a bad dream.”

  The walls seemed to close around her when she realized what he’d said. She licked her lips, steadying her heart before she asked for more details. Dylan beat her to it.

  “What was the dream about?”

  He knew she was reading Layne. Must have sensed the question in her soul, which meant the baby wasn’t blocking them at the moment.

  Even with the question hanging in the air, Layne kept his back to her and Dylan. He twisted the drumsticks with his fingers, tracing the area below the blackened wood. “I don’t want to talk about it. It was graphic. You don’t want to know.”

  The more he avoided the question, the more Heaven’s suspicions grew. Whatever his dream entailed, it upset him. She didn’t doubt it for a second. Not with the protective vibrations reverberating in his energy.

  “Maybe we don’t want to know, but we need to know, Layne. Please, will you tell me what—?”

  “Damn it, why do you two do this shit?” He spun around to face her, flashing her a set of folded brows. “What part of I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it don’t you get? You do not want to hear this.”

  “Doesn’t matter if we don’t,” Dylan blasted back. “Just answer the question.”

  “Fine.” Layne growled the words, keeping his eyes on her. “Since you’re hell-bent on knowing, I had a dream I failed at being your Keeper.”

  “How so?”

  The anger raging through Layne’s soul swirled around hers. He stared so hard she swore she saw fire in his eyes. “Because I dreamed you were murdered.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Admitting she had would mean one thing. That their connection ran deeper than she ever imagined, and a hell of a lot deeper than Dylan wanted.

  “How did I die, Layne?”

  Dylan’s fingers gripped her shoulders. He leaned his head against hers and whispered in her ear. “Do you really want to hear this?”

  “Yes,” she answered, not taking her eyes off Layne. “I have to know the details. How did I die, Layne?”

  His eyes fluttered closed before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sweet, Jesus.”

  “Praying isn’t going to change my mind. Tell me how I died.”

  Layne left his spot in the middle of the comforter. He didn’t stop until he stood a foot away, near the end of the bed. She watched his eyes wavering between hers and Dylan’s as he parted his lips.

  “You were stabbed, Heaven.” He moved his hand forward, pointing to her stomach. “Right there.”

  Dylan’s hands curled around her belly as his chest heated her back. The wicked beat of their connection resonated in her head. She knew he’d suspected the same thing she had. Layne’s presence in the dream wasn’t because he’d been on her mind, or Dylan’s for that matter. He’d been with them.

  She turned to meet her husband’s gaze, squeezing his hand as a measure of comfort. Not that it helped. He still shot daggers in Layne’s direction.

  “Unbelievable,” he whispered.

  “See. I told you that you wouldn’t want to hear it.” The heat of Layne’s energy faded as he stepped away. She tore her eyes from Dylan long enough to see him kneel beside the comforter. “Maybe next time you two will back off when I tell you.”

  “That’s not why he said that, Layne.”

  His eyes peered over his shoulder, locking onto her. “What do you mean?”

  “The dream you had…well, you weren’t the only one who had it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The breeze blowing in from the ocean had a level of warmth that made Heaven’s heart steady. After the last forty minutes, she needed something to calm her nerves. Fifteen of those awkward minutes were spent in silence, at least, verbally. But where words failed, energy always triumphed.

  Waves of confusion rolled off Layne, sending his energy into a sporadic pulse, one that alternated from a cool calmness to an inferno of irritation. Being her Keeper didn’t come easy, and every time he seemed to find a rhythm, he tripped over another bump in the road. That bump bore the name of Dylan McBride.

  She tuned into her husband’s energy, cringing at the bitterness radiating through their connection. The tug of his soul said he wanted her attention, but she refused to face him. Not until he let go of the negativity. After five months of tension-filled rooms, she didn’t know how much more she could take. And Layne’s stark appearance in his room had only made things worse.

  Stupid testosterone. In times like this, it did nothing but puff a man’s chest and inflate his ego. They had more important things to figure out.

  She moved her eyes to the torch burning beside her, recounting parts of the dream. It was this very torch where Layne stood, making the flame rise higher. He’d even formed a miniature version in his hand. Twice. The first time had been from curiosity, the second, from fear. Yet the conflagration he hurled toward Raphe and his crew was purely defensive.

  But what did any of it mean?

  While she couldn’t deny his energy had grown, it showed no signs of stability, something her father said he must have to master his abilities. She needed to know what it would take to get him to that point, and there was only one way to find out. They had to go home. Not just for answers, but to be safe. The island wasn’t safe anymore. It couldn’t be after the dream.

  Maybe that was its purpose—to warn them of impending danger. God knows she’d wished for the same opportunity during the dream.

  Citric scented oil lingered i
n the air. She inhaled a deep breath, shifting her gaze to the lounge chair not far from where she stood. Layne remained inside, sitting in the exact position as the last time she’d checked—head in his hands, elbows on his knees.

  She’d caught him by surprise when she recounted his dream, scene by horrible scene. In reality, she’d been just as surprised because she wanted to be wrong, wanted Layne’s dream to be completely different from hers and Dylan’s. Nothing could be that simple. Their lives had twisted together, spiraling them beyond the road of complications, straight into purgatory.

  Switching her attention to the opposite side of the deck, she found her husband leaning back on the rail, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes remained forward, in the direction of the cottage. It gave him a somber appearance, but she sensed the war raging inside him, no matter how much he wanted to hide it.

  She didn’t enjoy the erratic jolts of his frustration, but she understood why he was upset. The dreams were special to them. They were their only means to escape the reality of their crazy life, to forget about her connection with Layne, and ignore Nate’s threats. Most importantly, the dreams were their chance to be alone, to laugh, to love, to live the way they wanted.

  Layne’s appearance took away their last chance at solitude. Now she needed to figure out how he’d managed to get in their dream and why. Hopefully, their parents would have those answers.

  “Are you sure it was the same dream and not a similar one?”

  Layne’s voice drew her eyes away from Dylan. They swept across the deck, back to the chair where he sat. His elbows remained on his knees, but he’d moved his hands from his head, folding them in front of his legs.

  “I’m sure, Layne. A similar one would be too coincidental.” She waited to see if he’d look at her, sensing the battle within him to give in to that desire. But after a moment of silence, she gave up. “I watched your face when I told you about mine and Dylan’s dream. Every single description matched yours to a tee.”

  The desire within him spilled over, sending curious eyes rushing in her direction. “What makes you think that?”