The Dream Catcher Read online

  The Dream Catcher

  by

  Allyson James

  I should have listened to my mother.

  Normally, Natalia Sorvenska would never have dreamed of answering an invitation to Lady Delia’s autumnal soiree, no matter how prettily engraved. But the invitation had borne the words: “Lady Delia will display a Dream Catcher.”

  Natalia had never seen a Dream Catcher - mystical beings that lived in the mountainous region beyond the Eastern Rim. They were magical, mysterious, elusive. Snaring one was an astonishing feat.

  To judge by the crowd filling Delia’s mansion on the hill, Natalia surmised that no one else could resist coming either. Delia had hung her ballroom with garlands of real autumn leaves imported from the mountain forests, Dream Catchers’ realms. It must have been a huge expense to have them transported hundreds of miles across the desert. Musicians had been seated throughout the balconies, and captive glow-flies swirled against the misty black ceiling.

  Natalia sipped her blood-red wine and waited for something to happen. She was surprised that Lady Delia had bothered to invite her, when Delia made no secret that she despised Natalia and women like her. She must want to rub her acquisition of a Dream Catcher in Natalia’s face. The other guests were surprised at her inclusion too, if the way faces turned away and skirts were pulled aside when Natalia passed were any indication.

  At last they saw movement near the raised platform at the end of the ballroom. Skirts and silken veils rustled as the high-born ladies of Bor Narga pressed forwards to see. Natalia went with them, as shamelessly curious as the rest.

  “Ladies.” Delia N’riss stepped onto the dais and raised her hands for silence. “And gentleman,” she added as a deferential afterthought. Her guests dutifully tittered.

  “I’ve had the greatest good fortune. After a very long search, my hunters have at last found and captured a Dream Catcher for me.”

  She paused, gloating under their gasps of admiration. Delia had always demanded the most attention, even when she and Natalia had been childhood friends. Delia always had to dance in the front, be given the most sweets, wear the prettiest dress.

  Delia lifted her hands again, liking her power. “I have decided to share my fortune, my friends. I will allow the Dream Catcher to choose a lady from among my guests and read her dreams.” She smiled as a ripple of pleasure ran through the crowd. “And so without further ado, I bring you - the Dream Catcher.”

  No applause. Too many breaths were held for that. Two men in desert tunics walked onto the dais leading a third man by a rope. The rope was loosely knotted around his neck and again at his wrists, but witch rope didn’t need to be tight. Just its touch would keep magical creatures confined.

  Natalia froze. The Dream Catcher was a tall man, towering over his captives. He had a broad chest dusted with black hair, shoulder muscles rippling despite the bruises and burn marks on his skin. Black hair flowed like silk down his bare back, and he wore only a leather thong around his hips, a loincloth hiding his privates. The rest of his body was on display for all to see.

  Natalia looked. She couldn’t help herself. She had never seen so much naked male flesh in her life, not even her husband’s. Especially not her husband’s. The other ladies pretended to look away, to hide eyes behind veils, but how could they resist?

  The Dream Catcher stood upright, not cowed by his capture. But his leg was twisted, and the marks on his body indicated they’d beaten him. He hurt. Natalia suddenly wanted to touch him, to comfort him, to reassure him.

  As though he sensed her sudden stab of pity, the Dream Catcher raised his head and looked straight at her.

  Natalia felt herself falling, being pulled towards his great silver eyes, larger than a normal man’s, intense and magical. But no, she still stood on her two feet halfway across the ballroom. She squeezed the stem of her wine glass, unable to look away. The wine glass broke, and blood trickled down her fingers.

  The Dream Catcher cocked his head, staring at her like an animal intent on its prey. The ladies between him and Natalia parted as though his gaze physically shoved them aside.

  Lady Delia smiled a nasty smile. “It seems he has chosen you, Natalia.”

  The ladies around her looked disappointed. Some pulled their gauzy veils closer over their faces so they wouldn’t be caught having anything so gauche as an emotion.

  Natalia turned to Delia in confusion, breaking the spell of the Dream Catcher’s eyes. “No,” she said quickly. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The Dream Catcher chooses the one whose desires most call to him.”

  Her eyes held viciousness. Natalia stared at her in shock. Delia couldn’t be that cruel, could she? But Delia’s smile told Natalia that she could. Her triumph in capturing a Dream Catcher must have gone to her head.

  “No,” Natalia repeated. She deposited her broken wine glass on a nearby table and turned to leave, sweeping her own crimson veil across her face.

  The silk stifled her, nearly gagging her. But behind it she could let hot tears build in her eyes. Damn Delia. She’d brought Natalia here for this little humiliation, nothing more. To mock Natalia’s perversions, to put her in the pillory for daring to want something forbidden.

  And damn Ivan Sorvenska’s tattling mouth. He’d ruined Natalia when he’d bleated to his own gossipy mother what Natalia had wanted their marriage to be. Animal lust, Ivan had sneered when Natalia shyly asked on their wedding night if they could share a bed. Is that what you are, Natalia, an animal? Why don’t you hire a Shareem and have done?

  Shareem were males created long ago for the sole purpose of pleasuring women. They lived in the slums of Pax City, and the occasional scandalous woman went to them for carnality. Some said they’d been bred with Dream Catchers, but no one knew for sure. Natalia had never been able to bring herself to seek out a Shareem.

  She’d thought that Ivan the charming, Ivan the handsome, Ivan who’d touched her hand and told her he liked her just as she was, would be amenable to doing what high-born men and women were supposed to shun - lie with each other. That was why she’d rejected the Ministry of Families’ carefully chosen mate and married without their blessing.

  She’d risked all to marry Ivan then discovered too late that he hadn’t wanted a physical marriage after all. He’d charmed Natalia in order to gain access to her money and the Sorvenska family name, which he took upon their marriage. He wore the name like a prize he’d captured. He was disgusted by Natalia’s request, and immediately moved to separate living quarters.

  Natalia could have borne the humiliation of his rejection, but Ivan had repeated all to his mother. Ivan’s mother, who’d never liked Natalia or the Sorvenskas, had spread the tale of her daughter-in-law’s disgusting perversions far and wide.

  Ivan’s mother had urged Ivan to sue for divorce, citing Natalia’s unacceptable predilections. Ivan could make much money from the suit as the wronged party. He’d been in the planning stages when he’d died, falling, drunk, from a balcony. People had looked at Natalia in suspicion, but fortunately Natalia had been at a meditation centre during the incident, and the speculation had to die.

  Natalia had thought her hungers would disappear after her experience with Ivan. But no, her lustful thoughts continued to plague her. She’d glimpsed a Shareem once, when she’d been running an errand in the middle of the city. His physicality had nearly sent her to her knees. He hadn’t even looked at her, but his tightly muscled body and beautiful face had haunted her dreams for months.

  She turned back reluctantly, wanting another glimpse of the Dream Catcher. He was still watching her, his silver gaze pulling her like a magnet. She lowered her veil enough to meet his eyes again.

  Don’t go.

&nbs
p; She stopped, startled, but no one else had heard him. His voice was warm, velvety and sensual, and she wanted to hear it again. Why shouldn’t I? she stammered silently.

  He didn’t respond. But he couldn’t read her mind, could he? Dream Catchers couldn’t read actual thoughts, just fantasies, dreams.

  Dreams they took and made reality. Whatever you wanted. For a little while. You could touch and hold and taste and smell whatever you wanted. Whatever you desired. For a little while.

  Women spent entire fortunes to find Dream Catchers. Some became so enamoured of their dreams that they could not go back to their normal lives. Like a person who could not survive without an excess of wine, these women became addicted to Dream Catchers.

  That does not need to happen, his voice whispered. You do not live on your dreams.

  No kidding, Natalia thought bitterly.

  He chuckled, the sound rough but warm. These women need their rules and their taboos to keep from remembering they are alive. They want to forget. You, Natalia, know you are alive.

  Yes, unfortunately. Natalia’s dreams, her needs, never went away. Maybe she was as disgusting as Ivan thought she was.

  No, the Dream Catcher said. You are beautiful.

  All high-born women were beautiful. They could afford to be. You flatter me.

  Ivan had flattered her before their marriage. Natalia had resigned herself to the fact that he’d used her. Now she preferred to be left alone, far from men with honeyed tongues.

  She had a sudden flash of licking honey off the Dream Catcher’s tongue. The heat of the vision seared her, and she heard his laugh again.

  Yes.

  Natalia jerked her gaze from him, breathing hard. As soon as she looked away, his voice, his presence vanished from her head, and she was simply standing in her best gown amid a crowd of women who did not like her.

  “What did you see?” Delia demanded eagerly.

  Natalia flushed. “Nothing.”

  “Oh, come now. You saw something.”

  Natalia could feel the Dream Catcher’s smile, though his mouth never moved. It gave her a warm, tickly feeling. She couldn’t help but turn to him again. He stood calmly, but the witch rope held him as securely as chains.

  Let me in, he whispered in her mind. I need this as much as you do.

  How do you know what I need? she thought angrily.

  I know.

  Natalia pressed her hands to her hot face. She felt the weight of stares around her, of envy, curiosity, maliciousness.

  These ladies wanted her to experience her deepest fantasies right there in front of them. They wanted to watch her rolling around on the floor, moaning and perhaps doing something embarrassing while they watched and laughed.

  She risked a quick glance around. Dear gods, they did want that. They would make her a laughing stock.

  Well, Mother, you did try to warn me.

  The trouble was, Delia was right. Natalia wanted the Dream Catcher. She wanted his voice in her head again, wanted to hear his deep-throated laugh, wanted him to say her name and tell her she was beautiful. She wanted the fantasies he could give her, wanted him to fulfil her need for passion. He could do this. She could experience it once and let him go.

  But not in front of all these people. She’d die first. Nor could she stalk away in a huff as she’d begun to, letting Delia win. She could hear Delia’s taunting laugh already. She had to bring the power back into her own hands.

  Natalia resorted to the lowest trick she could think of. She’d only done it once before, the night her mother-in-law had started raving in the middle of the theatre about how disappointing Natalia was. She’d gone on and on at the top of her wine-laden lungs about how Natalia should give her money and property to Ivan absolutely and retire to a meditation centre in the desert.

  Natalia’s ruse had worked then like a charm. It was the only time in two years the woman had shut up.

  Natalia let her eyes roll back in her head, let her body grow limp and hoped she landed on something soft. She heard the velvet laughter of the Dream Catcher over the startled gasps of the guests. Ah, sweetling, good choice.

  Ochen watched Lady Delia, the bitch who’d caught him, snap her fingers and order her servants to carry Natalia to a bedchamber. Ochen sensed that Delia wanted to toss Natalia’s body out into the night but knew she could never do such a thing to a high-born woman. Instead she put on the mask of a concerned hostess.

  Liar.

  Natalia was far more honest. And beautiful. She wore a simple gown of brilliant red, uncluttered by ruffles and stones and the strange fripperies the other women wore. The plainness of the gown enhanced her full breasts, her long legs, the soft roundness of her hips.

  Ochen wanted her. He wanted to strip off the sensible clothing and run his hands up and down her blushing body. He wanted to cup her breasts, flick his thumbs across her nipples. He wanted to spread her legs and lick between them, then he wanted to slide his wanting arousal in the place his tongue had wet.

  She was starved for desire. In this sprawling desert city women had suppressed such things, making them taboo. Wives and husbands never touched each other, producing offspring by strange methods involving needles that Ochen’s people didn’t understand and thought barbaric.

  But Natalia had desire in her foremost thoughts. She craved it; she needed it. She’d never been properly loved, had never moaned with passion as she rubbed her body over a man’s.

  Ochen’s nature made him look deep into people’s minds to pull out their fantasies, but rarely did a woman’s mind intrigue him like hers did. The other women here were selfish, bent on their own amusement. Their souls were sticky, like too much sugar candy. The one who had bound him, this Lady Delia, had a weak soul, dark and hungry and stupidly cruel. She hadn’t even braved the wilds to find him, but had sent out men to trap him.

  When he’d looked at Natalia, the small woman with red hair that looped and curled down her back, he’d seen pure, silver light. She had beauty, both outward and inward. The weak Lady Delia hated her because Natalia had what she did not: the ability to feel, the ability to love.

  Two servants carried Natalia away. She never once betrayed the fact that she hadn’t really fainted. He smiled, amused.

  Lady Delia was glaring at him. Ochen dropped his eyes and refused to raise them, refused to interact with her.

  He wouldn’t interact with any other woman in the room either, no matter how much Lady Delia had her hunters beat him. Disappointed, the guests drifted from the ballroom. Lady Delia ordered her men to drag Ochen back down to the tiny room in the cellar and beat him again, just to relieve her feelings.

  Natalia dreamed. She’d kept up the pretence of her fainting fit -the Dream Catcher had been too much for her delicate sensibilities, she’d whispered when her eyes fluttered open. She’d accepted a glass of cold water laced with chamomile and lay down in one of Delia’s spare bedchambers.

  She hadn’t meant to sleep, but she was exhausted. Maintaining her false front at the ball plus the heady invasion of the Dream Catcher had worn her out.

  How pathetic, she thought, but drifted off to sleep anyway.

  “Natalia.”

  He stood at the foot of the bed, his hands free of the witch rope, naked except for the loincloth. His silver eyes were luminescent in the moonlight.

  Natalia gasped and sat up. The Dream Catcher stood still, straight and tall, the embodiment of desire. “What are you doing here? Did Delia release you?”

  “No.”

  She realized that he was speaking with his mouth, out loud. His voice was no longer just in her head.

  Natalia’s eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. “Did she send you up here? Well, you can tell her I’ll have nothing more to do with her games.”

  The Dream Catcher moved around the huge four-poster bed and rested one knee on the mattress. “Delia did not send me. You asked me to come.”

  “Did I?” Natalia raised her brows at him. “Funny, I don’t remember that
.”

  “You asked me with your heart.” He placed his fingertips between her breasts.

  The heart in question banged fast and hard. “You aren’t really here, are you?”

  “I am a Dream Catcher, Natalia.” He slid his hand down her breasts and splayed it across her belly. “Welcome to your dreams.”

  Natalia tried to make herself wake up, but nothing happened. If she were asleep, she remained stubbornly so.

  The Dream Catcher moved his hand across her abdomen, gliding on the silk of her dress. “Don’t send me away, Natalia, not yet.”

  She liked the heat of his hand. “Let me understand. A Dream Catcher is supposed to read my fantasies and let me live them. Make them seem real.”

  “Yes.” His silver eyes warmed.

  “Then why are you here? I am supposed to see my fantasy, not you in person.”

  “You know why.”

  Natalia swallowed, embarrassed by her own thoughts. “Because my fantasies are about you?”

  He lowered himself to the bed, never taking his hand from her waist. “When you looked at me, I saw, deep inside you, what you wanted. I was so pleased, Natalia, that you wanted me.”

  “How mortifying.”

  “It is wonderful. Because when I saw you, I wanted you too.” He stroked his hand through her red hair, loosening it.

  “Is this a dream?” she breathed.

  “In a sense.”

  She felt a bite of disappointment. “So whatever happens, it won’t be real?”

  “It will be real to you. You can do anything you want, and have anything you need, without fear. You can live out your wildest fantasies without coming to any harm, or anyone ever knowing.”

  “Except you.”

  “Except me.” He grinned, a mischievous spark entering his eyes. “And I won’t tell.”

  Natalia drew a breath. She knew what she wanted, but she suddenly realized that if she let herself have it, she’d never be able to go back to her tedious existence, the narrow confines of a woman of the Bor Nargan upper classes. She’d be too aware of what she was missing.