Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2) by Su Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

remember.” He looked away. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I should never have…” His words choked off into silence and he looked imploringly at Sabre.
                  Sabre snorted, but turned me to face him. “Emari,” he paused as he grazed his finger down my cheek. “I need you to trust me. I need you to trust Nick.” He nodded toward the other man. “He won’t hurt you, I promise. He has something very important and very special to give to you. Can you—will you trust me?”
                  Trust you? The turmoil of opposing emotions tattered my heart, made me tired and yearn again for my home. I nodded and turned to face this other man, this Nick, that I didn’t know at all but somehow, I did know him. His hand extended toward me.
                  “You were there.” I was having a Wizard of Oz moment. “You were the man at my shows.”
                  “Yes,” he said and gave me an encouraging smile that sparked something warm and familiar in my chest. “Please?” His fingers twitched a come-hither motion. “What did you return to her?” he ask of Sabre, but his eyes were cemented to mine.
                  “Very little,” Sabre rumbled. “She mostly drifted.” Drifted—that word was familiar too, in a foggy, distant sort of way.
                  I shuffled forward, the bricks of uncertainty weighing down my feet. As I raised my hand to take the one presented to me, invisible sparks of electricity arced from his fingertips to mine. A surge of warmth shot up my arm; my nerves prickled like thawing flesh. Finally, the heat of skin to skin contact dulled the ache and immersed me in comfort. My fear evanesced, and memories of who I once was, who I truly was, coalesced in my mind. My life felt like a puzzle, mostly completed with pieces missing in a jumbled mess. Recollections I had forgotten—been made to forget—plunged into my mind. Their ferocity snowed me under like a January blizzard. This enigma that had caused me so much confusion and grief, fell together; the blank pieces developed into pictures and dropped into their places of their own accord.
                  I gazed up into his eyes. “Nick?” His name, a strangled sound, quiet and desperate; as much breath as word.
                  “Yes.”
                  “I remember.”
                  “Emi.”
                  My throat suddenly slammed shut and every memory of him came raging back to me at once, as though a dam had breached; its waters spilling ravenously into the thirsty reservoir below. The flood of images overwhelmed me. Nick was my angel, my aegis, my protector. He chased away the nightmares after the crash that killed my parents. And again after the rape. He—and Sabre—were Caphar, Dream Weavers; an ancient race of immortals with the power to command memories and dreams.
                  My heart clenched with emotion and squeezed tears to my eyes. Impulse, pure instinct tore at me to throw myself into his strong arms, let them enfold me. Anguish swirled and radiated from my chest, pulsing through my brain. You promised! I loved this man. Nick. My heart had entangled itself with his. He promised he would never leave me—my greatest fear since the death of parents, last year. You promised! But he did. He left me, all alone, with not even the memory of him to comfort me or break my heart. A savage heat pressed through me as memory built upon memory to reveal the truth.
                  My Irish ancestry flared, red and hot like the spikes of my hair. I pulled away, cocked back my arm, balled my fist—and slammed it, with a satisfying crunch—right into Nick’s nose.
                  “You sonofabitch!” I screamed. Electricity stormed around me, binding my arms to my sides. “Let me go!” I struggled against the vice of Sabre’s arms. I