Rapture (Fallen Angels #4)(117)
Author: J.R. Ward

He lifted a hand. “I…ah…yeah, hi…”

As he stuttered, she decided it had finally happened. Instead of getting better, her brain had snapped free of reality completely—

Wait, wait, wait, this had to be a dream.

Right? This was just a dream—she’d fallen asleep on the couch and was imagining that that which she had wanted to happen was actually occurring.

His voice sounded so perfect in her ears: “I know I said I wouldn’t come back, but I thought maybe, now that the story was out, you might see me.”

“You’re dead.”

“No.” He lifted his foot like he was going to walk in, and then stopped. “Can I come in?”

She nodded numbly—because like there was another response?

And in the dream, he was as he had been, tall, harsh faced, intense. He wasn’t limping, though, and his eyes and scars were as they had been just as he had left her.

After that angel had taken them from him.

Matthias leaned back against the jamb. “I was surprised you gave the story to someone else.”

Well, what do you know, her subconscious was up on current affairs. “It was the right thing to do. The safer choice.”

“Yeah, I—”

“I love you.” Now it was his turn to jerk in shock. “Sorry, but I have to tell you. I’m going to wake up from this soon enough, and I’d kick myself if I didn’t actually say it to you once. Even if it’s only in my dreams.”

His eyes shut as if he were absorbing a physical blow.

“I know what the angel did to you,” she explained. “You know, about your sight and things. So I know you didn’t lie to me about that. Or how you felt. And to be honest, that’s the only thing that’s gotten me through this.”

Eventually, his lids rose up. “This isn’t a dream.”

“Of course it is.”

“I’m alive, Mels. I’m here for good.”

“Uh-huh.” What else would he say in her made-up construct of reality? “I just want you to know that I understand why you did what you did, and I’m really glad you came forward with all that stuff about XOps. You did the right thing—wrapped it all up in a good way. So Hell can’t be where you went. Right?”

Matthias came over to her, kneeling down on the bright green Astroturf rug that was supposed to look like a patch of grass in the middle of the flagstone.

“This isn’t a dream.” He reached out with a shaking hand and touched her face. “Trust me.”

“That’s exactly what I would want you to say,” she murmured, grasping his wrist and holding him in place. “Oh, God…”

As she breathed him in, her broken heart hurt so badly that she couldn’t bear the pain—because she knew she was going to come out of this soon, and it would be over, and she would have to go back to a world where she missed him like crazy, where things that should have been said hadn’t been, where what might have been could never be.

Lonely place. Cold place.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her into his chest.

She went willingly and rested against him, hearing a vital heartbeat beneath his sternum. And Matthias began to speak to her, telling her again how it was all real, his voice low and raspy, like he was struggling with his own emotions.

When a cold, wet nose bumped under her arm, she drew back. “Well, hello, little man.”

“I see you’ve met Dog,” Matthias said.

“Is he yours?”

“He’s everyone’s.”

Huh? “He just showed up here. Right before you did.”

“That’s because he cares about you. And…is there any chance you have any food in the house he could eat? I think he’s hungry.”

“Just half my sandwich.”

The little dog curled into a sit and wagged his tail as if he understood every word—and wouldn’t mind taking one for the team and polishing off whatever she’d left uneaten.

On some level, she couldn’t believe they were speaking so nicely and normally about deli meat, but in dreams, weird things happened—

“Oh, hello! Who’s your friend?”

Mels jumped and looked up to the doorway into the kitchen: Her mom was standing there with luggage hanging off her shoulder, a sunburn on her nose, and a smile on her face.

“Mom?”

“I came home a little early.” The bags dropped and her hair was smoothed. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Abruptly, her father’s voice came back to her, telling her she didn’t need to believe in something for it to be real.

Mels’s skin began to prickle from head to foot as she looked back and forth between her mother and her…well, whatever he was.

As an awkward silence sprang up, she took Matthias’s hand and squeezed as hard as she could. Until he went, “Ouch.”

And that was when she knew.

This…was not a dream.

Okay, Matthias had never expected to meet any woman’s parents—and certainly not like this…with the female he loved thinking he was a figment of her imagination, and her mother standing in a doorway like she didn’t know whether to come in again and give it another go—or disappear altogether.

Before things grew even weirder, he shifted Mels out of his arms and got to his feet. Straightening his Hanes T-shirt, he wished he didn’t look like a homeless man, except that’s what he was. Rootless, but clean-shaven, at least.

For the past three weeks, he’d been staying in hotels in the area, keeping an eye on Mels, watching her from a distance to make sure she was okay. And she had been.

Which was not to say there hadn’t been some surprises. All those mornings she’d gone into the newsroom, he’d assumed she was working on the story, but no. After that one trip to Manhattan—and of course he’d followed her down there and segued to raid his secured stash for cash and supplies—she had stuck to home base in more than one sense.

It wasn’t until the story broke the day before that he realized she hadn’t reported it herself.

Somehow, it made him love her even more.

He walked over and stuck his hand out to her mom. “Ah…I’m Matt. A friend of Mels’s.”

Her mother was nothing like her, shorter, more delicate, with salt-and-pepper hair and bright green eyes—but absolutely lovely…and with a brisk handshake that absolutely made him think of the woman’s daughter.

“I’m Helen. I’m so glad to meet you.” And going by the way her eyes were shining, that was the truth. “Are you staying for dinner?”