Read Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5) for Free Online Page B

surprisingly pain free—no soreness from all the heat and smoke.
    Mick turned. His eyes were brilliant blue, his dragon tatts calm, his smile lighting up the room. “Hey, baby. Ready for breakfast? We had a long ride yesterday.”
    We had? I stared back at him, part of me liking the way he let his gaze flick to my body outlined by the sheet. “Where are we?” I put a shaking hand to my face, pleased to find my skin unburned and smooth.
    “South Dakota,” Mick said. “East of Rapid City. You were so tired last night, you nearly fell off. I carried you in here and let you sleep.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and touched my face with his big hand. “Ready to wake up now?”

Chapter Five
    Mick’s touch warmed and calmed me, but my mind reeled in disorientation.  
    “South Dakota?” I repeated. “What the hell happened? Is Gabrielle all right? Did Nash make it? Was John really a demon? What about Monica? I saw Emmett—I swear I did before I passed out. Tell me he didn’t get my mirror shard …” I tried to scramble out of bed. I needed to find my jeans and make sure the pocket still held the bag with its sliver of magic mirror.
    A strong hand pushed me back down. “Janet.” Mick’s brows drew together. “Take it easy. You were dreaming.”
    I fell against the pillow, confused and shaken. “What?”
    “You were crying out in your sleep, thrashing around.”
    Mick brushed my cheek, and I immediately calmed. I knew that the tingle I felt was his magic, soothing me, trying to heal my hurts.
    “I don’t blame me,” I said. “It was a hell of a fight, which we obviously survived. But why did you bring me to South Dakota ? Did we fly up here? I need to get back to my hotel.”
    Again, I tried to rise, and again, Mick caught me. He framed my face in his hands and looked deep into my eyes.
    More magic? Mick couldn’t read minds, but he could sense when something was wrong with a person—for example, if his girlfriend had been smacked with a serious spell.
    “No airports nearby,” he said. “Easier to ride. And this motel is better than the last one.”
    I’d meant fly as in him scooping me up and carrying me off in his dragon talon. Plus, what did he mean this motel is better than the last one ? I opened my mouth to question, but closed it again. Mick was contemplating me not only in worry but with suspicion, as though he thought maybe I wasn’t really me.
    Something was very wrong.
    I tried to relax, be neutral, look back at him without tension as he scrutinized me. I don’t know whether he was satisfied, but Mick at last released me and straightened up.
    “I guess the sleep did you good,” he concluded. “Come on, let’s go to breakfast. The sign says they have a hundred different kinds of omelets. I have to check that out.”
    He flashed me a smile, good-natured, holding a hint of sin. And yet, holding back at the same time.  
    Mick hadn’t held back much lately, with all we’d been through, but I saw in his eyes a layer of his old evasiveness. Back when he hadn’t wanted me to realize what he was, he’d been very good at not letting me see past his facade. I needed to pin him down and ask him what was up.
    For now, I was hungry, and the thought of omelets made my stomach growl. I scrambled out of bed, not shy around Mick, and found my clothes, neatly folded over the back of the room’s one chair.
    Mick must have undressed me. Whenever I went to bed in exhaustion I threw my clothes every which way before I dove between the sheets. Mick was far more tidy.
    “Why did you bring these ?” I asked. The jeans were old, the shirt one I hadn’t worn in years. “I thought I gave these to Gabrielle. Or, rather, she helped herself.”
    Mick’s eyes narrowed again, his grave suspicion returning.
    As much as I loved Mick, I was not blind to how dangerous he was. If he thought I was acting weird, maybe a doppelgänger Janet or a spelled Janet, he would stop at nothing to save me, fix me—or