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couldn't understand the path their son had chosen and the constant

questions they'd pestered Aidan with had eventually driven him away. The Crosses couldn't understand why their only child needed to be working
against
the Nightmares, not repairing the damage they caused after the fact. Since they were the only family Aidan had, that left him with only two bonds
—
Connor and
Sheron
.
    And Sheron had been unworthy of such esteem and affection.
    "Others have been sent to the mortal plane after Cross," Sheron said grimly, both hands clasped tightly around the hilt of his sword. "Powerful Elders. He will require assistance."
    "We're not as out of the loop as you might think," Connor scoffed, circling his adversary with slow, steady steps. "And while you're in a sharing mood, why don't you explain what that thing was in the Temple?"
    Sheron stilled, his sword lowered. "I warned them. I told them the system was untried and unsecured. It was too risky, but they were determined."
    "What are you talking about?" Connor's gaze narrowed on the Elder, his wariness increasing. He'd seen this ruse before, the one where a combatant pretended to lose interest in the fight only to strike with the element of surprise.
    Sheron paused mid-step. "The cavern was our primary means of controlling the flow between the mortal plane and the Twilight, but we knew that such heavy reliance on one location left us too vulnerable. We altered a
room in the Temple of the Elders in an effort to attract Medium slipstreams. It worked, to a lesser extent. But the Temple is not secure from Nightmares."
    "It isn't?" That struck a deep cord of unease in Connor. He had always looked at the shining white edifice of the Temple and felt peace. It was untainted by their enemy and filled with the history of his people in the Hall of Knowledge. While he'd never personally made use of the information there, it had calmed him to think of it.
    "No." Sheron pushed back the sodden shank of pure white hair that fell over his brow. "The Nightmares have grown more desperate. The older ones have learned to stalk their prey, rather than simply attack in a frenzy. Every shadow you see is suspect and only the cavern is safe, though we are not certain why. Something to do with the water, I suspect."
    "Maybe it's too damn cold," Connor suggested, shivering in the gentle breeze. With a wave of his hand, he heated the air around him, forming an insulating pocket. Outside of that immediate space, the velocity of the breeze picked up exponentially and the sky darkened with roiling clouds.
    "We do not know, Bruce. I tried to dissuade the others, but they felt the risk was worth the gain."
    "And what exactly is the risk?"
    Sheron's lips pursed. "That Nightmares will…"
    Thunder cracked and blackness descended in an all-consuming blanket. The Elder screamed and the clouds began to take shape, reconstituting into the familiar form of Nightmares.
    Thousands of them…
     
    Connor awoke in terror.
    He jackknifed upward in the bed, startled by his surroundings, his brain taking a moment too long to register where he was. His heart raced, his skin was coated in sweat.
    The mortal plane. He was in hell.
    His chest heaved with labored breaths as he swung his legs off the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
    Nightmares, the bastards.
    As if the smells of this world weren't bad enough, now he had Nightmares to deal with.
    Disgusted, Connor pushed heavily to his feet and stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He opened the door to the guest room he'd selected after seeing that the other two bedrooms were occupied. One was the master suite, the other smelled like the hottie who had opened the front door to him.
    His mouth curved grimly. At least there was something—
someone
—he liked about this place.
    Stacey was round, ripe, curvy perfection with those full hips, shapely ass, and big tits. She was the kind of woman a man could hang on to and ride