Kendrick’s mate, Eileen, had passed bringing in Zane. Females dying in childbirth was much rarer these days but it still happened.
The problem with being Guardian was that Kendrick had been the one to send her to the Summerland. He’d kissed Eileen’s cold lips, smoothed her hair, and closed his eyes as he’d driven the sword into her chest.
He’d risen and walked away, not opening his eyes until he’d been far from the pile of dust that had been his mate. He’d walked for days, trying to shake off the pain that clung to him like fog.
He never wanted to be in the position to do that again.
Kendrick drifted into a half slumber, his exhausted body forcing him into shutting down.
Addison stood six feet from him on a sunny, flat stretch of ground. She was so real that Kendrick reached for her, but he couldn’t quite touch her. There seemed to be a barrier between then, like a soapy film in the air.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” Addison said. “The boys are fine too, Kendrick. What about you?”
“They like you.” Kendrick reached again, his fingers sinking into the spongy barrier. “I like you.”
“I’m glad.” Addison gave him that sunny smile again. “What is it you want?”
Kendrick narrowed his eyes, confused at the question. Who was he speaking to? Addison in a dream? Coming to him because he knew he needed her? Or someone in her guise?
Kendrick said nothing. He was standing in his underwear, wanting to go to her, enfold her in his arms again, but he couldn’t move.
The barrier broke. Kendrick had been leaning on it, and he stumbled through. Addison turned and ran from him. Kendrick easily overtook her, sun warm on his back, and he caught her in his arms. She was laughing when he kissed her.
Down to the warm grass, her clothes and his underwear melting away until they were body to body. Addison tilted her head back, her face softening as he slid straight into her.
The sensation shot his heartbeat high, his body squeezing in triumph. But it wasn’t enough. Something kept him from feeling it all the way, kept him pumping into her in a desperate quest for it.
This was a dream. It would never, ever be as satisfying as being with the real Addison, and everything within him knew it.
Addison touched his face. “Kendrick, I lo—”
She broke off, and her mouth opened in a sudden scream. The scream was muffled, as though the barrier had descended over both of them again.
Kendrick looked up to see the Shifter, Ivan, whom he’d sent to dust in the diner. The man had an automatic pistol in his hand, great sorrow in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Guardian,” Ivan said. “I failed you.”
Addison was still under him. Kendrick looked down and saw blood on her chest, her eyes vacant, her face gray. She was in her waitress uniform again, scarlet blood on the salmon pink material.
Feral rage rose up inside Kendrick, blotting out every other thought, ever other sensation. He leapt to his feet as Addison shimmered and fell away to dust.
He grabbed Ivan, yanking the pistol from him and breaking it into many pieces. Then he threw Ivan to the ground and spun around to find Addison standing behind him, alive, in the jeans and pretty shirt she’d put on in his hotel room.
“Live your life, Kendrick,” Addison said. “You have so much. Live with every ounce of strength you have. Live it for your sons—for you.”
Kendrick gave her a look of anguish. “This . . . isn’t . . . life.”
Addison cocked her head. “Yes, it is. You’ll figure it out. Look around you, white tiger. Live.”
The dream was ending. Kendrick felt himself swimming toward awareness, reality kicking in.