Dreams of Emerald: Dawnchild, #2

By Evelyn Shine

From her dreams to reality…

Since they met in Paris, sensuous Durant Lemaitre haunts Evayne's restless nights. During their encounter, every covert glance and lingering touch spoke of his love for her. Now, in torrid dreams, she belongs to him, body and soul.

Only Durant remembers all the other timelines he and Evayne shared with their lover, Enzo. To avert catastrophe, he sent Evayne back to her own time. The agony of knowing that she and Enzo don't remember the passion they shared tears him apart. But when Enzo is driven mad by dreams of Evayne, a woman he believes he's never met, Durant is determined to timewalk again and bring her back.

The three of them plunge into a life of intense sensuality and blood bonds. However, keeping Evayne safe may prove impossible as she sets out to reform a corrupt Immortal society, taking too many risks. Can Evayne stay with the men she loves by flexing her newfound power as one of the rare Dawnchildren? Find out in this steamy, polyamorous paranormal romance.

"Two immortal men travel through time to find and reunite with their human lover. This passionate story of a woman coming into her own powers and the men who love her will thrill readers who like their romances paranormal and steamy." Brittany M., Proofreader, Red Adept Editing

"Durant and Lorenzo, a pair of Immortals, have found and lost their lifemate, Evayne, in too many timelines, but they are determined to hold on to her in this one. When the three are finally together in the Château des Merveilles, they share a sensual, unbreakable connection. To shore up Evayne's strength and ensure that they don't lose her to dark forces, Durant creates a blood bond with her, making her a Dawnchild—a rare creature with Immortal-like abilities. But Evayne turns out to be more powerful than anyone expected." Sarah C., Line Editor, Red Adept Editing

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Shine
• Release date: Apr 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224534470

Evelyn Shine

Kidnapped by fairies at birth, Evelyn Shine has a head stuffed full of myths and steamy stories just waiting to spill out. When she isn’t being teased by her indulgent husband, Evelyn can be found writing, reading, or playing with her Australian cattle dogs. Join the mailing list for updates at www.evelynshine.com

Book preview

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one

Durant stepped out of the time portal, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. He dragged his fingers along the carved wooden door leading into a temple, while observing the patches of snow and ice scattered on the rocky, barren ground. Gazing over the cliff before him, Durant noted a mountain range kissed by a velvety twilight sky. Stone steps meandered upward, and he saw a figure wrapped in a carmine cloak sitting on the ledge above.

Durant ran a hand through his hair as he moved toward the stairs. If this was where the portal had taken him this month, then it was where he needed to be. He doubted he would find his lover Evayne on a mountaintop in what appeared to be Tibet, but maybe he would find some answers. He ascended the twisting stone steps.

Things were different this time. He remembered everything. At first, it was hard to keep timelines straight. Reality seemed warped, like a tangled ball of yarn. Durant wasn’t sure what was real and what was fantasy, what had happened and what was a dream. He struggled for the entire month with all the distinct possibilities that resided in his mind. Briefly, he felt like he was going mad. But then, with much meditation, it all sorted itself out.

The Immortal could recall every magical first time he’d met Evayne at the café. Her cherry-blossom scent was as elusive as a half-remembered dream. His fingers recalled how soft and warm her skin was as he fastened her found bracelet to her wrist. Her sunny smile lit up just a little more when he flirted with her. The green of her eyes charmed him, along with the subtle blush of her cheeks. Every time he met her for the first time, Evayne’s presence enchanted him from the very start. He was charmed enough by her that he compelled her to follow him back to his time, 1898, if she desired his company.

From that starting point, many branches happened. Durant’s ancient mind now remembered them all, almost as if each one had occurred in one timeline, all overlapping. In some, she went home, never having had a relationship with him or Enzo. Other times, she died, killed the first night by pickpockets on the streets of Paris, by Vasquez in his garden, by Alessandra, or by Agustin. In some, she made it back through the portal, and he met her again in the twenty-first century. But by then, the Family had broken Enzo, and that was a whole different tragedy. He tried not to dwell on her deaths. The thought of them pulled up a darkness in him that raged and danced dangerously on the edge of madness.

But this last time had been magical. Evayne had held his heart in her hands. He’d felt the brush of her soul combining with his and the peace that had brought with it. Durant sighed, trying to hold on to even the ghost of that feeling.

Intermingled with his memories were glimpses of the world—the ebb and flow, the nuance. Evayne’s existence seemed to affect everything, and the larger scale was so much more terrifying. What happened in the balance of the world hinged on what happened to her. Every time she died, eventually, an apocalyptic Immortal takeover resulted in mass war and death in the future. On the strands of time that she lived in, the balance stayed the same for the most part. It was apparent to him he had to find that line between keeping her and maintaining the balance.

He flexed his fingers in his pocket, remembering the feel of her mahogany hair. One thing he was certain of—in every instance, he’d loved her from the start. Even when he foolishly kept his distance.

He reached the apex and took a seat next to the cryptic-looking monk.

Traveler, you’re early this time. The monk glanced at him then resumed his gaze out over the barren mountains. His clothing moved in the breeze, chill fingers plucking at the woolen garments. The man didn’t seem to feel the cold. Is he human? Durant listened briefly for a heartbeat but heard none. This place had an odd feeling, like it was outside time.

You’ve seen me before? Durant mimicked the monk, switching to the local language and dialect. He folded his hands inside his coat against his stomach to keep them warm. The wind cut through him, and while cold didn’t affect his body, Durant wasn’t much enamored with the sensation.

Many times, but this time, you’re different. The monk turned to study him. The man’s head was clean-shaven, and he had dark wide-set eyes in a tanned face of undetermined age. He could have been forty or one hundred forty. He wore red robes with a heavy carmine cloak edged in a wide saffron border. You drank the dawn. Do you remember now?

Durant tilted his head, shuffling through all the possibilities he’d lived through to that point. He vaguely recalled seeing this place before, but the monk was right—this was the first time in any of the possibilities that Evayne had offered her blood. Durant had never presumed to ask her. It wasn’t until she offered herself to him like the most cherished of gifts that he’d allowed himself a taste.

He could almost hear the whisper of Enzo’s voice. Offered? You do remember she kissed you hard enough to recklessly slice her lip open so you’d taste her?

How is she different? Why is it that her blood made me remember this repetition of events?

The monk smiled, but it didn’t reach his dark eyes. Your kind, always so conceited, thinking you’re the finest creation, the most unflawed. You know as well as any that the gift of immortality is also a curse.

That doesn’t answer my question.

There’s a balance in everything. Even when the world becomes unbalanced, it will seek to right itself again. She’s the balance.

But she died. Durant’s cool exterior cracked a little. He couldn’t keep the tremble from his voice. He saw Evayne smashed on the rocks again, in their lover’s arms, her blood spilled. He saw the blood on Enzo, the hopeless devastation in the Guardian’s eyes, the guilt that he couldn’t save her. His oldest friend had shattered that day.

And you fixed that, didn’t you? But did you fix it the correct way? The monk looked back out to the sky, and a moment of solitude settled between them while Durant puzzled out his words.

How can Evayne be the balance when she almost always dies? When she lives, she’s alone and sad. Durant fisted his hands inside his coat, his nails digging into his frigid skin.

When you balance something, it’s never one-sided. She’s never been complete, but you came the closest this time.

Durant sat in the wind and the cold, contemplating this. When I walked through time, I saw a possibility that she was alive and still with us. We were happy, he whispered.

It was a long time before the monk responded. Durant thought the winds had stolen his words. And was she Whole? The Dawnchild?

She was alive… Durant had held her while she died so many times. This was the first time her ghost was left in his heart.

Traveler, this does not answer my question. For her to be the balance, she has to be Whole.

Durant frowned. I’m uncertain what you mean. He continued to parse memories of what could have been.

The greatest flaw in creating your kind was the loss of humanity.

I wouldn’t say I’ve lost my humanity, Durant said defensively. He looked away, crossing his arms tighter against his chest.

But have you always had it?

Durant studied the man. No.

And how did you feel when she was with you?

An explosion of emotions drew his thoughts inward as he remembered every moment spent in her presence. At peace, he whispered. Content.

Her kind are the bridge between mortal and Immortal. When Whole, they keep the balance. That’s what you need to seek.

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Evayne woke in the middle of a climax for the fourth night in a row. The apex of her thighs was slick and throbbed and her limbs tangled wildly in the bedsheets. She was disappointingly alone.

Panting, Evayne closed her eyes, trying to recapture the dream. It was the man with the beautiful amber eyes whom she’d met in Paris, the one she’d spent two weeks hoping to see again while on vacation but never did. In her dream, he made love to her, possessed her, filled her in a way that left her complete and not wanting. It all felt so real. She could still feel him pressing into her and the way his voice tickled her senses, sending a pleasurable shiver through her as he touched her so intimately.

Glancing at the clock, she growled in frustration. Two in the morning… again. This has to stop. What the hell is wrong with me?

Evayne got up and went to shower off, padding silently across the cool wood floor. She didn’t bother flipping a light on until she reached the bathroom. The small house was familiar enough that she knew every inch of it.

Standing outside the shower, she tied her hair up in a messy bun then rested her forehead on the cool tile while the water heated. Her eyes slid closed. Evayne remembered how he’d looked at her in Paris when he thought she didn’t notice. Durant already loved her. There was a strange sadness in his gaze, a longing. She enjoyed his company so much it felt awkward to inquire about it. He tried so hard to keep his gentlemanly mask in place. But when it slipped, she could see behind it to the unexplained intimate expression. Like he knew her… like they’d been lovers.

Or perhaps I remind him of someone he knew. Steam rose from the water, and she stepped in to wash off. Maybe it’s my imagination. I’ve been alone for too long, she thought as she lathered up.

Evayne had spent her entire trip hoping that he’d come to her hotel and she’d come back from sightseeing one day to find him sitting by the fountain, waiting for her. She’d scan cafés as she walked by, hoping to see him. But it never happened. All she’d had was one perfect afternoon with the mysterious golden man.

The faucet shrieked as she turned the water off, and Evayne stepped out to towel dry. She grabbed a thick robe off the hook and headed to the small kitchen to brew some tea. She knew how this was going to go. Evayne waited for the water to boil then dropped a tea bag into her cup and added the steaming liquid. She leaned against the counter, closing her eyes while it steeped. A spicy clove smell tickled her nose.

My sweet Evie. He kissed her passionately, backing her against the shelves in a beautiful library. The spicy scent of cloves, leather, and old books surrounded them. Eyes of burnished gold brimmed with affection for her. Evayne twined her fingers in his long ash-brown hair. Effortlessly, he lifted her, carrying her to the couch to slowly make love to her.

Evayne snapped awake, shaking her head to clear it. The second man always appeared in her dreams. She didn’t know his name, but somehow, her mind connected him to Durant. Evayne sighed. In her dreams, she felt the kind of intense, passionate, all-consuming love she’d always wished for. The dark-haired stranger’s laughter made her smile in her fantasies. He was a bit of a joker, and she adored him all the more for it.

Evayne rubbed her eyes then added a little cream to her chai tea and had a seat at the table. Opening her laptop, she saw that her inbox was full of mail from both the foundation and colleagues from the lab. Groaning at the mundaneness of it all, she pushed her thumb against the bridge of her nose. Might as well get these emails answered. No rest for the wicked.

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The truth was, Lorenzo believed he’d gone mad.

A month before, he’d asked Durant for a studio room in the château. He had these dreams, these visions, and he needed to get them out of his head and onto a canvas. The next day, Durant gave him the keys to a large room with north-facing windows that had been thoughtfully prefilled with any supplies he might need. Lorenzo hadn’t left the studio for more than a few minutes since then or allowed anyone into it. Decanters of blood were placed outside the door. He left notes on the trays for Basil, requesting alcohol and smokes. Durant would knock then leave when Lorenzo didn’t answer. Lorenzo heard Perry’s concerned voice a few times before she gave up.

He took to sleeping on the floor, wrapped in his coat, then finally dragged the couch from the library into the studio. He hadn’t washed in over a week. Or has it been two? He wasn’t sure when he changed his clothes last, and he didn’t care.

A month of paintings, oils, sketches, silverpoint, charcoals, and ink drawings were scattered and pinned to walls. Canvasses were everywhere, some the size of his hand, others as tall as he was.

But the subject matter was the same: the green-eyed girl with the curly mahogany hair. Her pale flesh was covered in a constellation of freckles as if the stars had fallen from the sky to grace her skin. She haunted his dreams—her laughter, her voice, her scent. Lorenzo didn’t know her name. He’d never met her.

He’d consumed immense quantities of alcohol, hoping to drown the visions from his sleep. He’d been mostly drunk for the past week. Still, her passionate gaze burned his soul every time he closed his eyes.

Lorenzo stared at the latest canvas. It was as tall as he and twice as long. She reclined nude on white sheets, a collar of pearl and emeralds on her throat and matching bracelets on her wrists. Her long, unbound hair fell in magnificent waves, framing her voluptuous curves. The look in her eyes was affection with a touch of mischief. He wished she could step out of the painting to him, and he longed for her in ways he couldn’t explain.

Lorenzo took a deep pull from a bottle of wine and closed his eyes. They were making love in a field overlooking Paris. The sunlight was warm, turning her hair to copper. She smelled of spring, and he loved her—to the depths of his soul, he loved her. Tears ran down his cheeks for something lost that he’d never had.

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two

Durant closed his eyes, submerging himself in the baths with a long sigh. He let the steaming hot water burn out the ice of the Tibetan mountains.

She has to be Whole. If that doesn’t mean alive, what does it mean? He frowned, biting his lip as his thoughts drifted.

His bond with her had faded after he passed back through the portal. But the taste of Evayne had left his memory intact this time. He still remembered that ragged hole in his heart when she’d died. His soul had burned and stabbed. If he had to endure that for an eternity as an Immortal, he would rather disappear into the long sleep. If that was half a bond, though, what would a full bond do? Did the monk mean for me to create her? That was the potential future he’d seen—that if she was offered a taste of immortality, she would be strong enough to withstand staying.

At least he’d been able to keep the Family from chasing down Enzo for a bit. The offers of marriage still came daily, but Durant had picked five of the prospective brides and started writing courting letters in Enzo’s name. He was certain Enzo would be furious later, but if it delayed him from having to be a stud in Agustin’s stable, Durant would take the heat. He wasn’t entirely sure what Agustin was planning, but it seemed to involve the children of Immortals.

He frowned. Enzo was another matter. He shouldn’t have remembered anything. The timeslip had been closed when he intercepted Evayne at the café, so she’d never come through the portal. Yet Enzo had acted strangely for the last month. Restless and moody, he’d sequestered himself in his studio. No one had seen him except the butler, Basil, when Enzo requested alcohol and smokes. It was unlike him to not go into town once a week to help the locals. Durant needed to speak to him, which was difficult when Enzo wouldn’t answer the door. Perhaps it was time to use the master key.

Durant drummed his fingers on the marble edge of the bath then pushed himself away from the seat, allowing his lithe body to float. His gaze lifted to the skylight, following the dance of steam rising to form wispy clouds against the starlit sky beyond the glass rooftop. Remembering all the different timelines at once was still a struggle. He’d taken them out and dismantled them mentally, picking them apart for what worked and what didn’t. Each memory was coated in the dark of what he really was. That part of him, he’d no desire to remember.

He hadn’t lasted through the ages by letting himself be weighed down by his past sins. No, he’d tied those memories up in a neat bundle and conveniently forced himself to forget. It was easier to enjoy life in the moment—to not remember his brother or be crushed by the darker part of his soul. That was why he’d lived a life of hedonistic frivolity until Evayne.

Dipping his head under the water, Durant let the silence surround him, smothering those thoughts and hiding everything away, back into the depths of his ancient soul. He lifted his gaze again to the midnight velvet sky beyond the arched glass.

He wondered if his lost love was looking at the same stars over a hundred years in the future.

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This was… a godawful idea.

Evayne drove toward her home from the foundation offices after signing off on some paperwork. She’d been made the sole heir to the foundation after her mother’s death. It had a board of trustees and ran itself for the most part, but sometimes, she had to show up and sign the final paperwork. She felt like her mom would want it to keep going.

The large charity gala was in two weeks, the fifth anniversary of her mother’s death, and Evayne had never felt more alone. She drove through the island’s tourist side and stopped at the bar. She planned to have a drink or two. Maybe getting laid will solve these late-night wet dreams. Perhaps I should actually date someone.

She blew a stray lock of hair off her forehead as she flicked her finger against the cardboard coaster under her drink. Who am I kidding?

She hadn’t had a serious relationship in years. All of her adult relationships had been casually brief. She never had time to date, let alone meet a suitable partner. Evayne had been in school for what felt like eons until her PhD was complete, then she’d made a slow crawl to the head position at the lab. Her career hadn’t left her much time for or interest in dating beyond casual encounters. After her mother died, she felt lost and just wandered the world for over a year. She had some fun and met new people but only for a brief time, and then she left—no strings attached. She’d never had a problem saying goodbye until now. Those beautiful amber eyes.

Taking another sip of her beer, Evayne tried to wash down the lonely feelings. What the hell happened that afternoon in Paris? She hadn’t even slept with Durant, but she couldn’t get him out of her head. She blew out a sigh.

She was in a crowded bar on a Friday night, looking for… what? An image of amber and gold eyes flashed through her thoughts. She shook her head. No, she was in there to clear out those dreams.

A familiar smell, like sweet tobacco and cloves, tickled her nose. She turned, and the attractive man next to her caught her eye and smiled. Black hair, light-blue eyes… disappointment filled her. Why am I expecting someone else?

Hi, can I buy you a drink? he asked, sliding onto the stool next to hers.

She smiled back, lifting her almost full bottle. I think I’m good, thanks.

She looked away, mentally chiding herself. Ugh, this was a terrible idea. The last thing she needed was a one-night stand this close to home. At least, when she traveled, there were no awkward meetings later. How could I think it’d be him? Wait… him who? Those golden eyes came to mind again, her fingers in ashy-brown hair, his self-assured smile…

Little girl. He called her that in dreams. With anyone else, she would find the pet name incredibly offensive, demeaning even. But he made it an endearment, spoken with so much affection that it made her melt. She remembered the scent of his tobacco, but it was sweet and spicy. The aroma that clung to him was more like incense than cigarettes.

She felt a brush against her arm. The stranger leaned in close to get her attention. Hey, I’ve got a bike. Do you want to get out of here? It’s a really pleasant ride along the coast at this time of night.

She could do this—just go get it out of her system. The sweet clove smell enveloped her, and she saw the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket. Evayne closed her eyes and breathed in. In the dream, she was draped in his coat, and it was snowing as he held her close. The wind teased his long brown hair against her cheek. My sweet Evie. Longing stabbed through her heart for a man she didn’t know—a figment of her imagination.

Evayne shook her head. No, sorry. I appreciate the offer. I’m expected home soon. The lie came easily. She slipped some cash onto the bar and signaled the bartender. You have a nice night.

She stepped outside, looking over the sand dunes across the street. Stars twinkled coldly in the night