Chapter 1 #2
I sat up, shoving hair out of my face with shaking hands. My breath came too fast, ragged in the silence of my quarters.
Where was I? What was real?
The dream clung to me, lingering. I could still feel the phantom press of his body, the stretch and burn and fullness. Could still taste him on my tongue.
This was the fifth dream this week. Maybe the sixth. I was losing count.
They were getting worse. Hotter. Harder to shake when I woke.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, but that just made the afterimages sharper. His face. Those silver eyes. The careful way his claws had traced my skin.
My quarters felt too cold after the dream-heat. I grabbed the thin blanket pooled at my feet and wrapped it around my shoulders. It didn't help.
I could still smell him.
Was it real, or just some strange dream-residue? My brain couldn't tell the difference anymore. Smoke and stone and that sharp scent seemed to saturate the air around me.
No. That was impossible. I was alone in my quarters. The door was closed. The smell was just my imagination, my subconscious refusing to let go.
I stood, legs unsteady, and crossed to the small basin in the corner. Cold water from the underground river, piped through Scalvaris's ingenious system. I splashed it on my face, my neck, my wrists. The shock of it helped a little.
It had been one month since the Skalanth, Scalvaris’s sick excuse for a holiday celebration.
Of course it involved warriors and violence.
One month since Nyx had dropped from the shadows and intercepted me and Terra.
One month since I'd put myself between them, ready to sacrifice everything so she could finish.
One month since I'd seen him.
I'd been avoiding him. Careful. Scalvaris was big enough, carved deep into the mountain, endless tunnels and chambers. It wasn't hard to stay away from someone if you tried.
I'd tried.
But my subconscious had other ideas.
The dreams had started a week after the Skalanth. Innocent at first. Just flashes of the fight, my brain processing the ordeal. Normal enough.
Then they'd shifted. The fight would last longer, become more intense. I'd notice details I'd missed in the moment. The way he moved, all violence and precision. The silver of his eyes. The breadth of his shoulders.
Then the dreams had changed again. The fight would blur into something else. A touch that lingered. Eye contact that meant more than it should.
Now this. Full-on explicit fantasies that left me aching and confused and angry at myself when I woke.
I didn't even know him. Hadn't spoken to him beyond those few desperate words during the trial. He was just another Drakarn warrior, another member of the Blade Council, another obstacle I'd had to overcome.
So why couldn't I stop dreaming about him?
I paced the small space of my quarters, trying to burn off the restless energy.
My rock collection sat on the narrow shelf carved into the wall.
I used to have a collection on Earth and had sadly left it behind when I decided to leave on the Nostos.
All that was left of my collection from home was a piece of purple quartz from my first duty station, a perfect circle of shale I'd found in a river, and the first rock I'd ever collected—an unassuming gray thing I'd picked up outside as a kid.
I would have lost them too if I hadn't been wearing the collection in a pouch around my throat when we crashed.
I'd started collecting Volcaryth stones now. A piece of red desert glass, smooth and warm. A chunk of volcanic rock from near the lava flows. A palm-sized river stone, worn smooth by the underground current.
I picked up the river stone, turned it over in my hand. The weight and texture grounded me, pulled me back into my body and out of the dream-space.
I had to face him eventually. Scalvaris wasn't that big. The training grounds, the Council chambers, the communal areas. Our paths would cross.
How the hell was I supposed to look at him knowing what my subconscious wanted to do to him?
Wanted him to do to me.
I set the stone down harder than necessary. It clicked against the shelf.
This was ridiculous. I was a demolitions expert, a trained soldier. I'd faced enemy fire, disarmed explosives with seconds on the clock, survived a crash landing on an alien planet. I'd endured the Skalanth, fought my way through Scalvaris's most brutal trial.
I could handle some inconvenient dreams about a warrior I barely knew.
Except they felt like so much more than just dreams. My body knew the difference. The ache between my legs, the phantom sensation of his touch, the way my pulse kicked up just thinking about him.
Something was happening. Something I didn't understand and couldn't control.
I hated not being in control.
I needed to do something. Channel this restless energy into something useful. The training grounds would be empty this early. I could run drills, practice with my blade, exhaust myself enough that maybe tonight I'd sleep without dreams.