Flashback

by Dawn Carter

  Wickedpublishing.net

  Flashback

  ©2016 Dawn Carter

  www.dawncarterbooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-

  Published by

  Wicked Publishing

  Amarillo, TX USA

  www.wickedpublishing.net

  First Edition: 2016

  Wicked Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editing: Ashen White

  Cover Design:Shiralyn Lee

  Dawn Carter stories are downloadable on reputable sites. If for any reason you are reading this for free from a non-reputable site, then you are viewing an illegal download. Please refrain from doing so.

  Contact information:

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Dawn.Carter.Author

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/lucidreamer28

  Website: www.dawncarterbooks.com

  Wicked Publishing email: wickedpublishingllc@gmail.com

  Wicked Publishing website: www.wickedpublishing.net

  Synopsis

  Experiencing a reoccurring dream, Spencer Avery, a rational thinker, questions whether love can transcend the test of time. Constantly plagued by the vision of the same woman, someone who seems so real, she finds herself falling in love with her. With her heart ruling her head, Spencer sets out to find answers, and what she discovers when she travels across the Pacific Ocean will change her life forever.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  About the author

  Chapter 1

  Light flashed, brilliant and blinding, fading and swirling about, like glowing dust motes on a soft summer breeze. Spencer held a hand up to her eyes, squinting, as she tried to see beyond the glow. As the light dissipated, an image of a woman stood before her, still bathed in moonlight. She seemed so real—so touchable. Spencer knew she was dreaming; the same dream had haunted her sleep many times over the past five years.

  The luminous, blackish-blue eyes stared at her, capturing every glint of starlight from above. Spencer lowered her trembling hand. The face that owned those eyes was coppery, like the cliffs at sunrise, cheekbones high, lips full and slightly curved. There was something sad, yet happy, in her look. A jeweled cap adorned her head, and her clothing glowed the same luminous white as her headdress, and she wore a silver pectoral emblazoned with a crescent moon, and earrings bearing the same symbol. With both hands she held a strange, ornate staff in front of her, holding it low, while her fingernails dug into the back of its soft, freckled skin, as if seeking strength from it.

  The two women stared at each other across the clearing, neither saying anything. The woman’s eyes in Spencer’s dream stayed focused on her for the longest time. Eventually, her gaze wandered down slightly, then back up again to take her in. Spencer’s own eyes finally lowered. She could sense the woman’s hesitation as the slender fingers grasped the staff tightly, showing her white knuckles. The woman said nothing to her, though Spencer knew what she was thinking; she could hear the thoughts calling into her mind. “Any time you wish to kiss me, Yiara, you can.”

  “Tell me your name,” Spencer cried out, wanting to know— no, needing to know.

  “You know my name, Yiara. Dig deep into your memory, I am there. I have always been there.” The familiar yet strange woman’s voice was calm, never wavering, as it filled the space between them.

  Spencer licked her dry lips. The desire to flee overwhelmed her, yet she took a step forward, then froze and blinked in surprise when her dream woman closed the distance between them.

  “Remember, Yiara,” the woman soothed, clinging to the silver staff, her gaze wandering lower, the tip of her tongue moistening her lips.

  Spencer felt suspended in an emotional time warp. She instantly felt filled with a love that she had never felt in this lifetime. She would finally have a name to go with the beautiful face. Even though she was apprehensive, she still stepped forward.

  A slight chill ran down her arms as the woman held her head high and strode around her with a posture befitting a goddess, stopping several inches away. They stared at each other, their eyes connecting at the same height, even though Spencer had the edge of being taller. She said nothing, but she could still hear the woman’s thoughts telling her to never leave her again. There was a history between them, a passion beyond her memory—beyond her reach. It didn’t scare her; in fact, quite the opposite. A drive to get to the bottom of it burned in her veins.

  Wrinkling her brow, Spencer searched the eyes for answers. “For as long as I can remember, you have been a part of me. Who are you?”

  There was a long pause before answering. “I am Anai, Yiara. I am your past, your heart, and it is time for you to bring me into the present.” Anai reached out a hand, her nails glinting in the light.

  Spencer held her breath when delicate fingers lightly touched her face. The feel of Anai’s touch when she stroked her cheek was both cool and warm. The same as the caressing light she’d felt moments before. She glanced up from the corner of her eyes at Anai for several moments, as if trying to determine if she could actually be real. “This is just a dream, not real. My name is Spencer; I’m not this woman you keep referring to.”

  Anai tilted her head, her dark, luminous eyes blinking at Spencer with mild confusion, as if asking her why she was denying her.

  Anai touched Spencer’s cheek again, her fingers remaining this time. The warmth of her hand felt so good, so familiar, and it confused Spencer. How can this be a dream? My heart knows her. One way to find out, she mused. It’s time this get’s real. Spencer leaned forward, shut her eyes, and, for the first time since the dreams started, she pressed their mouths firmly together. Even though her heart raced, she wasn't afraid. The breath that mingled with her own felt like home. Everything Spencer had previously worried about melted away as Anai’s hand took hers and kissed her back.

  Spencer’s heart soared as if the moonlight had lifted her up, giving her feet wings. Suddenly, the embrace ended, and like a movie shifting scenes, two young girls appeared before her and Anai, playing, laughing, and running. It was the same two girls from her childhood dreams. It was starting to make sense—the two young girls were her and Anai in their youth.

  The two women held hands while watching the two smiling girls play. “We were young and innocent then, my Queen,” Anai said.

  “Why did you call me that?” She could see Anai speaking, but all she heard was a loud blaring noise that filled her ears, pulling her back. She fought to hold on, extending her hand to reach out for Anai, but she drifted from her grasp and faded back into the light. “No, don’t go,” Spencer cried out. She had never got this far into her dream before, and she had so many questions.

  Crying and unable to breathe, Spencer coughed as she sat forward, her e
yes still closed.

  “When I count to three, you will open your eyes and remember everything.”

  It was at this point that Spencer woke from her dream state, but this time, it was different—it continued past what she had dreamt before. Her eyes fluttered open, tears spilling over the brims in streams, staining her cheeks. “Why did you pull me out, I was so close?”

  Dream therapist Patrick O’Connor looked to the pad in his hand for several moments, then finally said, “Tell me what you remember.”

  Emotionally exhausted, Spencer turned her face to the wall, determined to conceal her distress. “Do you believe in reincarnation?” Spencer didn’t have a clue how to explain what had just happened. She was confused, but everything made sense. Anai was more than a dream, she was her heart, and Spencer loved her.

  “I don’t discount it, but I have no data to support it.”

  For several moments, the words evaded her thoughts. Spencer furrowed her brow as she recalled the series of dreams she’d had. “Patrick, I think the dreams I’m having are not dreams at all. I think they’re memories. My memories from long ago.”

  “Tell me why you believe that, Spencer.”

  “The woman told me so. She said she is part of my past, and each lifetime, I’ve denied it.” Finding the pulse point in her wrist, she pinched down hard, a technique she had learned when trying to focus her thoughts. “It’s more than that. I know I know her. I feel it in my heart.”

  Clamping his lips together, he tapped the pen on the pad. “If this is a past life memory, Spencer, it could take years to uncover who you were. Are you prepared for the time it will take to uncover your memories?”

  Holding her hand in the air, she stood up and took several steps to the window, turned around, replaying the events in her mind. “My name was Yiara, her name was Anai. From the clothes we wore then, it was during ancient Egyptian times. I have enough information to help me find out the rest.”

  Patrick stood to join her, but before he could extend his hand, Spencer wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled several inches back to face him. “Same time next week then?” She tried not to laugh when he lowered his eyes, hiding his blush.

  “Yes, see you then.”

  ●●●

  Later that evening, Spencer sat on the edge of the three-foot window ledge in her bedroom overlooking the city. Pen in hand, she tried to make sense of the transgression therapy session, but as much as she understood what had been happening, the more confused she became.

  Dear Diary,

  During therapy today, I found out my name from my dreams. I am Yiara, and the woman is the girl Anai from my dreams when I was a kid. It has been three months since I started the therapy, and we’re finally progressing. I just wish it would all come at once. We’re making progress, but I feel as if something keeps blocking my memories.

  Patrick thinks I am fighting them, but I don’t think so. I have never been with a woman as beautiful as Anai, the woman who haunts my dreams. Why would I want to block her? She has consumed my thoughts for years. I can’t get enough of her dark eyes. They’re deep and inviting.

  Back to my session. We kissed, and wow, was it a kiss! I thought I would melt when feeling her plump, pink, soft lips against mine. I didn’t want it to stop. So why in hell would I want to block such beautiful memories? There has to be another reason.

  Putting things into prospective, I’ve dreamt about her all my life—she is a part of me. We started off as children, then we grew into adults. For years I had the same dream each night, then they suddenly stopped when I turned seventeen, starting again back when I was twenty-five. I don’t understand what happened in the time between. That’s why I’m so confused. I don’t get it. Patrick thinks I blocked them because I’m afraid of something. I think he might be right, there’s no other explanation. I hate not having answers.

  I will post later when I know something.

  Spencer inhaled, holding her breath much longer than necessary. It was something she had done since her youth when trying to pull answers from the abyss. As always, none came. Frustrated, she leant her head back, pinched the pulse in her wrist, and huffed.

  When the dreams had first started, they had been innocent. She had been a young girl, no older than seven or eight, maybe younger. She would spend her days in a large chamber overlooking the kingdom. Golden statues had lined her walls, which were covered with rich carvings, much like painting in modern days. Her bed, in the center of the room, was placed upon a carved, dark oval dais. Pale blue and green bed sheets fell to the floor on either side. Beautifully carved tables were positioned on each side. Spencer knew it was her bedroom, her sanctuary. Never once did she feel threatened; in fact, it was the complete opposite. She loved it there; she felt safe and happy, and hated waking each morning.

  Each day, as the sun climbed over the mounds of golden sand, it warmed the water in the canal. A girl no older than herself, whose skin was bronzed from the sun, and who had blackish-blue eyes, would accompany her. They were friends, and Yiara would light up when she would join her. The girl, Anai, would enter, bow deeply, and giggle. It was obvious to Yiara that the girl was a servant, but it didn’t matter to her because she loved her as if she was her sister. When the guards left them to play, they would both laugh and stick out their tongues.

  As the years progressed, and they both aged, so did the dreams, and their relationship. If not for Anai, Yiara would have fallen apart when her mother died. Upon her fifteenth birthday, Yiara was promised to marry and provide the kingdom with an heir. Her father, the king, had failed to birth a son to succeed him when he was wounded in battle and could no longer have sex. It was not up to Yiara to carry on the bloodline. When Yiara had protested taking a husband, her father had become secretive, and had forbidden all in the palace to speak when she was present. It was odd to her, but she didn’t find it worrisome.

  To Yiara, safety from prying eyes had become a necessity. She needed her privacy to share time with Anai. The days were for performing all the ceremonial and political requirements for the kingdom. The nights, when the halls were sleeping, Yiara and Anai would lie beneath the stars, laughing and holding one another.

  Upon reaching the age of seventeen, Yiara was ordered by her father to take a husband to help rule the kingdom. She was horrified. She already had the one she planned to share her life with, who, in secret, helped her rule the land. The only problem was, Anai could not give her an heir to take over the throne. That would be their obstacle, and if her father found out they were lovers, he would have Anai’s head.

  To avoid being forced into marriage, each time her father would suggest a prospective prince, Yiara would shake her head, disinterested, wave her hand in the air, and storm off. She knew she could not keep him at bay too much longer.

  When Spencer turned seventeen, the dreams suddenly stopped, leaving her feeling alone and abandoned. When the dreams returned, they were no longer the same, and Anai was nowhere to be seen. In her place, a strange woman, no older than herself, appeared, always sitting upon a throne—her body splayed, relaxed catlike across it. Above, a golden light spilled into the room through large, high windows, bathing her in splendor. Yiara watched as she idly plucked berries from a bowl beside her, and gazed thoughtfully out of the window, her large, blackish-blue eyes surveying the countryside wistfully, sadly.

  From that day, the dreams progressed, and she no longer played a part in them. Instead, she was a spectator, always watching, never interacting. It was then she reached out for help. There was something about the woman who, when she looked in her direction, it appeared as though she could see her. Spencer was sure the woman could peer into her soul, and what a beautiful soul it was. The truth was out there, and Spencer was determined to uncover it.

  Chapter 2

  In a slow, seductive motion, Natalie soothed her hand over Spencer’s arm. “You haven’t touched me in months, Spencer.”

  Dismissing the comment, Spencer shuffled to her feet and we
nt and sat in her favorite spot on the window ledge. “It’s not you, Nat. I’m emotionally exhausted. Since I started the transgression therapy, I can’t sleep at night.”

  “I know, baby.” Natalie tried to sound sympathetic, but the sharp tone showed her frustration. “I miss you, Spencer Nicole Avery. It seems like the only thing you think about is the girl from your dream. She’s not real, Spencer! Look at me, I am right here before you, asking you to love me.” Tears welled over the brim of her eyes, staining her cheeks.

  “Nat, please don’t cry, you know I can’t stand it when you cry.” Filled with guilt, Spencer reached out to take Natalie’s hand, but it was met with resistance.

  “No, no more.” Natalie pulled back, putting distance between them. “You can’t keep hurting me like this, Spencer. Either you love me or you don’t, but there is no in-between.” Pausing long enough to run her fingers through her curly, blond locks, Natalie continued in a small voice. “I’m leaving to go back home tomorrow.”

  Raising her brow, Spencer mumbled, “To your apartment?”

  “No, Spencer. I’m moving back to New York. I’m leaving you.”

  The silence that followed became deafening. Spencer knew Natalie was waiting for a response, hoping she would beg her to stay. Instead, she said nothing as she looked out over the city.

  Spencer listened as Natalie complained about how tired she was of competing with the nightmare Spencer called a dream. She went on to say, she was the one who had encouraged Spencer to seek help; now she wished she hadn’t.

  “From the first session, you changed, Spencer. You’re no longer the same woman I fell in love with; in fact, I no longer know you.”

  Spencer inhaled a ragged breath. She couldn’t argue back. She’d become fixated on the woman in her dream, and when her and Natalie did make love, she was thinking of the mysterious woman. She was sure Natalie knew, but, of course, she had no proof. She knew when she began ignoring her, that was the last straw; there was no way Natalie would go on living in a one sided relationship.