by M. Leighton
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into my ear, his voice husky against my cheek. “Don’t leave me again…”
My eyes snapped open and I stared at the green numbers on my alarm clock.
2:00 a.m. Who the heck was that? I had never met that man…but I knew him. The familiarity was unmistakable. It was so strong that it was overwhelming. And I was annoyed that I had woken up.
But something had woken me. Something had pulled me from my delicious dream. And I knew it wasn’t a noise or a light that had disturbed me. It was a feeling. A strange feeling.
It took me until 2:01 to wake up enough to realize that I was clutching the bloodstone necklace in my hand. Apparently, I had grabbed it in my sleep. The cool stone was polished and smooth in my palm and as I turned it over, vivid images assailed me like a lightning bolt. Sloe-eyed, dark skinned people, the heavy scent of jasmine and blue eye paint. I gasped just as soon as I could breathe again and dropped the stone onto the floor.
What the hell was that? I could swear that I still smelled jasmine.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and stared at the necklace in the corner. If I didn’t know better, I would think that the red splotches were glowing, rising above the surface of the stone and pulsing. But that would be impossible. Or I was crazy.
And that was entirely possible.
I waited until my raspy breathing returned to normal and then curled up in bed. Every two seconds, I glanced back toward the necklace. It was laying motionlessly on the floor, as innocuous as ever. And it was not glowing. Either I was crazy or I had imagined it. I finally drifted back off to sleep as I desperately tried to convince myself that I had dreamed the whole thing… because I didn’t like the alternative.