Scoffing, she shook her head in disgust. It was a fantasy, for goodness sakes! Why was she mourning it like she did when her mother died? Silently she vowed to wipe it from her mind. She wouldn’t think about it anymore. Tomorrow was a new day. A fresh start and she intended to make the best of it.
* ~ * ~ *
Leisurely her hand stirred the contents of her quickly thrown together dinner as it bubbled around the edges of the pot. The warm scent of her soup made Elena’s stomach clench painfully with hunger. It was as though her stomach was getting back at her for going without food for most of the day. She had no one to blame but herself. Earlier that morning she’d called in sick at work — not that she was sick at all. Something just felt off about herself, silently she chalked it up to depression due to her mother’s recent passing.
Though Angel had no issue covering for her at the shop, Angel did promise that she’d be coming by in a few days to check on her. Not that she’d let it come to that. Listening to Angel’s suggestion about allowing herself to grieve properly she spent the day doing just that. After visiting her mother’s grave for the first time since the funeral, her heart did feel a little lighter. But something pressed at the corners of her mind. Urging her and reminding her that something was missing. Hopefully after a day of rest she’d be back to her old self again.
Deciding that her dinner was hot enough to burn a hole through her stomach lining she removed it from the burner. As she poured the contents into a bowl she sighed at the empty silence of her home. It was all too evident now how alone she really was.
Lifting bowl from the counter, her hands began soaking up the comforting heat whilst she and made her way to the living room. The sound of creaking floor boards from the living room had the fine hairs at her neck standing straight up. She had locked the door, she mentally assured herself. Deciding to investigate, she went to stand in the open doorway of the kitchen. But the sight that greeted her eyes was the last thing she ever expected to see.
Standing in the middle of her living room was a tall, shadowy figure of a man. Heart frozen in fear, she remained still as she struggled to make out his face. However the light from the lamp beside the couch didn’t reach where the intruder stood, keeping his features hidden in shadows. Was it a burglar? Had her muggers followed her home?
As her heart pounded at the sight of the intruder, there was something familiar about him but she was too filled with fright to care. Taking a step back in hopes of reaching the phone on the counter, the tiled floor beneath her bare feet emitted a soft squeak and drew the gaze of the intruder. Without moving, she knew that he watched her, his breath the only sound between them.
For a moment, she stood there much like a deer in headlights. Numbed in shock she didn’t even notice that her bowl had slipped from her hands until it crashed to the floor in a mixture of hot liquid and splintering pieces around her feet. Her eyes widened as the intruder took a step towards her, causing her to take a step back.
The sharp bite of the broken bowl crunched under her soft feet and caused her to cry out in pain. Glancing down at her painful feet her gaze jerked up as the intruder stepped closer. It was then that the light from the kitchen highlighted his face. Her eyes immediately locked on the dark, sliver rimmed eyes that stared back at her. She knew those eyes. It was then that the intruder moved into the light, revealing a large muscular body with gray skin.
It’s not possible. She screamed inside her mind as adrenaline pumped through her veins.
A pair of gray hands reached towards her as though she was a frightened animal. Her eyes widened at the sight of those hands. Could it be? No. Shaking her head she refused to admit the possibility. Reaching out she scrambled to grab the phone in hopes of calling for help but in her rush her shaking hands fumbled the phone and sent it falling to the floor. She watched helplessly as the thin plastic handset slid between the intruder’s legs.
“Don’t run,” the masculine voice rumbled out with command. “Come here.”
Yeah… that will be happening very soon… not.
Instead she did the best she could do in her current scared shitless condition. She panicked.
Letting out a terrified scream she limped toward the opposite doorway leading into the opposite side of the living room. With her slow movements she only made it as far as the red bricked fireplace just as the intruder was half way across the room and still was slowly advancing on her. There was no way she could reach the door behind him without him grabbing her. Was this really happening? This definitely wasn’t her week. She could only pray that she could get out of this alive and with her sanity intact.
Pressing her back against the rough bricks she struggled to calm her racing heart. “Get away from me,” she pleaded softly.
A warm chuckle floated in the space between them. “Never.” His words made her heart shudder in her chest with fear. The option to talk her way out was ripped off the table with his smug words. The intruder held out an offered hand to her but she simply glared firmly back, “Stay back!”
His advancing steps didn’t falter, they didn’t even slow down. Acting fast she reached behind her to grab the fireplace poker from its stand. As her fingers curled around the cool iron she swung it toward her opponent like a baseball bat. Instead of it intimidating him, he eyed the weapon curiously. It was then that she noticed with heavy disappointment that it wasn’t the poker that she grabbed but the shovel.
Refusing to back down she swung the shovel like a club at his head moments before he quickly ducked. The movement had her stepping down on her injured foot and pulled a soft gasp from her lips. Still holding up her weapon between them, her fear began to build as she waited for him to make a move. Instead of rushing at her as she thought he would, he stood perfectly still, watching her with a worried gaze.
“Come on! I’m not afraid of you.”
“Var’da. It’s me, Kieran. Be calm,” the rough voice cautioned gently.
“Shut up!” she yelled. She needed to wake up! This was a dream! It had to be. “You’re not real! I’m going crazy or dreaming or dreaming that I’ve gone crazy. Leave!”
Pushing the pain in her feet aside she made one last effort to defend herself as he took the last step towards her. Swinging her weapon through the air she gasped in surprise as his large hand caught the shovel before it could hit him. Ripping it roughly from her hands the weapon was tossed away while he gave her a stern look.
“No more fighting. Var’da.”
His arms wrapped tightly around her despite her resistance and pressed her up against his burning skin. At the touch of his skin, something happened to her. Her vision suddenly began swimming and her brain felt like it was inside a blender. Disorientated and scared, her breaths came out in hyperventilating pants as black spots danced before her eyes. Her limbs became weak and any strength she once possessed fled from her. She barely felt the hand caressing her face as her head lulled back against her neck and darkness descended over her.
Chapter Three
Racing feet echoed through the bright halls of the Kelithian ivory fortress as Theius — the king’s adviser — rushed toward the throne room. Coming to a stop at the towering golden door, he cringed at the thought of opening it. The king would not be pleased with the news he had and he knew who would pay the price of the kings anger — him. Curling his fingers into a fist and before he could second guess himself, he pounded on the door. As usual there was no response. Shoving the door open, he slipped into the glimmering room. Unlike the Garmorians that lived in a dark stone fortress, all the Kelithians lived in an enormous palace of gold and sparkling gems.
Pushing his shoulders back he made his way across the wide space to stand before the golden spiked throne. Before him sat the king Zyaid, to others he seemed every bit a king with his terra silk robes and spiked, jeweled crown. Unlike most Kelithians, Zyaid lacked the muscular physic that most males possessed due to his lazy nature. Being king meant nothing to him; the only thing he cared for was the po
wer over others that the position granted him. His long hair was secured at the nape of his neck with a strip of leather. His face held lines around his sharp eyes and his hair held streaks of silver attesting to his age, whatever that age may be.
King Zyaid ignored his adviser as he approached below the raised platform of his throne. His long fingers absently picked at a platter of food beside his throne seat with a dark scowl.
“My lord?” Quick as lightening, King Zyaid’s red eyes jerked to his with an unyielding glare. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped with fear. He’d only become the king’s advisor recently and apparently he was the fourth one this month. King Zyaid’s temper was well known and had many on guard at all times.
“What is it, Theius?” his deep voice bit out as his long, claw-like nails tapped against the arm of his throne with irritation.
“There has been news of the Garmorians.”
“I care not about those savages. Leave them to their own devices, they will slip eventually and just as we rid ourselves of the eastern village, I’ll rid our entire world of their kind once and for all,” Zyaid said without concern.
“My lord, your spies have confirmed that the Garmorians have…” his words trailed off as he gulped in fear once more.
Rolling his eyes, Zyaid turned his attention back to his tray of food. “What?”
“They… they have began to… dream seek.” Theius cringed the second the words left his mouth. Holding his breath he waited for the wrath of his king’s anger that would surely come.
Jerking his head back to his advisor, Zyaid eyes flared as his voice hissed out, “What did you say?”
Gulping, Theius wrung his hands together with apprehension as the walls around him begun to gently rattle. “They’ve begun to dream seek.”
“No!” Snarling in rage he slammed his fist down, shoving at the platter of food with a violent sweep of his clawed hand caused it to fly into the wall with a loud crash.
Rising to his feet he slowly descended down the steps of the raised platform, before rushing at his advisor with bloodlust in his eyes. His hand shot out as his fingers wrapped around his advisor’s thin neck. Raising him up until his toes barely touched the ground, Zyaid snarled in his face.
“How have the unworthy Garmorian’s come by this? I am KING! I am the only one deserving of such a gift!” Curling his lip in disgust as his advisor gasped and fought his punishing grip he abruptly tossed Theius aside like a rag doll.
Falling to the polished floor, Theius came upon his knees cupping his bruised throat. “We don’t know how they acquired it. All we know is that several of the Gu’an’s warrior’s have begun to seek their mates and the priestess has been assisting them too.” Clenching his fists tightly, Zyaid snarled as the walls around them began to shake like a mighty earthquake with the power of his rage.
Darting his fearful gaze from the rigid back of his king, Theius shot a look toward the door. He longed to run for the tempting sight of the doorway, but he knew his king would kill him before he could take a step. His palms sweated with apprehension, he could practically feel the rage pouring off of Zyaid as his dark power shook the foundation around them. If he wanted to, the king could bury them alive with little difficulty. This did not bode well for his future if the king decided to turn his rage onto the only person near him. Then, everything went silent. Filled with dread, Theius raised his surprised eyes to his king. Pursing his lips, Zyaid narrowed his red eyes down at him, rubbing his hands together in contemplation.
“You will have my spies watch everything the warriors do. If one is successful in crossing over and obtaining their mate I want to be the first to know.”
Slowly Theius stumbled to his feet as he bobbed his head obediently. Without waiting a second longer, Theius turned and quickly fled the throne room slamming the door behind him as he rushed off to do as his king commanded. He thanked his lucky stars that he was still alive — for now.
* ~ * ~ *
The scent of fear that clung in the air around him made Zyaid smirk with pleasure. He like that every Kelithian under his rule feared and obeyed him, sadly the Garmorian’s were a different story. For centuries he’d waited patiently for their kind to summit to their true king, but the bastards would rather deny his right to rule and seek to take his throne from him as his sister had long ago.
The dark memory of his sister’s demise brought a cruel smile to his thin lips. No one would take his crown from him, not the Garmorian leader and not some imaginary Goddess. No doubt that was where the Garmorian’s fantasized their new power to cross the veil came from.
What rubbish!
The only superior being on this plane was him! Once he discovered the secret to crossing the boundary of the other world he would finally become a god over all beings. The corners of his lips curled evilly as he imagined the power he would soon wield. No one would ever be strong enough to stand in his way. Yes, it would all be his — soon.
* ~ * ~ *
Groaning, Elena’s hand reached up to hold her aching head else she feared it would tumble off her shoulders. What the hell had happened last night? This had to be the worse hangover she’d ever experienced. Wait — did she even have a drink last night?
Flashes of images played behind her eyes of discovering an intruder in her living room. Only the intruder was the man from her dreams but unlike in her dreams she could see the ruthless in his eyes when she tried to run from him and told him to go away. It scared her that her fantasy was haunting her with a vengeance but at the same time it confused her. Had her grief finally made her lose all her senses?
She opened her eyes only to be greeted by the darkness of the room she was in. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that she was lying upon a huge bed covered in dark furs that she would admit felt wonderful against her skin. To her left, a wealth of silvery moonlight shined through an open archway to a large balcony. Was she dreaming again?
A sound of sloshing water drew her attention from across the wide room causing her to turn her head. Her eyes caught the sight of a broad gray back that she recognized immediately. A cloaking shadow fell across his back as he moved to stand before a square table. From her position she saw that he was pouring water from a larger pitcher into a large black bowl that rested on the table. Moving away from the table, he reached for a corked bottle from a nearby shelf. Returning back, he slowly uncorked the thin bottle and poured its contents into the water.
Her eyes widened when she saw him select a sharp blade from the black leather harness at his ribs. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she watched him turn the blade upon himself, slicing at his thick forearm. Holding his bleeding arm above the bowl, he allowed his blood to run off his skin and into the water. At the first dark drop, the bowl’s contents began to glow with a bright blue light that chased the shadows away from the sharp angles of his chiseled face. Picking up the bowl he turned to face her, his eyes held no surprise at seeing her awake as he approached.
“Sit up,” he ordered softly.
Watching him warily, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. With the simple movement she couldn’t prevent wincing in pain as it felt like sharp needles were stabbing at the bottom of her feet. His eyes colored with concern though he said nothing. Taking a seat on the end of the bed he sat the bowl to the side of her covered legs without a word. Not understanding where the hell she was or what was going on, what she did know for sure was that she wanted to wake up now.
Reaching over, she pinched at her opposite forearm causing her to close her eyes against the slight pain.
Opening her eyes, she found that she was still in the same place with Kieran staring at her with a perplexed look. “What are you doing?” he asked lifting the furs off her feet with an upsweep of his hand.
“Trying to wake up, usually pinching yourself is supposed to work,” she mumbled glancing around her.
“So you have said before,” he signed, shaking his head. “You’re not dreaming.” Pulling her bare feet toward him,
his gaze dipped to inspect them.
“Of course I am. What other explanation is there? Ow!” She jerked with surprise as pain coursed through the bottom of her foot at the touch of his fingers.
Dream of Me Page 5