His eyes held mine, watching me gaze at him with utter rapture and lust. I got lost in them and wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to be found. If losing myself in him meant I’d always be with him and never worry about anything ever again, then I’d jump into the endless ocean that was him. To forever sink into the depths of him and his pure soul. And to forever be surrounded by the essence of his being.
I couldn’t do that, but if I ever had a chance with him I’d want him to fill me and leave his essence in me when he reached the climax of our joining.
My heart fluttered faster, my clit following the same pace as my breathing picked up. His gaze strayed from my face to my chest, rising and falling quickly. He quirked the corner of his lip up in a ghost of a smirk before smoothing it out. But I didn’t miss his ocean eyes darkening when he met my stare again.
He gently released my hand as he took a step back. His fingers lingered as he kept his piercing eyes on me. After a moment, he went back to his seat. After pouring himself more mead, he settled in his chair but looked less relaxed with tense shoulders. He gripped his horn until his knuckles were white and the veins on the back of his hands were prominent. His eyes darkened another shade, and they only did that when he was upset about something.
Raising his horn to his lips, he drank a few good swallows with his eyes still holding mine. It was becoming heavy between us, the light mood forgotten. Which was something new with him since he’d always been in a good mood around me.
“Drink,” he said, his voice low and rough.
Breaking the eye contact, I did as he said and drank the mead. The mind-numbing alcohol helped relax me farther into my seat and calm my rapid pulse. But it didn’t stop the throbbing between my legs. Instead, it intensified every time I peeked at him.
“You’ve been gone too long.” My gaze went back to him and stayed. He watched me as he sat pressing his back to the chair, one leg crossed over the other with his ankle resting on his knee. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair, with his hand under his chin, his forefinger stroked thoughtfully on his lower lip as he studied me. “Where did you go this time?”
Swallowing my sip of mead, I lowered my horn and relaxed into my chair. The furs of a bear I killed long ago that hung over the seat cushioned the back of my head, lending me comfort.
“Faelaxus.”
He gave a half nod before taking a drink, still watching me with the same intensity as when he was hunting. For some strange reason, this look didn’t raise my concern but instead warmed my body. My face flushed, and I grew wet between my legs, like my body responded to him against my will—like he controlled my every reaction to him.
And the strange fluttering in my stomach came back.
“Where in Faelaxus?”
Smiling gently and shifting in my seat, I recalled the long days and nights I spent outside in the field of wildflowers surrounded by the misty woods on the hills. They were so beautiful and full of wonderful vivid colors I couldn’t help but to sleep in them for those few nights I stayed in the realm.
Being there surrounded by the beauty and nature that hadn’t been discovered by people helped me overcome the seething and emotional pain I endured because of the wolf tribe. I connected with nature and became one with it as it healed me, whispering its intricate words in comfort. The first night it covered me with vines and flowers, lending me its strength to overcome a pain that went deeper inside me.
Something was missing from me. I’d always wondered why I had a gaping hole in my soul because I didn’t have a soulmate. I wasn’t structured that way. But each time I was away from him, the more unbearable it became.
Some nights I spent lying in the fields on my back, gazing up at the night sky dotted with bright stars. The peace that overcame me as I watched the northern lights dance in the sky for that time was needed, and I hadn’t realized how badly I needed it at the time. When with him, I felt the same peace. Like I was whole, and he grounded me to this world.
I realized that night how badly I needed him with me at all times to be connected with everything and myself without the pressure in my head and chest. For me to live in the moment and not feel like I was on the brink of bursting, risking everyone if that were to happen.
And I knew, too, as I lay on my back and thought about how he brought out the good in me, that only in my dreams would I ever be with him. Fitting since the beauty of the night sky and field I lay in looked like a dream with the colors and essence of the calm it gave.
It lived up to its name being the fields of Dreyma.
The fields of dreams.
It was the most dangerous place for everyone because of the deadly plants and wildlife. If someone survived those, then the mirage of dreams the field showed to the person would certainly kill them. It would lure in its victim, showing them their deepest desires and promising them the things they wanted. When they fell for the trap and were lured in, the field feasted on their life force, therefore sustaining it to continue luring in its next victim.
But while I was there, it never tried to harm me. Instead, it accepted me and let me be as I marveled at the night sky and thought about my life and the one man who compelled me. The fields of Dreyma didn’t harm me, but they showed me my dreams in the inky darkness.
It must’ve known my longing because there was one night he showed up, dressed in his armor with my symbol in the middle of his chest. I heard his heavy footsteps approaching me, the metal ting of his sword tapping against the dagger I made him carry and protect at all costs. His brown hair was braided, and his kind blue eyes were on me as I sat up from my lying position. He took the last few steps through the flowers before dropping to his knees next to me.
Longing burned in the depths of his gaze as he watched me. For a moment, I truly believed it was him. Then he reached for me and cupped the back of my head, pulling me into him for the most earth-shattering kiss I’d received. I knew he’d never kiss me, but that night I pretended it was him and delved into the sexual fantasy with the mirage.
“I went to a wildflower field on the side of a misty mountain no one can go to. It’s called the fields of Dreyma,” I answered, my voice husky from the memory.
Raising an eyebrow, he took another drink. His sharp eyes stayed on me and didn’t miss the flush to my cheeks.
Nodding his head toward me, he said roughly, “No one’s been there? Why didn’t you bring me with you?”
I blinked and lowered my eyes as I processed his question.
Did I make a mistake, then? Should I have said something to him and given him the option to decide?
