A second later, as if someone had heard my mental plea, a pair of boots covered my feet.
I gaped. “What’s going on?”
Aspen grabbed my hand. “We have some things to talk about.”
I let him pull me toward the oak tree as I scrutinized his tilted lips. He seemed himself, but I didn’t trust it.
Aspen sank to the ground, leaning against the tree. He tugged my arm when I didn’t immediately join him. But I couldn’t sit.
He sighed, accepting my resistance, and let go.
“You dream-walked into my nightmare. Every night since they took you from me, similar scenes have played out in my mind. I’d hold you in my arms, and we’d talk until—” He paused, averting his gaze.
“You’d die. Either by someone else’s hands or”—his voice softened—“my own, when I was Hell Runed.”
Unable to stand the ache in his tone, I lowered myself next to him. But I couldn’t bring myself to touch him—not yet.
“I didn’t think anything of it when the scenery in my nightmare stilled or our conversation diverted from what my subconscious usually imagined. You kept telling me you were alive, and all I could think was… not for long.”
A tear slipped down his cheek, and despite my need to reach out and comfort him, I couldn’t. I wanted to believe and trust him, but the vividness of the last dream-walk sank its claws into my mind. It had felt so real.
“Then you brought up the term dream-walker and told me you were the daughter of Hell, and I knew something was off about my nightmare. But that didn’t change the direction of my subconscious.” He glanced down at his wrists. “The Hell Runes were carved into my skin, and I turned like I always did. But before I could kill you in my nightmare, I woke up. I’d never been able to wake myself up—I always had to watch you die.
“The moment I opened my eyes, I knew something was different. I followed my gut, searched our library for the term, and found nothing. It was odd, seeing as I swore I’d seen it in one of our books before.”
“So the Hell Runes weren’t real?”
“No.”
“But I felt your pain.”
He turned to me. “I thought I was about to kill you.” The shame and horror twisting his expression only made me question myself more.
“But I can’t feel any of your emotions now.” I wasn’t sure why I continued to doubt him. His expressions seemed genuine, his words sincere. He didn’t act like he was hiding anything from me or about to turn on me. Everything he said made sense. So why didn’t I trust him?
He shrugged and pressed his hand to my cheek. “I can’t feel our tether anymore, sweetheart. That’s why I thought you were dead.” His hand trailed to my lips, sending tingles across the sensitive skin. “Sometimes I still wonder if you are, or if my nightmares have taken a turn for… well, I’m not sure if this would be better or worse.”
If he couldn’t feel our tether, maybe my ability to feel his emotions was cut off too. But what did I feel before? Was it a fluke of the dream-walk? I didn’t understand this type of dream-walking. Or was being in Hell disrupting our connection?
“It was only a nightmare, Lucille. I’m fine.”
I was so close to giving in to his words, yet a small part of me still wanted to question him. He must’ve seen my wavering doubt.
“Watch,” he said. The top of his uniform vanished to reveal a pale, muscular chest. It was exactly what he’d done to my feet with the boots. A second later, thousands of Hell Runes appeared across his skin.
I recoiled, but they were gone just as swiftly.
“Whatever powers you use to come here, allow me to change things. I had suspicions when I woke up and confirmed them earlier with your boots.”
I bit my lip, holding back my creeping hope. “A nightmare?”
He smiled and slowly reached for my face, giving me time to pull away. I stayed put, and his smile widened as he removed my lower lipfrom abusing teeth. The playful lightness in his blue eyes chased away the last of my doubt.
“A nightmare,” he confirmed.
Delicious tingles spread across my skin as his thumb brushed along my mouth. His eyes followed the motion, enthralled. Desire overtook his expression, turning his smile into something more heated.
“I want to kiss you,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.
