The image arrived in my mind before I could stop it. Me, naked and kneeling in a sea of white flowers that bent and swayed around my body while a lake rippled in front.
He frowned. "You were crying. No. Sobbing. So loud and so hard it looked like it hurt for you to breathe through it."
My heart ached as I saw myself sobbing in the field. Shoulders shaking. Mouth open. The kind of crying that wrecked the lungs.
I placed my hand on his chest. “And where were you?”
“Heading your way, but. . .I wasn’t a man. I was a huge dragon. Black and gold. And when I got close to you, I realized this horrible fact.”
“What?”
“You made that ocean with the steady stream of your tears. I got close and they were pouring into the water and expanding it along the flowers.” He moved his hand from my face and lowered to my hip. “And I began to call your name.”
“Tora.”
“Yes. Over and over, but you would not turn around.”
“You said sorry.”
He blinked. “How do you know that?”
“I heard you apologize.”
He studied me. “I blamed myself for your tears.”
“Why do you think you did that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I bet it wasn’t you that made me cry.”
He pursed his lips together.
“Do you know how I know?”
“How?”
“Because if you made me cry, I would not be making a lake of tears. I would be kicking your ass.”
He blinked and then he chuckled.
I winked.
He chuckled some more, low in his chest, and I felt it travel through his body and into mine.
Then second after second. . .his laugh quieted and his thumb brushed along my hip and stayed there. But his eyes had drifted past my shoulder, off to where the dream still lived.
Come back to me, Dragon.
I pressed my palm flat against his chest and relished in the rhythm of his heart. “It was just a dream. I’m here and I’m not crying. I’m happy.”
His gaze returned to me, and the shadow behind his eyes lifted a little.
"Besides," I caressed the dragon’s head tattooed on his chest. "I had a front row seat to the Dragon sleeping."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "You did."
"It was a fabulous show."
