When I open them again, I can feel Mara’s warm fingers glaze over my chest.
I sit up with a loud gasp. Mara has her hand against my heart, her expression panicked. She’s in her nightgown, her tail rubbing against me in alarm.
I look up at her.
My hands come up to her face and they’re shaking so hard I have to press them against her cheeks to make them stop. Her skin is warm. Her amber eyes are on mine. Alive.
The bond between us is whole. I check it like I’m running my hands over a wound that isn’t there anymore—and it isn’t. She’s here.
I press my forehead against hers and I cannot make myself speak.
I remember how the life vanished out of them.
I immediately fall ill. My stomach twists violently, bile rising in my throat. I gag, rolling out of bed and fall to my knees. I scramble to my feet, stumbling into the bathroom. I lift the toilet seat and hurl, my body convulsing as I empty my stomach, the horror of what I witnessed still fresh and raw.
Mara runs into the bathroom and drops to her knees beside me, gently rubbing my back. She doesn’t say anything. Just purrs, low and soothing, while I heave. The sound of her purr, the warmth of her touch, they ground me to this reality where she’s still alive.
When I’m finished, I flush the toilet and fall back against the bathroom wall, breathing heavily, sweat cooling on my skin.
Mara stands, grabs a washcloth from the linen closet, then runs warm water over it. She rings out the cloth and drops toher knees in front of me, gently cleaning my face. Her tenderness brings fresh tears to my eyes.
I grab her wrist, but I don’t stop her. I just need to feel her pulse beneath my fingers, the steady beat confirming she’s alive.
“Bad dream?” she asks softly.
I don’t answer. I just look at her eyes. So happy to see life in them, to see that spark, that fire that makes herher.
“Will you please tell me what’s going on?” she asks, concern etching lines between her brows.
I can’t tell her that I time traveled. Or if I’m even certain this was all just a bad dream. But it felt so real. Like no other dream I’ve had before.
Anora would know. I know my magic pulled from her, this is why I’m time traveling. But I can’t risk Amir finding out. Amir’s already told me he plans to destroy the Witching Glen.
I finally breathe out. “I had a nightmare.”
“Oh, baby.” She leans in and kisses my forehead, and the warmth of her lips against my skin makes me relax a little, anchoring me to this moment, to her.
She pulls me to my feet and walks me over to the sink, standing with me as I brush my teeth and wash my face. Then she helps me back to the bed, and I sit down, my body still trembling slightly.
I watch her with love and admiration as she goes into the kitchen. She finds some bread, makes me a couple of slices of toast, pours a glass of water, and brings it over to me. Then she sits down beside me, the bed dipping beneath her weight. The simple domesticity of it all almost makes me break down again, these small moments of love I might have lost forever.
“Eat,” she says. “Then we can talk.”
“I don’t want to relive that nightmare,” I tell her, the thought of describing what I saw making me nauseous again.
She just watches me calmly. Her tail nudges at the edge of the plate, and I sigh, then start to eat, taking comfort in her presence beside me.
She scoots closer as I bite into the toast and finish the glass of water. She tries to take the plate and glass from me, but I stand from the bed and take them to the sink myself.
“I got it, baby,” I tell her.
“Hurry up and come back to bed,” she says.
I watch the way her nightgown rises up her ass as she climbs into bed, and it’s insane how the littlest things she does seem to get me turned on. I just watch her for a moment, my eyes glued to her ass more than anything else. The desire, the love, the fear of losing her, they all twist together inside me.
I finally walk over to the bed. She lies on her stomach, and I crawl in beside her, drinking in the sight of her.
“Go back to sleep,” she murmurs. “We have to teach tomorrow.”
