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He leaned forward in the tall, wingback chair and settled his forearms on his thighs. He shook his head back and forth. A host of words slid over his tongue, burning as they went, but he remained silent.
Just when he thought he had his world figured out, he learned he could build dreamglides.
Until this moment, his goal had been perfectly clear: One day, at the right time, he would challenge Kryder and take over the Meldorin Pack. He was ready to unseat the bastard and finally have the control he’d been seeking. To cement his power and position, he intended to take an alpha female as his mate as quickly as possible. His body was demanding it. But he also knew that a strong bond in a mated pair would further engage the entire pack and work to build their community in a positive way.
But this? A fae gift? What the hell was he supposed to do with dreamglide-building? He was a wolf, for God’s sake.
He supposed it would be good to have an additional weapon in his arsenal, especially facing a man like Kryder. The wolf’s general disregard for life, alter or otherwise, made him a menace anywhere he went. But building dreamglides?
Even if it turned out he could, what the hell was he supposed to do with that?
He glanced up at Natalie.
She’d moved closer once more then huffed a sigh. “I don’t know the answer.”
“You don’t know the question,” he said.
“You’re wondering what you’re supposed to do with a gift like dreamgliding.”
He rose slowly to his feet. He needed to get his head out of his ass. “You said I should try building one of these damn things. But how am I supposed to do it when I have no idea what it is?”
She opened her mouth, ready no doubt to respond in kind with something like, ‘How the hell am I supposed to know.’ Instead, she clearly thought the better of it and clamped her lips together. They were alike in that way, both a bit impatient.
He was grateful she’d kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t helping their situation that they were both in the same frame of mind, both equally frustrated. “And you’re sure you don’t have this gift?”
She spread her hands wide. “Positive. Sorry I can’t be of more help.” She moved to stand a couple of feet from him.
The scent of her, of lemonade and mint, washed over him. His nostrils flared. Her womanliness blended with the unusual aroma and a kind of peace descended on him. During the earlier dreamglide, how she smelled had aroused him and he could tell the same thing could happen now.
But whatever this was, this peculiar scent she possessed, it also had the power to ease his mind. So, he let it work for him.
“What do you remember,” she asked, “when you found yourself in the Cloister Garden? What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”
He shifted his gaze away from her and focused on the earlier Mont St. Michel experience. One thing he knew about dreamglides, they were real, though they operated on a slightly different plane, which meant he and Natalie had actually been in the garden, in real time and space.
He’d thought about little else from the time he’d awakened for the night. He was working a short shift between ten and two, which he thought a good thing given the circumstances.
But what had he recalled when he came to a full-waking state? “I remember how sweet the air smelled. The grass must have been cut not long ago. It was real, wasn’t it? Not a dream, I mean.”
“Very real. We were in France.”
“Jesus.” He rubbed his forehead with his thumb. “A dreamglide.”
He had to figure this out.
He focused on how the grass felt beneath his bare feet then forced his mind backward. What had he been dreaming about?
Natalie.
The dream suddenly came back to him. “I’d been dreaming about you. We were flying together in the cool night air, side by side.” He could remember it as plain as anything. He’d been flying beside her and taking pleasure in her smile. He hadn’t known her very long, but he could tell she had a naturally joyous nature, something she rarely showed in Five Bridges.
“Where do you want to go?” he’d asked her. “I’ll take you anywhere.”
She’d responded immediately, “The Cloister Garden at Mont St. Michel in Normandie. I
n France. You know the painting in the foyer at the shelter?”
“I know the one. It’s of that place that gets surrounded by water at certain high tides, so it sometimes looks like an island.”
