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Sable opens her eyes, and there’s a touch of worry in the tightening of her brow.
“You can do this,” I assure her.
“Right. I can do this,” she agrees, though she doesn’t really sound like she means it.
The sun rises higher in the sky. I drain my now-lukewarm coffee and polish off another cinnamon roll while I watch Sable work. Perspiration beads at her hairline, and every so often, her face screws up like she’s concentrating extra hard.
I don’t know how to help her with this part any more than I already have. I can be here and give her encouragement, but ultimately, it’s up to Sable to build her astral realm.
Around eleven, I hear her stomach growl with hunger and decide she needs a break. She’s pale and sweaty, looking as if she just ran a marathon.
“Sable.” I speak her name gently, careful not to startle her out of her trance-like state.
After a short pause, she lifts her chin slightly, eyes still closed. “Hmm?”
“I think we should break for a while. Give you a chance to recuperate. We can get back at it this afternoon.”
“Okay. Let me just…” She goes silent for another few minutes, and then finally, opens her eyes. “I want to see if I can go back there. Just really quickly.”
“Be careful. Don’t overdo it,” I warn her as she closes her eyes again.
A few moments later, a grin spreads over her face, and her eyes pop open. Excitement gleams in their blue depths, tentative but palpable.
“I did it. I went back! It wasn’t perfect, but it’s a good start.”
I smile back at her, pride welling in my chest. “Hell, yeah, it is.”
For the next several days, as battle plans commence, Sable and I continue working. By the end of the first day, she’s got a tenuous place set up for us in the astral realm, but she looks dead where she sits, so I cut her off for the day. We start early the next morning on trying to use the mate bond as an astral link. We try meditating together. We try chanting to get on the same wavelength. We try lying on the blanket and dozing, only for us both to fall completely asleep from the exhaustion of the past several weeks.
And we fail. A lot.
On the third day, after yet another failed attempt at drawing me into the connection, Sable throws herself backward on the blanket, arms spread wide and face pointed at the sky. “Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit. This is impossible.”
I slide across the space between us to lie beside her, and then tug her into my arms. She remains stubbornly on her back, but her side melts against me and she wraps an arm around mine.
“It’s not impossible,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You’ve already done it.”
“Maybe I didn’t, actually.” She lets out an exasperated noise, blinking rapidly as if dispelling tears. The sun reflects on her big blue eyes, making them look lighter than usual. “Maybe it was just a dream.”
“It wasn’t. I know you can do this because you’ve done it before,” I tell her simply. “So I know you can do it again.”
She turns her head to look at me. A lock of golden hair curls down her face, and I slide it away with the tips of my fingers.
“You can do this,” I repeat, hoping if I say the words enough, she’ll believe them. “I’ve never had any doubts. So now, all you can do is believe in yourself.”
I kiss her, losing myself in the taste of her for several long minutes. She turns into me, hooking a leg over my hips, her fingers sliding in my hair, and suddenly, meditation and astral travel just don’t feel that exciting anymore. Nothing is more tempting than the feel of this woman against my body.
But before it can get too hot and heavy, I break away, breathing hard. We’re lying on our sides, arms wrapped around each other, lips still agonizingly close. I press my forehead against hers and close my eyes. “Try again.”
Neither of us really wants to stop what we were just doing. I can feel her reluctance through the bond, but she follows my urging. Her eyes close as her breathing evens out. She clutches my shirt in one hand, the other still tangled in my hair. Magic turns her scars black as she slips into the astral realm.
And a few seconds later, I feel a tug.
It’s so light that I almost think I’ve imagined it. But then it happens again. It’s as if someone’s inside my subconscious, pulling me off my feet, out of my body, but there isn’t enough strength behind the movement to get me going. My head swims, and I cling to Sable’s arms tighter.
“Is that you?” I ask roughly.
“I… think s
