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“Wait. Before?” He had trouble following her. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. I can’t make sense of it. But weren’t we standing in this exact spot earlier? It feels too coherent, too detailed.”
“It was–”
“Snowing,” she finished.
His breath stalled, then restarted, but it was rather ungainly if you asked his lungs. “How did you know–” He tilted his head and studied her. Her brows were drawn together over those expressive gray eyes, her mouth gathered into a contemplative pout. “Was it in color?”
“No.”
His eyebrows arched over his eyes, but the surprise slid around inside him. She knew it had been snowing, knew it hadn’t been in color. That didn’t mean she was real, however. She could still be a product of his own subconscious. “You’re implying that this is real? That when I touch you–”–he reached out, slid his fingers into her hair at the back of her head, and smoothed his thumb across her cheek. Her mouth parted as she drew in a heavier breath–“that you’re actually feeling it.”
She hummed a noise and stepped away from his touch with a sharp gaze—a very Brinna action— then looked down at the ground and crossed her arms over her chest. “I just told you I don’t know, Lucian. What part of I don’t know means I know?”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
Luc narrowed his eyes. “The real Brinna would never apologize to me.”
She huffed. “Yes, I would!”
“But that is definitely how the real Brinna would say that.” Luc was enjoying this dream immensely. “How can we determine if we’re real or just a figment of the dream?”
She seemed at a loss for a moment, then spun back to face him. “We have to tell a fact to one another, and then the next time we see each other, share it.”
“Defeats the purpose. Could still be a part of my subconscious.” He tapped his head.
She sighed and brought her finger to her chin, tapping. Luc watched her pace back and forth, completely engaged in the moment—dream or not. Tap. Tap. Tap. She whirled around. “I have it.”
“Hit me.”
“Sort of.”
“Wait. What?”
Brinna held up a finger. “Can we agree that when we dream, anything that causes physical sensation–”
“Physical sensation?” Luc was afraid to add to that, and he recalled his hand grabbing her hips, the feel of her soft heat on his cock. He cleared his throat. “Like?”
“Like when I pinched you. Or falling.”
Right. Her mind was elsewhere. “Okay. What am I agreeing to?”
“That under normal dream circumstances, you’d wake up.”
Luc nodded, not sure he liked her trail of thought. “Okay. Sure.”
“So then, we have to do something physical to one another—and if we experience the physical sensation, then the other person is most likely real.”
Luc smirked.
“What?”
He scoffed but didn’t elaborate. “Okay. I’ll agree with you for the sake of trying to determine if we are dream people, that if the other is able to make us feel something physical, then we’re really here.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she continued. “We should probably put some parameters on it. You know, to keep it clear.”
