CHAPTER FOUR

 THE GIRL

I know I’m dreaming again.

I’m standing in the moonlit river. My toes find balance on the earth, soft and shifting, the hush of wind sends shivers down my spine. He is sitting at the riverbank, knees closed against his broad chest, waiting for me.

“Come” He beckons.

I step out of the water, drawn to those silver eyes, claiming my spot next to him, I rest my head on his shoulder and we sit in silence, the world around us a whisper. The night sky is vast above, dotted with stars like scattered diamonds. He runs his hand through my hair, every stroke a gentle precision, like he knew each strand by name.

Then he turns to face me, stopping only inches away. I can feel the heat radiating from his skin, despite the cold night wrapping around us. His hand rises slowly, tracing the line of my jaw with a touch so gentle it makes my knees weaken. His mouth finds my neck, and he kisses his way down my throat, soft and slow, to the hollow between my breasts, lingering longer on the trail leading to my belly button, then lower, to the soft tuft beneath. My whole body throbs in response, my breath shallow.

When he drops to his knees in the river, my voice escapes into a faint sigh. Half submerged in glowing water, he looks magical. His bare chest is slick with droplets that cling to every carved muscle. His eyes—those silver eyes—burned across the river, locking me in place. My thighs open for him, trembling. He looks up at me, lips hovering over my inner thigh, torturing my skin with the droplets of cold water that fall from his hair. I close my eyes and grab the sand beneath my fingers, waiting to feel him.

Take me.

His now cold hands drifts across my thighs, leaving in their path gleaming droplets of water. His lips plant pats on my legs, slowly making their way to my sex. His tongue flicks over my aching bud and my hips jerk in response. A moan tears from my throat before I can stop it. He hums against me, the sound sending a vibration through my skin that makes my thighs clamp around his head. He parts me gently with his thumb, exposing every aching inch of me to his mouth. His tongue moves with maddening slowness — up, down, a teasing circle that makes my toes curl. I comb my fingers through his dark curls.

“Please,” I whisper, not sure what I’m begging for. More? Less?

But he pauses, moving back slowly. Then, without a word, he disappears beneath the surface. I gasp at the realization of his absence, heart racing. 

“No… come back,” I whisper. But he was gone. Ripples shimmer in the waters. And from the far bank, something steps out. A massive black wolf. Towering. Silent. His fur is impossibly dry, eyes glowing that same molten silver, watching me. He turns and walk toward the woods, disappearing into the trees.

“No. Wait.” I try to follow, stepping into the river, but there was no ground beneath me. Just freezing water. 

I plunged under, and wake with a gasp, soaked in sweat, panting and aching, thighs clenched tight around a desperate, throbbing need. I stumble out of bed, legs weak, skin still buzzing like the dream had branded itself into me.

“Ohhh, my head hurts”.

A headache hits my forehead. The leather clung to my back, damp with sweat, and my thighs feel sticky, heated and slick from the ghost of his mouth on my skin. I quickly strip myself of the dangerous dress.

04: a.m.

I don’t need to check the time. I’ve woken like this enough to know. The bathroom light is too bright when I flick it on, blinding me and sending the headache farther into my brain. I splash a handful of water across my face and sit on the closed toilet seat, elbows on my knees, breathing like I’d run miles. My body is a tight wound spring, coiled with something I can’t release. My sex pulses with an unmet need, a throbbing ache that no dream can satisfy.

Almost every other night, he came to me like this, bold, intense, touchable. And I’d wake up wet, trembling, desperate for more. And tonight for the first time, I asked for more. I shake my head to brush away the shameful thought. I shouldn’t be needing him this bad, begging for his touch. He’s not even real, just something my mind made up.

I hate that I let last night happen, I shouldn’t have ran away. Maybe the touch at the bar awakened something in me, something hungry and unsatisfied that followed me into my dreams. My body perks up at the thought and my mind wanders back to the moonlit river.

I run my hand across my chest, down my body, reenacting his touch. I slide a hand between my legs, the other holding on to the edge of the sink for balance. My fingers are shaking and my sex is already slick with moisture.

Damn Elowen...

I let my eyes flutter shut and picture his mouth again as I run my fingers through the wet slit, his dark hair between my thighs, his lips, just there…

Click.

The front door opens. I freeze.

Shit. Brittany.

I yank back my hand like I’ve been caught stealing. Scrambling to fix my underwear, I tiptoe into bed, pulling the covers over my chin and closing my eyes shut. I hear the sound of the front door lock and muffled footsteps. They stop in front of my bedroom door. I stay frozen, breathing as quietly as I can.

Then….nothing. She walks away.

Not now Elowen, not now.

My heart is still pounding, not from the near-catch, but from everything else. From the ache he left behind. From the sharp, unspoken fear that this was no longer just some dream fantasy.

My body doesn’t just want him anymore. It needs him. And I hate that it’s true.