31. Chapter 31

31

Chapter 31

Darick

I 'm drifting, weightless in a sea of mist. Something's wrong, but I can't put my finger on it. The fog swirls around me, obscuring my vision and muffling sounds.

Suddenly, chaos erupts. The clash of steel on steel pierces through the haze. Battle cries and screams of pain echo from all directions. I try to move, to find solid ground, but there's nothing beneath my feet.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice sounding distant and hollow.

No response.

The mist parts for a moment, revealing flashes of combat. Shadowy figures clash, their forms indistinct and fluid. Are they vampires? Witches? I can't tell.

A familiar scent catches my attention. Rowan. Her presence both calms and unsettles me. I spin, searching for her in the swirling chaos, but the mist closes in again.

The sounds of battle intensify. I want to fight, to protect, but I'm paralyzed. Frustration builds as I struggle against invisible bonds.

"Darick!" Rowan's voice cuts through the din. Is she in danger? I need to reach her, but the mist thickens, becoming almost solid.

The weightlessness increases. I'm falling, or perhaps floating upward. It's impossible to tell in this disorienting haze. The chaos of fighting fades, replaced by an eerie silence.

Something's wrong. This isn't real. But if it's not real, then what is it? A dream? A vision? Or something more sinister?

Rowan materializes before me, her eyes wide with terror. Lucien's pale hands grip her shoulders, his fangs bared in a vicious grin.

"Let her go!" I snarl, lunging forward. But the ground beneath me shifts, and suddenly, I'm knee-deep in mud. The scent of smoke and blood fills my nostrils.

No. Not this. Not again.

The landscape morphs and I'm back in my village. Another place, another time, another…love. Flames lick at thatched roofs; screams rip the air. I spin around, searching desperately. "Ingrid!" I call out, my voice hoarse from the acrid smoke.

A flash of golden hair catches my eye. Ingrid stumbles toward me, her dress torn and bloodied. Relief floods through me, but it's short-lived. A shadowy figure emerges behind her, blade glinting in the firelight.

"No!" I roar, struggling to reach her. But my feet won't move. I'm forced to watch, helpless, as the raider's sword arcs through the air.

The scene shifts again. I'm back in the misty dreamscape, but now it's Rowan in the raider's grasp. Lucien's face replaces the shadowy figure; his usually gray eyes are now black with evil.

"History repeats itself, Darick," he taunts, tightening his grip on Rowan. "You couldn't save her then. You can't save this one now."

I lunge forward again, my fingers barely grazing Rowan's outstretched hand before she vanishes into the mist. Lucien's laughter echoes around me, the taste of ash and failure bitter on my tongue.

I shoot up in bed, my chest heaving as I gasp for breaths that I don't truly need. Sweat beads on my forehead, a relic of my human days that persists even in undeath. The sheets cling to my skin as I run a trembling hand over my face.

It was just a dream.

The relief is fleeting. The images linger, burned into my mind with cruel clarity. Rowan's terrified eyes. Lucien's triumphant sneer. And Ingrid…

God, Ingrid.

A millennium hasn't dulled the pain of her loss.

I slide out of bed, the floor beneath my feet grounding me, anchoring me to reality. But the sense of helplessness remains, coiling in my gut.

"Get it together," I mutter. I've lived through enough not to be undone by a bad fucking dream.

Yet as I rise and walk to the window, flicking the switch to open the automated blinds and pulling back the heavy curtains to reveal the twilight sky, I can't shake the foreboding. The dream felt too real, too prophetic. Rowan's face swims before my eyes, betrayal and fear in her features.

I press my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes.

What is this witch doing to me?

Why does her safety consume my thoughts? It's more than just protecting a valuable blood source. The realization unsettles me.

I stand at the window, watching the last remnants of sunlight disappear beyond the horizon. The dim rays tingle on my skin, a sensation both familiar and foreign. After a thousand years, I've built up enough resistance to withstand these dying moments of daylight, but the full strength of the sun remains beyond my reach.

As darkness settles over the city, my thoughts turn to Rowan. The goddamned dream won't fade. I need to see her, to make sure she's safe. To assure myself that Lucien's threats, even in my subconscious, hold no power in the waking world.

I move away from the window, my decision made. Within moments, I'm dressed in dark jeans and a black tank top, needing to feel the cool air on my heated skin.

"What are you doing, Drake?" I mutter to myself, shaking my head as I stop fighting the compulsion to go to her. This fixation is dangerous, potentially disastrous for both of us. But there's no way around it. I have to see her.

I step out into the night, letting the darkness envelop me. The city's sounds fade as I focus on Rowan's location, picturing her cottage in my mind. I meld into the shadows, moving swiftly and silently through the space between us.

The journey takes just minutes. I materialize on Rowan's patio, the floorboards creaking softly beneath my feet. Her cottage stands before me, warm light spilling from the windows. I can sense her presence inside, her heartbeat a steady rhythm that calls to me.

I close my eyes, reaching out with my mind.

"Rowan," I project, my thoughts slipping into her consciousness. " I'm breaking the rules again."

There's a moment of startled silence, then her mental voice responds, tinged with exasperation. "Rules are no good if you don't stick to them."

"Invite me in," I say aloud into the dusk silence. A soft footfall tells me that she's just on the other side of the door.

"No," she murmurs.

I rest my palm on the wood of the door and lean there for a moment. I can practically feel her. "Open the door," I breathe the words. The rush of relief at knowing she's okay is good…but not enough. I need to see her.

"Why?" Her voice is low.

"Because I want to see you."

I can sense Rowan's hesitation, the confused jumble of emotions. It's clear she's afraid of how she'll react if she lets me in. Hell, I'm not sure how I'll react, either.

"Rowan…" A strange tenderness washes over me. I want to soothe her fears, to show her she has nothing to be afraid of. At least, not from me. The memory of my dream flashes through my mind, and I'm overwhelmed with the need to see her safe and whole.

"Please," I say softly, my forehead resting against the door. "I just need to see you." I splay my palm flat, imagining her doing the same on the other side of the wood panel. I can hear her breathing. Yet another sign that she's all right.

There's a long pause, and then I hear the lock click. The door opens slowly, revealing Rowan standing there barefoot in rumpled gray sweatpants and a soft pink sweater. Her hair is slightly mussed, her glasses pushed up onto the top of her head.

I've never seen anything more fucking lovely.

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, we just stare at each other.

"Come in," she whispers. Two words that mean so much to a man like me.

I can't help myself. In an instant, I've crossed the threshold and swept her up against me. Warm and soft and sweet against my body. My arms wrap around her, clasping her close. I bury my face in her hair, inhaling deeply. She's magical.

Roses and Rowan and magic.

I shut my eyes and heave a deep, contented sigh. The tension that's been coiled inside me since I woke from that nightmare finally begins to ease.

She's here. She's safe.

Nothing else matters.