Chapter 3

Idream of my sisters calling out my name, calling for me. I dream of strange animal sounds, words I can't understand. Mina screaming for Ali, screaming for me.

Screaming for me to wake up.

Wake up.

I rouse, blinking my eyes open and coming awake with a gasp. My mouth is dry and my forehead's hot. Sweat slicks between my shoulders, and I roll to my side, trying to get comfortable again. I feel strange: tired and stretched thin, my eyes sore from crying. Nightmares aside, I slept deeply, so deeply that I almost forget where I am, that somehow, I managed to sleep outside in the campground. I close my eyes again, starting to drift off again, in that strange no-man's land between waking and dreaming.

I just need a few more minutes.

A lion roars in the distance. I throw my hand over my ear, trying to block out the noise.

Wait.

My heart squeezes in my chest, fear spiking my adrenaline. My eyes snap open, and I look around, scrambling to sitting, my palms behind me.

Mina and Ali are gone. A circle of stones is all that remains from our campfire. Not even ashes. I swallow, my tongue thick in my mouth. Something is wrong about this, and I can't shake the feeling that I haven't been asleep for all that long, despite the morning light.

The lion roars again.

At least, I hope it's the same lion, and not say, a pack of them. I shake my head, like that's going to slide the bizarre feeling from me. But, I mean, I'm in New Mexico, so it's probably a mountain lion? Maybe a bear. Maybe one of the other camper's kids is watching a nature movie. That must be it. Morning cartoons, or a Disney movie on a too-loud tablet. Nothing to be worried about. My hands shake, and I stand on wobbling legs. A wind whips through the canyon.

Maybe Mina and Ali are in the camper. I take a deep breath. The thought reassures me, and I turn towards it, half-sure they're going to jump out with a cup of coffee for me.

My jaw drops, and I whimper.

Bare ground is where my dad's decades-old monstrosity of a camper should be. Rocks and gritty desert soil mark the space, framed by sage and an empty cerulean sky. I look right, where a forest stretches, dark and forbidding. I look left, where a jagged rock formation pierces the blue, a wisp of white cloud disappearing behind it. I don't remember either of those things from last night. Sure, I was out of sorts, but… I look behind me, sure that I'll blink again and it will have been a simple trick of memory.

It's no trick.

The camper is gone.

My pulse picks up. Panic wracks me, sending icy fear spiraling through my veins.

"Mina?" Maybe this is their idea of a prank. I discard the idea immediately. They've never been into pranks, especially not when I'm a vulnerable, shredded mess.

"Ali?" I shriek, all vestiges of normalcy shredded in favor of full-fledged terror. My gaze swipes over the sage bush the camper was parked next to only last night. The leaves are the same bluish green, but the purple flowers… I swallow, backing up, a hand pressed to my throat. The flowers are red.

What the hell is going on?

I must be dreaming. The thought clicks into place, and I shield my eyes against the hazy morning sun. Dream sun. This must be one of those dreams where I think I've woken, and later I'll wake up for real, toasty tight by the crackling campfire and the sound of my sisters snoring or fighting.

My shoulders relax, and I inhale deeply. The air is crisp, dew beading on the sage. Lucid dreaming, since I seem to be mostly in control, my senses in overdrive. Slowly, I exhale, my heartrate slowing. I've always had super intense dreams, vivid and realistic, but this one? It always has made Mina jealous since she can't remember hers. We're both jealous of Ali though, who always seems to get sex dreams. But this dream?

This one takes the cake.

This is really freakin' weird.

The lion roars again, and he sounds close. It could be a lioness, but there's something primal about the sound that tells me it's not. It's my dream anyway, so if it's a male lion? It's because I made it that way.

I trace my hand over the glistening red flowers, reveling in how real everything feels. The dirt is uneven under my flip-flops, and my skin pebbles under the thin pajama short set I fell asleep in. Maybe I should dream some warmer clothes into being. I close my eyes, expecting warmth.

A frown curves my lips down. Nothing's changed. Okay, so not completely in control of the dream.

The roar that echoes around me is ear-splitting, and I clamp my hands around my ears, turning around.

Oh, shit.

"It's not real," I say out loud.

A massive lion stands across what's left of the campground. Or rather, what would be the campground if I weren't dreaming. Sunlight bathes his golden fur, dancing along his dark, burnished ruff. A tufted tail switches behind him as he stalks forward. He's huge. I've never been on safari, so maybe it's just seeing one of these beasts up close, but he's way bigger than anything I ever saw on some nature channel. The word prehistoric comes to mind, and not in a good way.

Very much more in the way prehistoric man must have felt right before they became a snack for a sabretooth.

A frisson of fear skates through my body, the lion's dark eyes locked on mine. I try to relax, unclenching my hands and inhaling deeply. Sure, it's a dream, but dreams shift so fast, from weird surrealism (check) to running-for-your-life horror (god, I hope not).

I stand my ground, watching his approach. That tug in my gut, that sense of déjà vu I felt while watching the stars fall returns, and I wrap my hands around my body. The lion stops right before me, so tall his head reaches my shoulder. His mouth is covered in blood, and I freeze as I smell the coppery scent on his breath. Gross. Why did it have to be blood?

My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and I swallow. The lion makes a chuffing sound, whiskers tickling across my bare arms as he sniffs my skin. A throaty rumble in his chest freezes me in place, and I'm afraid to even blink.

God, I really don't want this to turn into one of those run-for-your-life dreams. The lion stills, even his tail still. I squeeze my eyes shut. If he pounces on me, surely I'll wake up.

The thought doesn't sit right with me. I feel too out of control to be lucid dreaming, too in control to not be. Something isn't right.

I open my eyes, tired of waiting for dream pain that hasn't happened. Unease threads through me. It just feels too real. The lion is still there, regarding me, too interested to be fully cat. For some reason, he doesn't seem cat like at all. Well, besides the fact that he's a giant fucking cat.

I snort, the ridiculousness catching up to me. The lion blinks, then reveals massive fangs as he echoes my sound, chuffing again.

"Hi," I say. "I like cats." It sounds stupid, but the lion rumbles deep in his chest.

And then he pounces, knocking me to the ground. I squeal in fear, and lion's tongue rasps across my skin, sandpaper rough. The ground is dark from his shadow, the heat of his furry body seeping into my chilled skin.

Oh god. He's going to eat me. Lana for breakfast. This is turning into one of those godawful nightmares real fast. I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart thundering against my ribs, as I remember the red ringing his mouth. I'll wake up any minute.

Any minute now would be great.

A great velvet paw turns me over. I hear a rip as the lion shreds the back of my shirt, his claws whispering across my skin. Not deep enough to cut, but I definitely know they're there. A whimper leaves my mouth.

Why can't I wake up?

Hot breath rakes across my shoulder, the low rumble in the lion's chest intensifying.

Then the shadow of the lion falling across my body changes, and my ears pop. I wince, then still again, as fingers mark out something on my shoulder.

Fingers?

This has got to be the weirdest dream I've ever had.

The exploration of my shoulder continues, gentle, as the finger draws lines across my back. Oh. The freckles.

It's something my sisters and I used to do, finding shapes between the freckles on our shoulders. The only place we ever got freckles, which made the clusters of them even more interesting. Must be my subconscious telling me I am happy to be with them again, away from that asshole Brad.

I finally turn, half expecting to see a dream version of Mina behind me.

But it's not.

It's a man. A really naked man. Golden blond hair ruffles out in an unruly tangle around his face. It's a good face, strong and proud, the straight nose and dark brows defining deep blue eyes fringed in long lashes. Handsome as hell. He stares back at me; his pupils so dilated the blue becomes a bare ring around them. The lower half of face disappears under a dark blonde beard, obscuring my view of what looked to be really cut cheekbones. My gaze dips to his junk, and I swallow. The lion-man is super turned on.

Oh. So not one of the run-for-your-life dreams, then.

Maybe my subconscious is telling me something else entirely. Maybe it's finally my turn to see what Ali's been giggling about for years.

"Hi," I say again. For whatever reason, I've never been able to have a sex dream, but could be my luck's about to change.

The man tilts his head at me, the movement not entirely human. His eyes focus on my lips, then skate over the rest of my body. His cock jerks as he surveys me, and I fidget under the perusal.

"I'm Lana," I say, now familiar unease stealing over me. The lion-man tenses, his heated gaze returning to my mouth. My, my, it's a lot of attention. Heat steals over me, like him thinking about my mouth is all it takes to turn me on. Definitely dreaming. It's been so long since I've felt aroused, there's no way this can be anything but a dream. Still, it's weird. Feels too real. I shove the thought aside, making a dream-me decision.

"Laaaaahnah," he repeats, chewing on the syllables.

I sit up, my tee shirt half falling off my shoulder, thanks to the fact he ripped the back to shreds. I crook a finger out to him, and inhale courage, a small smile blossoming. "What's your name?"

Something flickers across his expression, his eyes tightening at the corners before he returns my smile. If he was handsome before, now he's devastating. His teeth are white and even, though his canines seem a little longer than most normal man. The blood I saw on the lion's muzzle is gone, and I thank my lucky stars my dream decided to delete that detail.

I'm surprised at my brain's attention to detail in a dream. Mental alarms go off, but I shrug it off. The chill air smooths over my bare shoulder, and I shiver.

The lion-man is on me in a second, his erection pressing against my hip.

"Oh," I manage.

His arms cradle me, and I stiffen as I realize he's smelling my hair. His arms skate across my back, and I shiver again, though for an entirely different reason. The coarse hair of his beard tickles my neck, and then his tongue, still rough, slides across the hollow under my ear.

Good grief, it feels amazing.

I arch into him, my nipples hard underneath the thin cotton of my shirt. My hands lace around his neck, and his fierce blue eyes never leave mine.

I'll wake up soon. I've never been able to have a sex dream, they always break off before I can get down and dirty, unfortunately for me. So why not kiss? Why not enjoy it?

It's been long enough since I've enjoyed kissing.

I pull his head down to me, and grin as I realize, despite looking like a human, he's still making that low cat rumble in his chest.

"You like that, huh?" I ask, our mouths so close now that his breath gusts over my lips. A little flirting never hurt anyone.

Tentative, I brush my lips against his. They're warm, and soft, and the coarse gold of his beard scratches across my chin. He hasn't moved, his body tense. If it weren't for the massive hard-on, I'd wonder if he was even into me. But it's like he's scared, like he wants me to take the lead. I mean, that makes sense, since I'm dreaming. It would be nice to take the lead in a romantic relationship, considering what I've just escaped from.

I brush against his lips again, then lick the seam of them, my chest rising and falling as the desire curling through me intensifies.

The feeling of my tongue against his lips unleashes something in him, and his arms cage my body, the gentle strokes turning to firmer pressure. I moan, and he captures the sound with his mouth.

Oh my god ohmygod this has to be the best kiss of my life. My split lip is sore, even in my dream, but he's gentle against me. His tongue is rough, still cat-like, and the way it slides against mine feels obscene. I squirm, his erection pressing harder against my stomach.

One of his hands finds my breast, and I moan again as he grasps it, then tweaks my nipple. Wetness saturates between my legs, and he gives a low growl of approval. At least, it seems like it is, considering he hasn't said anything besides slowly repeating my name.

The alarm bells in my head sound again. I'm practically panting with need, something I don't think has ever happened before in my life, not even in a dream.

I push my hands against his chest, but it's like trying to press a concrete block. Lion dude isn't going anywhere.

"Stop." Fear spikes in me again, but he stops, pulling away from the kiss, watching me. This is too vivid for a dream. I've never been this aware in a dream.

My brain is trying to tell me something.

I inhale deeply, taking stock. He smells of damp earth, of fur and musk and sunshine. It's not a bad smell, and I breathe it in. I like the way it smells. It clouds my thinking, though, sending fresh waves of desire rushing through me.

I shift my weight, putting a hand-out to support me. My palm catches on a rock, slicing it across the thumb.

"Shit," I say, bringing it back up. Blood wells from the cut, running in a slow drip.

The lion-man growls, and if I look at him from the corner of my eye, I can see the shape of a lion hovering over him. It's like double vision. I swing my full focus back to him. His fangs seem to be elongating, and he grabs my hand.

I don't know what I expect him to do, but it isn't licking the cut clean. I freeze in his arms, the unexpected attention sending off more alarms. And, I'm embarrassed to say, it's kind of sexy. I must be out of my mind.

He stops licking, looking up at me. His pupils are so blown, the blue is hardly noticeable. "Lana," he breathes. "Mate."

It's my turn to tilt my head. My eyebrows rocket up. "You want to mate? Like, have sex?"

He shakes his head, making a frustrated growl. He presses his hand against my chest, and it's so big it nearly covers me entirely.

"Lana mate."

"I'm Lana Kit." I don't bother with my last name because it doesn't matter, not in a dream. His eyes narrow, determination clear in the set of his brows.

"Alnitak." It's a growl, and the clear pronunciation catches me off guard. Definitely dreaming, seeing as how no partner of mine has ever figured out the weird anagram meaning of my name. "Mate."

Quicker than I can blink, he turns me over, my stomach parallel with the ground. His arm closes around my waist, drawing my hips up, my knees still on the ground. My entire body clenches in arousal, moisture slicking between my legs, as his erection prods against me. One hand cradles me against his huge, muscled body while the other dips into my pajama shorts.

It's hot against my skin, and he nips my neck as his fingers delve under my waistband. I gasp, disbelief and alarm and fear suddenly outweighing heady desire. His broad hand, making tiny circles on my hip pauses, and I shudder against him despite myself.

I've never had a sex dream in my life that got further than kissing. My brain has been trying to tell me this the entire time, since I woke. The warning bells I've ignored, the blood slowly oozing from my palm, the pain there, the building ache in between my legs.

I'm not dreaming. Panic rushes through me, blackening the edges of my vision.

A scream tears from my throat, and I push against his chest, scrambling away from him.

This is real.