Chapter 39

Stella

The steady rhythm of the train"s movements lulled me into a sense of security. That and the multiple orgasms I"d had made it impossible for me to keep my eyes open. I couldn"t tell the difference between the aftershocks of pleasure and the gentle rocking of the train as it made its way across No Man"s Land.

Oz"s arms around me felt like a shield against the world. His big body offered warmth and protection that no blanket could match. Contentment washed over me, a feeling of safety and belonging that I had never known before.

I felt like I"d won a marathon and received a gold medal. Like I"d done an excellent school report and received an A+. Like I"d solved world peace and was getting a prize.

Because I"d done it. I"d accomplished the dream I"d never dared dream. I"d found a good man with a good heart who would set me on a pedestal and not leave my side.

As though to punctuate that assertion, Oz squeezed me into his side. He nuzzled his nose into my neck and inhaled. I was fast asleep, but I knew this was happening in reality. My dreams were lucid. The connection between us was strong. So it didn"t surprise me when I saw him inside my mind"s eye.

I found myself in a vast, shadowy space. Unlike the tranquility inside our train car, the air in the dream was thick with tension. Oz was on his knees, his head bowed in submission. Towering over him was a massive jaguar, its fur gold as the sun, its eyes burning with a fierce, angry fire—the pupils black coal.

King Dion.

I"d never met the man. Never seen his face except… in another vision. He was the same man who'd smiled at me in welcome in that other vision. He wasn't smiling down at Oz.

There was a palace in the background. The one I"d seen before, where Oz had taken me in another vision. The two of them were outside the gates. The scent of the forest, damp and earthy, permeated my mind, mingling with a hint of something wild, something primal. The silence was palpable, broken only by Dion"s deep, resonant voice.

"What did I tell you about Stella?" King Dion"s words were like a thunderclap, echoing around us. The golden jaguar moved his lips. The voice that came out was part man, part animalistic growl.

I knew I was dreaming while lying secure in Oz"s arms, but the sound of the panther king"s voice held so much command that I felt my knees buckle back in reality.

Oz"s voice when he spoke was subdued and tinged with regret. "You told me to take care of her."

It took me a minute to realize that it was my name that had come out of the king"s mouth. They were talking about me.

"Is this what you call taking care of her?" Dion"s tone was sharp, cutting through the air.

"Sorry, sire," Oz replied, his posture one of contrition and deference.

"I trusted you with her," Dion continued, his disappointment evident.

The words struck a chord in me, resonating with a haunting familiarity. This conversation was eerily similar to what I"d overheard between Uziah and Ken. The same possessiveness, the same sense of being a pawn in someone else"s game.

"Stella is too important." Dion"s voice was a low growl.

"I know I screwed up," Oz admitted.

This wasn"t a dream. I tried and failed to convince myself it was a nightmare. It was a vision. Deep down, I knew that. What I was seeing in my mind right now was going to happen.

Maybe. Not definitely. I"d been wrong before. Many times.

I wasn"t wrong about Oz. I didn"t doubt that he loved me. That he would fight to the death for me.

It was my fear, my hangups about my past relationships that were mixed in this vision. There might have been some morsel of truth in there. Perhaps the king was angry with Oz over what had happened to me. A lot had happened over the past few days. But Oz wasn"t using me.

He wasn"t.

I made myself toss and turn, trying to break out of the vision and wake myself up. The tendrils of the dream had dug in. Getting my eyes to open was a battle. But I was strong now. I had a jaguar awake inside of me.

I woke with a growl in my throat. The battle to wake was so intense that the roar came out as a whimper. That whimper died in my throat when I saw that I was in bed alone.

I swore I heard fate laughing as the dream dissipated like mist in the morning sun. The compartment was dimly lit. The soft glow of the early morning light filtered through the curtains. Oz"s absence was a cold, empty space beside me, filling me with a sense of unease.

I sat up, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to shake off the remnants of the vision. There was no need to panic. Oz was not using me. The king was likely upset about all the time it was taking to get me to safety.

That wasn"t Oz"s fault. He"d gone above and beyond. I"d make sure King Dion knew that. He"d said that I was important. He had to listen to me.

The train continued its relentless journey, the sound of the wheels on the tracks a constant, unyielding reminder that we were moving forward, toward an uncertain future. Oz"s absence, his silent departure, added to the growing sense of foreboding.

I rose, moving to the window, watching as the world outside came to life with the dawn. The landscape was a blur of colors and shapes, a fleeting glimpse of a world in constant motion.

Then the landscape became more distinct. The train was slowing down. We weren"t in Portland. I knew what I was seeing outside the window was still No Man"s Land.

Ruins dotted the horizon, the skeletal remains of buildings and structures long abandoned to nature"s reclaiming grasp. Vines creeped up crumbling walls and trees growing through shattered windows. The remnants of civilization lay in ruins, overtaken by the unstoppable forces of growth and decay as humanity went extinct and supernaturals pledged themselves to Houses at the outskirts of the continent.

There was an awful sound of nails on a chalkboard. Except it was iron screaming against iron. The train was coming to a halt.

Looking out the window, I saw why. There was a cloud of dust up ahead. It looked like a tornado. But tornados didn"t move like that. They didn"t advance in a straight line.

I dressed quickly, for the second time in my life, not bothering to tailor my ill-fitting clothing, and made my way out of the compartment. The narrow corridors of the train were a scene of frantic activity with passengers rushing around, their voices raised in alarm and confusion. I pushed my way through the throng but still got jostled around.

Someone reached for me and got hold of my upper arm. My mind told me to strike out. But my heart knew who it was.

I turned into the face of the man I loved, a smile growing.

Oz wasn"t smiling. There was a hint of panic in his golden eyes. "They"re coming for you."