5. The Protector

"I have to say, I'm proud of you," a male voice murmurs as I open my eyes. The first thing I see is a vast, clear blue sky stretching endlessly above with no clouds in sight. The air carries the sweet scent of cotton candy, evoking a distant childhood memory I can't quite place.

Then, I feel the grass beneath me. Running my hand through the green carpet, I feel each blade gently prickling me—not hard enough to hurt, but not soft enough to feel like a cushion. It feels freshly cut.

It's only when I realize I'm lying on the grass that I try to sit up, moving my elbow to push myself up. But as I attempt to lift myself, I realize I can't. Something is holding me down.

"Stay," the voice says again. I recognize it instantly—Echo. How could I forget him? "You deserve some rest after everything you've been through." Though I can't see him, I sense his presence, a shadow at the edge of my vision, too blurry to make out.

"But I want to see you," I protest, my voice taking on a whiny tone I despise. Yet, what can I do? It just slips out of me without a filter.

He chuckles softly. "Of course you do. How about I come on top of you then?"

My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes. "What do you mean, ‘on top of me'?" I manage to ask, swallowing hard. Echo is incredibly attractive, but there's more to it—a magnetic pull between us I can't ignore. I felt it last time, and it's just as strong now.

"How about I just show you?" His voice turns husky and playful, thick with innuendo that dances on the cotton candy breeze. I breathe it in, tasting its sweetness.

I bite my lip and nod, feeling my fingertips tingle. I focus on staying calm, not wanting my usual awkwardness to ruin this moment. The strangeness within me never seems to stay quiet for long, always threatening to push people away. But not now. Not him.

Echo's scent mingles with the cotton candy aroma, and I feel the warmth of his body near my legs. I clench the grass, my emotions spilling out as my chest rises and falls rapidly. Finally, he places his hands on the ground beside my shoulders, and I look up at his face.

"Like this," he breathes, a smirk on his handsome face, strands of hair falling across his forehead, and freckles dotting his nose. That smirk disarms me, even though I feel like I'm about to explode.

I inhale sharply at his closeness and let out a shaky breath as my eyes drift to his bare chest. "Echo," I whisper, unsure what to say. Seeing him like this above me does strange things to me.

"Claire," he says, cocking an eyebrow. He seems to sense how he affects me. Does he know the full extent of it? That my body feels like an iceberg melting into flowing water? "You're here."

"I'm here," I repeat. Staring into his deep blue eyes, logic slowly returns to me. "But, umm, where is here, exactly?"

His eyes narrow, the cat-that-got-the-canary smile still on his lips. It falters briefly but quickly returns. "Oh, did you forget already?" he asks, tilting his head to expose his neck. It's a beautiful neck. "You're in the land of dreams, silly. You're sleeping."

My mouth drops open. Part of me wants to laugh, to play it cool, but another part panics, like I'm tied to train tracks with an oncoming train. That's what Echo's words do to me. They make me rattle suddenly, and I start taking quick, shallow breaths against my will.

"Hey, easy," he murmurs above me, his gaze still narrowed. His voice, though... His voice is the most calming, soothing sound I've ever heard. It seems to sink into my bones and make my muscles relax. "Easy there, Claire. It's not a bad thing. It's all good. It's much better than good. Just think about it."

I do. I listen to him. Staring into his deep blue eyes, I release the grass and put one hand on my chest, feeling a heartbeat beneath my fingertips. There is one. Just... a little slower than I'd expect.

"Right," I say slowly. "It's a good thing, but…"

"No buts," he interrupts, his breath tickling my skin. I swallow hard. "This is a victory."

My eyebrows draw together, but I nod slowly, never breaking eye contact. His deep blue eyes help me stabilize. It's like I'm the raging ocean and he's the moon, guiding me gently with his pull.

I've never felt anything like this before—an invisible force I can't deny. As I do, memories rush to the surface—ones I should have had but didn't.

Me, sitting in a circle drawn on the floor, with Camilla chanting next to me. Shadows dancing, lights flickering, my reflection moving in the mirror. Bad moments. Terror, despair, and pain lined all of them.

"Could you... could you get off me for a moment?" I ask, feeling a sudden need to sit up and rub my temples.

Back in the day, when I was a small girl who liked to tap into the unknown, I had powerful, lucid dreams. I could fly, make walls crumble, and build new ones. I could create entire realities and be a queen in them.

I liked to escape reality this way. I liked to feel peace.

But this feeling now is nothing like that awakening, power, and freedom. This one is more crippling. Instead of making me feel like I can spread my wings, it clips them further.

Because sleep has long since stopped being a safe sanctuary. Somewhere along the way, with all that happened between my mother and me, and my escape to the city, to Camilla's house, sleep became a horrid necessity. And then... it became my downfall. Once a land of wonders, it became an inaccessible realm. One that rejected me the moment I rejected it.

It's like I was exiled.

"Of course," Echo purrs, looking at my lips and licking his own. Then, after giving me a last longing look that makes me hold my breath, he moves to the side and lies on the grass next to me.

The blue sky comes back into view, not a single cloud in sight. I blink at it, disbelieving it's not real, before I sit up straight, my head whirring.

"We are in a park," I say, surprise coating my voice.

Echo nods, stretching out beside me, his arms folded behind his head as he gazes up at the sky.

"Yes, a park. A nice and peaceful place, right?"

I look around, taking in the surreal beauty. It's too perfect, too serene. There's a cotton candy truck a few feet away. In front of us, swings hang from a large playground that slopes gently downhill.

No wonder all I could see was the vast blue sky. We're sitting higher than everything else around, on elevated ground above it all.

It reminds me of summer and happiness. But it also reminds me of something else.

"Right. Nice and peaceful," I mutter under my breath as I stand up. Instantly, my head spins, and black spots dance before my eyes. It's like I've stood up too fast. But… "It's weird," I murmur. "I feel weak."

Echo smacks his lips behind me and hums a little before he stands up too and glances at me from the side.

Echo smacks his lips behind me, humming a little before he stands and glances at me sideways. "It's not weird at all. You've just realized you're in a dreamscape while hosting another entity. Plus, you're a pretty tired human, Claire. When exhaustion stretches over days, it seeps into your subconscious. And for you, it's been…?"

"A year," I finish his sentence. Right. I've struggled to sleep for nearly a year now. If I saw a doctor, he'd probably say my life is in danger. Nobody can survive without sleep for that long. That's why I'm actually grateful for the amnesia episodes. I assume those memory blanks I have from time to time mean I've dozed off just enough to keep going.

And now... now I'm sleeping full-time. More importantly, I'm dreaming. If I stay here for at least two hours, my REM phase is guaranteed.

There's no fucking way I'm leaving this place.

"A year." Echo whistles. "That is a really, really long time."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Placing both hands on my temples, I rub them while taking slow, deep breaths. I'm not sure if calming myself this way will work since the dizziness might just be another fragment of my imagination, but I try anyway. To my surprise, it helps. Once the dizziness fades and I feel steady on my feet, I wonder how this is possible. Is this all really a figment of my imagination?

The cotton candy air feels warm in my lungs, my mouth waters, and my skin prickles under the sun's heat. My muscles stretch as I rotate my head, and my lips feel dry when I run my tongue over them.

All the sensations feel real—maybe even more than real. It's like someone turned up the intensity of everything I'm feeling: pleasure, taste, need, smell, want… Impulses seem almost unstoppable. I feel this overwhelming need to try to forsake reason. I can't prove it yet, but I know I don't have the same filter here as I do in the real world.

Real world… How abstract is it to even think of my life this way?

I look around and take the surroundings in. This place really does seem peaceful. No people, just nature and enough concrete to make the playground fun. Balanced. My eyes land on the swings, and I feel an urge to walk over to them. And so, I do, partially because I can't resist, but also because, even if I could, I wouldn't. Since I'm already sleeping and this isn't real, what's the harm? I can do anything I want here.

"I want to go on the swing," I say over my shoulder as my legs carry me down the slope. The grass is blissfully thick and dry enough to keep me stable, but I still feel a rush in my chest like I'm doing something completely ridiculous. "You coming with me?"

As Echo stands up and gives me a disarming smile, the rush turns into butterflies, and I pick up my pace, chuckling out loud. I don't know why I do it or where the ridiculous happiness comes from, but I embrace it fully. I'll worry about things later, when I'm awake.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he says. In a blink, he's right behind me, his eyes gleaming with excitement. I glance over my shoulder and see him almost on my heels, his forearm muscles tensing with each stride. He's wearing a purple polo shirt and black slacks, looking every bit the wealthy, sought-after man I remember from our last encounter.

I can't help but wonder—is this just his style, or did I somehow shape him like this since he's my guardian spirit? Either way, it's hilarious to see a guy like him chasing me around a children's playground. It gives me delightfully happy goosebumps.

A moment later, he catches me, wrapping his arms around my middle and lifting me into the air like I weigh nothing. Perhaps here I do.

"Echo!" I scream, laughter bubbling up. "What are you doing?"

"You were running away from me, weren't you?" he says directly into my ear, his voice gruff and low, completely at odds with his polished appearance. His scent—aged wood, black pepper, and a hint of a winter night—mixes oddly yet wonderfully with the cotton candy aroma. I lick my lips over the last wave of a chuckle.

"No, I wasn't," I lie. Yes, I was running away from him. There's no denying that, and he knows it too.

"That was a very bad, bad thing to do, Claire," he murmurs, pulling my body close. I feel the firmness of his chest, stomach, thighs. And maybe something else I shouldn't be thinking about, but...

Impulses. They're just little zaps in the brain, often nonsensical blips. Sometimes, though, they mirror deep-rooted needs. Like the impulse now making me press my butt against him. It's been way too long since I've been with a man, and my body craves the sensation.

"I never said I was a good girl, Echo," I reply coyly, before I can second-guess myself.

He chuckles, his body shaking slightly, the warmth of our contact making my lips part.

"Right," he quips in a low voice. "You only want your men to tell you that."

Without warning, he releases me right then and there. My jaw pops open, a crimson flash of heat coming to my cheeks. I stay rooted as he saunters to the swing alone, a confident sway in his stride.

"What did you just say?" I ask, my eyebrows shooting up toward the baby blue sky. He turns, not stopping his walk, his dimples showing in a self-satisfied smirk.

Should guardian spirits act like this? Should they lace their words with sexual innuendos and evoke the desire to be undressed by their humans? Should they be so devilish, with smiles that melt panties and clench abdomens? Or do I just have a peculiar one?

"I'm in your subconscious, Claire," Echo says, twirling his finger to indicate this realm. "I'm in your head. You'd be surprised at all the things I have access to."

My dad used to say, "Don't leave your mouth hanging open, or a fly will buzz right in." That was before he left us, of course. I guess I never listened to his advice anyway. Now is not any different.

"You read my mind?!" I finally manage to say.

Echo's laughter rings out, dark and mischievous. He leans against the swing's leg, arms crossed over his chest.

"With pleasure," he shrugs. "That's where all the interesting stuff happens. Plus, I need to know you to work with you, don't you think?"

I scoff, looking away briefly, my own arms crossing over my chest in mimicry. Apparently, when you like someone, you just start copying their actions.

"You could have, I don't know, just tried the old-fashioned way," I say, looking back at him. His hair catches the sunlight, shimmering slightly, and his eyes look darker than their usual metallic shade against the bright sky.

"And what? Wait around until you agree to play twenty questions with me just so I can protect you from your sickness?" He raises an eyebrow, challenging me.

"Okay, wait a minute," I say, raising my hands and swallowing hard. The mention of my sickness makes my head spin. "Protection is one thing. Snooping about my sex life is another entirely."

Just as the words leave my mouth, Echo smirks and licks his canines, sending me reeling.

"What sex life?" he asks, grinning. "You got any?"

Oh, my god…

"Ouch," is all I manage to say. My cheeks burn—they must be beet red. But something else is burning too: my blood rushing angrily to my abdomen. Just hearing Echo mention the word "sex" does weird things to me. It also makes me more embarrassed about my abstinence; I wish I were less rusty in those intimate arts right now because this... spirit... he excites me.

Echo chuckles again. "There's no reason to feel embarrassed," he says. "Want to hear the bright side? I know everything there is to know about you. And guess what?"

I press my lips into a thin line and take a deep breath before nodding. I'm not sure I actually want to hear it. Echo is proving himself to be the astral equivalent of a bad boy in a nice wrapper.

"What?" I ask, shifting my weight. Sand crunches under my boot as I move.

"I still like you."

His words hang in the air, surprisingly tender against his playful arrogance. It catches me off guard, brushing away some of the worry built inside me. I just stare at him, wondering what the hell is going on. Butterflies rummage through my stomach, chest, and heart. My nipples turn hard like little pebbles because of this unexpected bright side.

"You still like me?" I echo, puckering my lips and stepping forward. He just smiles, no insecurity, no blushing.

"Yeah, don't look so shocked," he says. "You're a fun person, Claire."

"Fun," I repeat.

My mind races, processing everything hidden inside it. There's so much I wouldn't want someone like Echo to know, so much I'd want to hide forever. But apparently, he's already seen it all, and he still likes me. That's... a relief, I think.

A lightness in my chest battles with the embarrassment, but I know which will stick around longer. Which I've been craving more over the past year.

"Anyway, let's not get sidetracked," Echo says. "I'm not here just because you're fun. I'm here because you're fighting a battle few can understand, and you shouldn't have to face it alone."

He doesn't have to explain what it is he's talking about. It's clear. My sickness. My inability to fall asleep on my own. The elephant in the room.

"Right," I quip, nodding curtly. "Right, you're my guardian spirit. My protector."

He flashes another perfect, dimpled smile before pointing at the swing. It's a clear indicator the topic is over, and I'm grateful. I don't want to talk about my insomnia here, in this heaven of a dream. What I'm not grateful for are his next words that send a spiral of heat through me.

"Want me to rock you?" he asks, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

If Echo the Protector is supposed to do more than just help me sleep—if he's supposed to shield me from sudden, crazy feelings, for example—then I'm doomed. Just having him next to me stirs up a whole bunch of new emotions. I mull over that thought for a second before my steps carry me toward him and the swing.

But then, something entirely different catches my eye, and my head starts spinning again. There, on the leg of the swing, is a weathered sticker. A plain, small thing, looking like a piece of white paper glued to a metallic frame.

Except, I know it's not.

It's a sticker with a blue pony and a name written in pretty golden cursive.

Claire.

I know because I planted it there many full moons ago. When I was just a little girl with her little stickers and a mother who temporarily cared.

I know because it's mine.