The Dream Crafter(11)

Take the man from yesterday. Everything about him was beautiful, exciting in ways she hadn’t known she liked until she saw it on him.

The smile, and those biceps, and the smooth tones of his voice as he talked to her, and the looks he gave her, banked heat and appreciation in his gaze, but it was more than that. His words and actions were respectful of her, giving her space, always waiting that one moment before making another move to make sure she was comfortable with him progressing.

Not many men she was around on a daily basis bothered with that. To them, she was a piece to play with and display, and if her wants even entered their minds for a moment, she’d keel over in shock.

Longing swept over her, a craving to be near him, to let the hollowness of this day fade in his presence. If she had to use this damn power, she wanted to use it to get to him.

Let this power give her at least one good thing in this life. Let her have one happy memory associated with it.

The thick black markings on his arms came to her mind. As a rule she didn’t like tattoos, considering the ones she was most associated with meant gangs and warfare, but his sparked something primal in her. The way they highlighted and curved over the thick muscles of his arms, on him it only spoke strength, a primitive show of superiority, a bold display of power.

How much of his body was covered by those lines? There was a hint of tattoo under his hair at the neckline, which she saw when the wind lifted it for only a moment. Which meant his back had to have at least some amount of ink as well. How far down would it go? Would it only be at the tops of his shoulders, or would it trail down the length of his torso, beckoning the gaze to follow the line of his back?

He was in front of her now, in a sleeveless t-shirt, the lines of those tattoos stark against the white fabric. He had such wide shoulders it created a noticeable V as they led to a slim waist, and the only word that came to mind to describe his rear end under those grey sweats was plush, waiting to be bit into like a juicy piece of fruit.

As if he sensed her staring he turned, surprise and confusion and joy and suspicion warring to become the prominent emotion on his face. He looked down at his arms, head moving in wide sweeps as he took in the limbs. With that done, only joy and surprise remained in his expression, and a smile made of equal parts sensual and delighted took over his face. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

She’d done it. She’d gone into a dream on purpose.

Fear leapt at her with unexpected force, blossoming in her chest with this first use of power in so long. Now was her turn to look around, to look for danger, to see what she invited with this use of power.

Yet there was no other, nothing hanging along the edges, ready to strike out at her the moment she let down her guard. It seemed she was safe. Just maybe, she was safe.

Giddiness – with this victory, with this meeting – suffused her voice. “I couldn’t wait to see you.” It was true. The only person outside of her family she had ever felt that way about, and with only one meeting she felt secure with him, a deep-seated happiness that was, without explanations as to why. It just was, and she needed that so much today.

“Glad I’m here to oblige then.” He tipped an imaginary hat towards her, the chivalrous gesture both ridiculous and endearing, and a swell of delight rose through her.

He held his hand out to her, and as her fingers entangled with his, the scenery around them changed to a city street on a summer day, the tantalizing smell of spices and roasting meat heavy in the air, dark-skinned children running past them barefoot, laughing as they kicked a ball around the group and evading the scolding adults they occasionally ran into. “Where are we?”

“A place I like,” he said, pulling her down the street as he placed her hand in the crook of his arm, settling her against him in a protective movement.

It was the first time with her power that the other person had any say in the surroundings, and she still wasn’t sure how it had happened. There had been nothing concrete, nothing in her own mind that told her to shift here.

“Is everything okay?” The concern in his voice brought the threat of tears, and she didn’t want to cry, not again. But he was the only one who had showed concern, and tenderness, and it was so tiring being alone all the time.

“No.” The word slipped out before she could think, before she could remind herself trusting others was never a good idea, even in a dream. “No, it’s not.”

He nodded, but said nothing, only brought her in closer to his body. There were no false words of how everything would be fine, no admonishing her to look at the good side, or spoken promises to fix things. It was instead silent comfort, and it soothed her in a way nothing had for a very long time.