I shut my eyes as the car moves quietly through the streets. David Malcom had agreed that I would need a few weeks to come up with my next move, I needed time to decide if this city required more help and to figure out what influenced the weather. 

We would be under the protection of the government, within reason. Upon the completion of my next event, we would receive our remaining friends. Marcello warned me, in the privacy of the car, that that might be months away. 

Since lycans were illegal, their shifting on public property was banned though we did have permission to use the parking garage below the building we are assigned for exercise. Somehow, I struggle to find any joy in the idea of wolves trapped in an underground, concrete box. 

My mind is adrift as we climb out of the vehicles and get, once more, into the elevator that lifts us to the top floor of what Marcello calls an apartment complex. He agreed it would be best to separate ourselves from the compound, still going there at times but conducting most of our work where the government could see we were working to achieve our goal. 

"No respirators needed today."

Artifice chimes as the doors slide open, and we enter the complex. Tyler follows me, his arm wrapped firmly around Helen, who is on the brink of tears. Tonic and Reid are next; Reid watches the floor as if in a trance, finding a chair and slowly sitting down. 

Marcello and Rhea are last; silence falls over us as I slowly sit, and what felt like a victory now feels like a funeral. 

"Eddie?" I ask.

Marcello shakes his head. 

"Where are Randy and Marisol?" Rhea asks. 

"Detained," Marcello responds for me. "We'll get them back after we complete another 'miracle'." He slides onto one of the bar stool chairs and runs his hand over his closely shaven head. "We have plenty of time to think of something else, I think everyone needs to take a few days to decompress. This was tough, for all of us." 

The words make me sick. Decompress. Was I allowed to decompress after any of our battles? Was I allowed time off after I was brutally raped? Was I permitted space after discovering the truth about what had happened the last night in our own time? 

Time waited for no one; if I had learned anything it was that the march of time was prompt and on schedule if you wanted her to be or not. 

I straighten in my seat, "There is no time to decompress. We have to get started, tonight if we can." I tell them, and yet, I'm met with exhausted expressions and the familiar groan of sore bodies. 

"I'm sorry, forgive me, but why did you pick Reid instead of Verando?" Rhea demands. 

Reid waves her off. "I'm wondering that myself." He allows. 

"I understand Helen." Rhea gestures to the trembling girl. "But Reidy is more than capable of handling jail. You let them keep the other piece to this puzzle. Did you forget you drew power off the wolf? You used it that night, I saw it on the news, your eyes were blue-" She exhales in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Tonic says Verando will die if you draw too much. Then what? What makes you think any of those officials will revive a dead lycan?" 

Truthfully I wasn't thinking about it that way. It all happened so quickly; how was I supposed to argue when I didn't even want to speak to him? He was different, he was apologizing, he took me off guard, and I didn't expect Helen to look so pitiful. 

"I understand you are upset with him-"

My head snaps up, and I narrow my eyes at her. "Do not act like I did this over some lover's quarrel!" I shoot at her, standing up now. "I did this because he told me to. I did this because it was the right thing to do."

Rhea laughs at me, a sickening sound that makes my blood boil and my temper soar. "Nic, you are a terrible liar. You've brought us Helen, who can't control shit, and Reid who hardly even uses the wolf anymore. The one person who could have helped Helen is in a jail cell. Tell him. Tell him what they do to you in there." 

Marcello shoves the chair out from under him, standing abruptly. "Rhea, stop it." He thunders, silencing the room. 

She juts out her chin defiantly, shaking her head. "Look around you. Look at those two and tell me you didn't do it because you're pissed off that you're actually not as special as you thought you were. Kitten is back in his life, you're damned lucky all he did was kiss her. As for Anuetta, I'm sure there's a lot he's not telling you, and I bet it isn't the thoughts of his cock." 

The verbiage takes my last shreds of patience, and I stomp on the ground. A surge of ice flings from me to her, freezing her feet as I storm toward her. 

Trying to free her feet, she jerks, and struggles, and in a quick motion, I open my hand and stretch the ice higher up her legs. "Keep your thoughts to yourself and stay out of my marriage!"

 The room is deadly quiet, save for our breathing. 

She takes a calming breath, straightening as she stops her attempt at freedom. "Funny. Gay marriage isn't even allowed in your time and last I heard, you married and fucked a Serbian, unless history was wrong? So you aren't married, and you aren't innocent; funny how you have that double standard, Your Highness." 

I want to strike her down, I'm seeing red, my body heats up, and I stop myself. I almost used, I was so angry, that I could feel the wolf building in me. As my eyes search the room, I see that everyone is staring at me and they aren't expressions of admiration. I drop the ice, a puddle of water on the floor. 

The return of humidity should excite me, and yet, I want nothing to do with these people. I just want to be alone. 

I claim a room as my own and lock myself in, I cry, I scream, and I throw things in a manner that is most unlike my breeding. All I can do is let it all out, I attack a nightstand and destroy it as entirely as I can. 

Dissecting it, limb from limb, I tear it down and break it into a shell of its former self. I snatch a pillow, ripping it from its fibers and gutting it. I ball up my fist and punch the full-length mirror perched in the corner. I tear the sheets of the bed, I would rip the paint off the walls if I could only fathom it. 

Falling onto the abused bed, my world darkens, and I slip into fitful rest. 

I sit quietly in that small room; the train boxcar rolls along lazily, pulling the shade down I sit on the full-sized bed. Of course, I would dream of a train, tonight of all nights. I'm startled by the slamming of drawers, and when my eyes flick up, I see his reflection in the window. 

Verando's putting away our clothes, grumbling to himself as he folds them and puts them into their assigned drawers. I remember this, I was too injured to act on my impulses but the way the room brought us so closely together, I recall regretting my injuries for more reasons than their discomfort. 

But today, I don't hurt.

It's easier this way, to watch him in the window. His outfit looks so much more like my warlord, the frock and snug pants, his tall boots, and the pale blues of his vest. He hadn't cheated on me yet, he was still mine in this realm. 

I sniffle, wiping my eyes and grabbing my pillow to cuddle with as I enjoy this little moment of happiness. I could stay here and watch this all night, pretending this whole thing was a dream and I'd wake up on that boxcar tomorrow morning. I might give anything for a do-over.

"Are you still upset with me?" He asks. 

I freeze, glancing over my shoulder. 

"What?"

"For making you choose?" 

I swallow hard, my eyes searching this room for any indication that I had dreamwalked yet this all feels like my dream. I laugh sadly at myself.

"I guess I wasn't done yelling at you, I had to imagine you here and ruin my own happiness to scream at you some more." 

It feels silly now. I think about Rhea's words, I slept with Fillipa; it was almost as if she inclined he should get a free pass. Could I do that? It didn't seem to work that way, I didn't want to sleep with Fillipa. 

"You don't have to speak to me, my dreams never quite match the original." I wave him off, crossing my legs in front of me. 

"So, you dream about me?" 

I shoot him a stern look, it is pretty unusual that he's talking this much. Usually dream Verando is only suitable for a few things, inducing a tremendous amount of frustration mentally and sexually. 

"Do you want me to go?"

I purse my lips. "Are you actually here?"

He shrugs. "I don't know....? You tell me."

Cautiously, I slide to the corner of the bed and take him in. The short distance puts me directly in front of him. Just as he did in the memory, the train bumps, and his hands grasp the top railing of the handholds to secure his position. It proceeds to convince me that this is just a very talented dream thought up by my significantly damaged brain. 

I shake my head at myself, disappointed in my desperation. "Nic, you're a piece of work..." He's still watching me, silent as he gages my expression. I sigh; this dream Verando wouldn't understand my aversion. "You don't have to go. Sit down."

Obediently, he sits beside me, I grumble at the lack of space and scoot to the other end of the bed as he slides off his boots and shuts his eyes in relief. I steal a glance, taking in that clean profile, only the tiniest deviation at the top of the bridge of his nose from where it was reset.

 "I..." Get a hold of yourself, Nic. But, I have no pride here; this is only a dream. "I saved the city."

He looks surprised, raising an eyebrow as he regards me. "You did?"

I nod. "The magic I took from Alpha was enough to create the storm. I blew the smog away onto the ocean to dissipate, and the rain was enough to keep it down. The sun is shining." I look away in embarrassment; I'm pathetic. Truly pathetic, trying to get approval from a figment of my imagination.

Reaching over, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I knew you could do it." 

How would he know? I suppose it was a reiteration of myself; I believed in myself, therefore, this version believed in me. I relish in the warmth of his hand on mine.

"I don't think I need your approval," I tell him point blank, sliding my hand out of his.

"Never said you did. I think you need me much less than you think." Pulling off his frock, he stands to hang it up, working on the buttons of his vest. 

I do. As much as this hurts, I'm doing okay. My pulse is steady, and my emotions are in check. Turning my attention back out the window, I'm free to watch him without surrendering to the fact that I can't look away. 

"I'm doing this all on my own. Without you. I'm making plans, I'm leading our group, I'm making the hard decisions."

 He says nothing, nodding in acknowledgment as he slips off the vest. The silence is deafening, and I turn around sharply, grabbing his belt to spin him around and yank him to me. His expression is bewildered as he looks down at me. 

"Why did you do it? Why did you sleep with Anuetta?!"

"I didn't want to kill her." He sounds unsure as if he doesn't understand why I couldn't see that. 

"You kill everyone else?! You're killing me! She was a horrid person, why? Why not just kill her? Why do this to me?!" I demand of him; I climb his clothes, pulling so harshly on his belt that he must grasp the overhead rails to stay upright. 

He falls silent, taking me in. "I can't tell you."

"Of course, you can't! You can't tell me anything. You keep everything from me; you hide everything from me. You say I have every piece of you, but in reality, it's only the pieces you want me to have!" 

I feel it bubbling to the surface again, the sob building in my throat. I slap him, half-hearted as it may be. 

"I'm so. Angry. With you!" I shout at him. "Yell at me!" I command him.

 Verando says nothing, watching me with such concern that it only spurs my rage. I shove against his chest, my vision blurry from the emotion as I feel a strangled sob bubble up.

"I hate you! I hate you for doing this to me! For doing this to us!" I might as well be fighting against stone; my arms curl around his neck, and I cry into his chest: that steady rise and fall, the pounding of his heart, the warmth of his body. 

I clutch him, stretching on my toes to reach him. "How am I going to forgive you for this?" I finally murmured, peering up at him to see that terrorized look in return.

"You don't." He finally responds, his voice barely audible. "You deserve so much better than this." 

I tried before to quit him when I dated Marcus what felt like an eternity ago. It was excruciating, seeing him with someone else, seeing him happy with someone else. Producing Rowan with Penelope, I never forgave myself - or him- for allowing that to happen. 

"Just tell me," I beg him. "Tell me. Tell me why you did it. I want to understand. Make me understand." I'm met with only silence. "Are you trying to push me away? Again? Me? Of all people?" 

Finally, I have to just laugh, because he's a dream, and he can't possibly know what I don't know. I reach up to touch his face. Do I know him so well to know that he would choose my happiness over his own? Brushing my thumb over his cheekbone, taking him in, I slowly allow my lungs to deflate as I settle against him. 

"You're just a dream." I remind us both. 

"Am I?" He asks me again.

I nod. "Afraid so. A figment of my sick imagination. I'm obsessed with you in a pretty unhealthy way. But I can't stop, so I must bring you here. Look-" I kiss him chastely. "See? We don't even have to fight here. None of this matters... it's all in my head."

 The familiar look burns me to my very core, igniting a flame that makes my heart skip a beat. I had been doing so well, yet he was before me, setting me ablaze. My lips parted, and I slowly untangled my arms as I inhaled through my teeth. This wasn't part of the dream. 

"None of this matters?"

I think better of it; I should tell him to go. I should finish the dream, as that night, we did not stay together, as he was too upset to be with me, and I was in too much pain to share the bed. But here I am, before him, my hands clutching his shirt.

 "Are you real?" I ask him as his lips near mine, hesitating, uncertain as I am of the authenticity of the other. My thumb drags over his lower lip, I will him to confirm for me that he is, in fact, a conscious being.

"You said this is a dream." He reminds me; I pull him closer to me, stretching onto my tiptoes to hover as close as dare to that sinful mouth. His lips parted, desperate for contact, and I sigh breathlessly, shutting my eyes as if willing him. 

If this is a dream, then what am I waiting for? I could use this to my advantage; I could allow this to be my last entry into this chapter of our lives. A proper goodbye, a final dose of a drug that had become too potent for me. 

"That's not an answer..." I challenge him, shivering at the growl that curls through his throat. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"More than the air I breathe-" His lips meet mine, and I melt against him, pulling him firmly to me as I savor his taste. My body no longer yields to his; I hold my own against him, curling one of my legs around his as he clutches me with his free hand, the other supporting us on the overhead rail. 

At the time, all I wanted to do was spend hours with him tied to those very rails but faced with such options, I only wanted to feel him. "I want to take hold of you." His hand finds my ass as he grasps it, pulling me firmly against him and grinding his hips into my own. "And kiss you here-"

 His lips find my neck, grazing my jaw with his teeth. "And here." 

He kisses down to the junction of my neck and shoulder. 

I gasped, shivering under his touch. I can't lose it here; I can't let him gain control. 

Grasping his shirt once more, I pull him forward and toss him onto the bed. He unceremoniously grunts as his height lands him awkwardly in the small space. I don't care; I have little time before I come to my senses. Climbing into his lap, I crush my lips into his. Fumbling with his pants, I'm yanking and pulling at the buttons in my desperation.

 Grasping my face in his hands, he tilts his head to catch my attention. "Darling.. Nic... stop."

"What?" I demand. "This is my dream. I want you; I don't have time for all this... this foreplay!"

 Twisting out of his grasp, I feel the hurt wash over him. I think about all of our past encounters, coming up until recently. The play, what I thought was 'play,' at least. Our experiences together were shorter and shorter, less and less frequent as I got too busy to deal with the formalities of our early days. 

We didn't have time for scenes, for all the prep work it took to get to the act finally, my schedule- my time frame. Sitting down in his lap, I'm left panting as I notice he's looking away, his hands now resting on my hips. It's acceptance, tolerance, pushing his needs to the back to satisfy what I want.

"How... how often do you look like that?"

"Like what?"

"I had to see it- I had to see this face before to see it in my dreams. How often do you look like that during sex?" How often do I even look at him in such a way? But surely I was overthinking such a thing? We had just had fantastic sex; it lasted longer than I could even fathom. 

But how often was that occurring? Trying to call back memories in my current state is difficult, but I can count on more than one hand the number of times I've surged past him to get what I want. 

Did he not like that? Was that not our way? 

"It's fine. Keep going." If it were fine, he wouldn't have stopped me. 

Cautiously, ever so slowly, I kiss him once more. Patient this time, building as I deepen the kiss. My hands find his hair, and instead of pulling, I feel the soft tangles, dragging my fingers through the thickness. I'm rewarded with a low purr. It's a shame it took me till now to figure out my shortcomings. 

"If this is going to be the last time-" 

He silences me with his lips; I'm lost as I try to recall when we last kissed in such a way. I soak him in as I slide out of my pants, rocking against him in hungry persuasion as he finishes removing his own. I moan low in my throat as we find each other, sitting in his lap, curled around him to be as close as possible as I start to move. He rolls against me, slow and hard, savoring me.

 I surrender to him; I don't writhe and claw; I melt against him as I become a servant to his divine will. He moans my name low in his throat, finding my neck with his lips so that he can hear me. 

I begin to climb, slow and hot in the pit of my stomach. I let it wash over me instead of chasing my release, and I come apart at the seams as I plead for him in a way that almost embarrasses me. Yet, as I look at him and truly see him, I know I have command over him. 

"Let me see you." I exhale, pressing my forehead to his. His eyes meeting mine, looking at me with such possession, is my undoing. My body shakes as he follows me, this beautiful man undone before me. I rarely see him taken in such a way; I hear him moan in such a tone.

 I rest my cheek in the crook of his neck as I try to catch my breath. How can a dream be so exhausting? 

My body is tired; I know I must sleep, which means I will soon wake up. He doesn't release me, holding me to him as if his very life depended on it. "I have to go..." I finally manage, slowly straightening and brushing my hand gently through his hair. "I have to find a way to free you."

The smile I'm met with is sad, "Free Marisol... but leave me if it means a life without you. I am but a vessel, and I will live my longest life in custody. If this is our last, know I'm okay with this."

I watch him, searching his face. "Randy?"

His hands cup my face, and he kisses me again, slowly against my lips. "I love you. So damned much, Nic." Brushing his nose against mine, I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.  

When I open my eyes, I'm staring at the ceiling from my abused bed. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath. Now what?