"I DID DREAM about you," Adam stated as we stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

My mind had been on Georgia.

Before she had gone to bed ten minutes ago, I had seen her staring at the decor, frowning at its impeccable tidiness. It seemed to stir up something within her, because when I asked her if she was all right she snapped and said why would she not be.

I was no stranger to the fact that Georgia had a short fuse and the emotional range of a toddler, but I struggled to understand why Adam's house set her off.

Was it something about how unlived it was? Did it perhaps remind her of her own house?

I had refrained from asking questions when I realised that thinking about houses might have led her to think about her parents —something she did not want to discuss. But I knew that we had to...eventually. When the soldier had asked her about her parents, she had not been honest. I did not blame her for not trusting him, but my concern was that maybe her lack of denying that they were dead was a wish for them to be so.

As a Dreamcatcher, I did not really care. But Georgia was human, and I had come to know humans to be fickle creatures who said one thing and meant another. It was possible that the teenager simply missed her parents terribly, but was too hurt to admit it.

It would be a difficult conversation to have.

"Purple," Adam's voice then weaved in through the curls of my hair as he leaned in close.

"Yes?" I murmured.

"Did you hear what I said?"

It took me a moment to recall what the soldier had said as I stared blankly at bland beige furnishings and crisp white sheets spread over a double bed.

"I did dream about you."

"...You lied to me," I deadpanned.

"I did," he admitted, knowing that it was wiser. "I hadn't wanted you to think that I was buying into the idea of our fates being interwoven."

"That fact has nothing to do with whatever it was that you were thinking about us at the time," I clipped, turning my head to look up at him. He looked down to meet my gaze. "Destinies which overlap do not have to be complimentarily romantic."

"I realised that," he admitted.

"So why did you still choose not to tell me?" I whispered, my eyes narrowing.

He did not look away. "My dreams are not like yours. There's no part where we lean in close and feel something good. There's no conversation either. You...always die in my dreams, Purple," he said quietly. "I just didn't want to think about that being a reality."

I blinked. Our gazes still held, exposing everything about us to each other. I thought that I would not be able to comprehend the emotion —but I knew. I looked into his eyes, and I completely understood his fear.

"Tell me," I said earnestly.

And he did. I did not show a reaction to his descriptions, but I could tell that it would be upsetting. For the most part, I could not really picture it because I could not die and decompose as a human would. That fate seemed so far fetched; fantastical.

Just because Adam had dreamt of it, it did not mean that the events would come to pass.

Sometimes dreams were just that —dreams.

For a moment I considered telling him about my nightmare; the drowning and the mortal blood. But I knew that he was not ready for what it would bring —for what it would imply. He had already heard his voice in my other dream, and if that had not been enough to unsettle him then the nightmare would be.

A part of me hoped that I was wrong. That just as his dreams could simply be dreams, so could mine. I chose to ignore the fact that he was human and I was not. I chose to ignore that I knew Fate better.

In his case, learned facts could blur.

It was possible that the magic between us or within him had mingled with his fears and apprehension about me, creating an unsettling dream pattern.

The idea of me ruining his sense of freedom could be too deeply engrained to alter.

So I decided to tell him something that would take his mind from it —away from thinking of me that way.

"I decided to live for you, you know," I murmured. "I could not bear the thought of you trying to sleep tonight only to find that you could not. I wanted to live so that I could tell you, and...so I could help you."

"I suppose you'll be stuck with me for a while."

My lips curled in a smile. "I am no longer complaining."

He cracked a smile in return, but it then fell as he went quiet again. I wanted to pry and ask what he thought that his dreams meant, but I knew that it would be painful. I had only just come back —I had to give him the time to fully appreciate that first.

So all that I could say was, "...I am here right now."

That was all that he needed to hear. Because in that moment, it was enough.

He then leaned in and captured my lips; softly, gratefully. It morphed into deep and searching within seconds, stealing the breath from our lungs. It was a replacement for all that we could not put into words. And we remained like that for a moment, before having the incentive to wander inside and close the door behind us.

No words were spoken.

Our communication was through touch alone. His told me that he wanted me out of my issued clothing faster than I was taking it off. Mine told him that there was not enough of him for me to get.

It was a humorous shame to see him step out of his Fae statesman garb —but if I was honest, it did not take a single ounce of regality away from him.

He seemed to look at me with a similar reverence, because he slowed down from his primal state and took his time to relearn the curves of my body. I sighed at every touch, patiently waiting for him to be satisfied. And when he was, he took my face in his hands and kissed me as though it were the end of days.

We did not break apart long enough at a time except to render each other bare. And when we were, we picked up just where we had left off in the study.

He laid me down on my back first, trailing kisses down the length of me. And so he did have me sprawled over the sheets; every part of me reactive to the coolness to which my body had not yet adjusted.

One hand alternately claimed my breasts, while his mouth focused on my inner thighs this time —and I gasped at how stimulating it all was. I breathed shakily in between submissive groans. The sensations were so intense that I could not think of anything else; my whole being became rooted in them.

And when he murmured my name against my skin, I arched and shattered for him. This time I felt the little shards of crystal surge outward from me, studding the ceiling and walls.

I left them there. Adam and I were too distracted to consider anything else.

We both sat up, our lips finding each other's again as our hands ran over our forms. I relinquished any type of control I might have had as he dominated all of the spots which he knew to be my weaknesses.

My spine tingled and my neck stung from his grazing teeth; leaving me free to express the pleasure of it. I breathed his name as I helplessly clung onto his shoulders, steadily on the verge of release.

And when I found it again, the sound that accompanied it was atrociously loud —but appropriate. Every time, was better than the previous.

I then did not even bother to pause for breath as I gently pushed the soldier backwards and settled over him; before my hand sought him out in the tangle of legs in order to return the favour.

To have him at my mercy.

"Will you ever tell me about that dream?" Adam murmured later as we lay on the bed, finally obeying the protest of our muscles. I could see his eyes boring into me out of the corner of my vision. I turned my own head to meet his gaze, before I scoffed.

"Why should I?" I inquired.

"I just want to know what else goes on in that head of yours," he quipped, tangling his fingers in my hair.

I bit my lower lip. Without much thought I then leaned in and kissed him, arching my back and shifting closer. He gripped my naked waist, while shifting to sit up against the headboard.

We paused when I straddled his lap, simply staring at each other. Our gazes said a million things; things which we were perhaps too polite to say —or even think. We might share in the same desire but it did not translate to us having the same tastes.

As for myself, I knew that I would enjoy nothing more than for him to whisper indecent and vulgar nothings in my ear as he grazed his fingers over my skin —and that it would be enough to undo me.

"This was different in my dream," I then murmured as I gently rolled my hips against him.

"Oh?" Adam breathed, slowly inching a finger up along the curve of my back. "How so?"

I shook my head. "You...we were joined," I rasped shakily. "Truly and completely, like humans."

"That's what you dreamt about?" he actually chuckled, his dark molten eyes still locked with mine.

"You said that you were curious," I reasoned.

"Fair enough," he quipped. He then slid a hand up from my stomach to my chest, before settling at the back of my neck. The conversation then died down for a few seconds before Adam said, "...Show me."

I drew a breath. I did not have the inhibition to refuse.

I motioned for him to give me his hands. I took one in each of mine, lacing our fingers and gripping lightly. Then I closed my eyes. I focused on the image of us, of our entangled limbs and unapologetic sensuality —and I felt the dream project onto him.

I could feel the tendrils of blue and pink and purple mist swirling around our hands.

I still remembered it vividly —whether it was because I could not forget dreams like humans did, or because anything to do with dreams encapsulated my purpose. It just pleasantly surprised me.

My lips parted as I showed him snippets of all of the best parts —and made him know how I had felt.

More than anything, it left me vulnerable before him. I was laying myself and my mind open for him in that moment, illustrating the only point in time when I really felt vulnerable: as we were now.

As I did all of this, I still slowly rolled my hips. I heard him inhale sharply, and felt his grip on my hands tighten. I knew that combined with my illicit dream, his completion would not delay.

"Purple," he groaned softly against my neck.

I stiffened and threw my head back, immersed in euphoria, and granting him further access. He continued to whisper my name as his breath shortened, dragging out the pleasure for as long as it would last.

And when he succumbed to it, I shuddered with him.

I had to admit that the moments after the ecstasy were just as sensational. I could spend eternity in that hazy reverie, still feeling the quivering echoes.

And to have Adam's hot skin beneath my fingers and pressing to my own temperature-fluctuating body elevated the experience to cloud nine.

"I will never get used to this," I told him as the coolness of the room hit me again.

"I can't believe that I almost forgot how it felt," he mused. "Thank you for reminding me."

"An hour ago or with the dream?" I deadpanned.

"All of it," he quipped, leaning in to peck my lips. "...But mostly the dream," he murmured. I stifled a laugh. "I almost can't believe that you would be like that if you were more anatomically accurate," he then confessed. "Assuming you think it was all plausible."

"I think so, for the most part," I admitted.

"You'd like it gentle and slow?" he asked in a husky voice that caused me to ache again.

I turned grey and did not offer him an answer.

He then reached up and slowly ran his thumb across my lower lip, eliciting a shiver to run through me. "How does that make you feel?" he whispered.

I flushed, unable to form coherent thoughts. I ended up softly humming in response.

Adam smirked triumphantly. "Good. So it was most definitely accurate," he concluded.

"I can make you sleep if you want —right now," I threatened, entirely serious.

"No thanks," he chuckled. Then he lightly stroked my thigh. "I don't think that I want to sleep tonight."

"Adam," I whispered, scoffing.

"Stop me if you want to protest," he said; his nose tapping mine as he leaned in to kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed as I let him advance and felt his lips capture mine. He still gave me the option to stop him.

Yet sure enough, I did not.

I was unsure as to what time it was when we next took a break, but there was pale sunlight streaming through the gap of the dark blackout curtains. It barely illuminated anything, and it took away from the beauty of the star-speckled night. I had an affinity to the dark —mostly for what it hid. I loved the mystery; the unpredictability of the unknown.

Humans were pretty unpredictable as well.

Every now and again, I would meet one who baffled me and did not fit my idea of their species. Sometimes it was a good thing. Other times, it left me burned.

As I lay with my head on Adam's chest and my body pulled against his side, I could feel him breathing. I could hear his heartbeat. It was calm, soothing.

I was aware that this was meant to be the romantic part of what we had done. Ordinarily, one of us might have already slipped away without another thought.

Adam and I definitely gave many thoughts about each other, but none that were not already known. The magic kept us linked, tethered. Until we found a cure for him, we would be like this indefinitely.

I smiled lightly to myself, thinking that it was not the worst way to spend one's time.

"About what you said when we left and back at the trial," Adam then spoke up, "did you really never refer to your childhood house as a home?"

"It is true. I never thought of that place as a home," I sighed, tracing a finger along his scars.

"Did they treat you that badly there?"

"I was a noble," I murmured. "And I was treated as such. Stiff and upright —never to enjoy life, or to find pleasure in any endeavour. I cannot say that I was treated very badly, because it would subjective. Dreamcatchers would think that it was the height of privilege. Others with sense may say it was all sorts of abuse."

He shifted slightly, and then asked me a very important question. "What do you say?"

I hesitated to answer. "...I would not wish my childhood upon anyone," I sighed.

"I suppose that you are incapable of resentment," the soldier commented.

"I do not know about that," I quipped. "I think that such strong feelings are reserved for people about whom you would actually care."

"And so, you clearly don't care for anyone in your family," Adam inferred.

I stiffened. "I do not know if that rings true for Magenta," I admitted, "even though I cannot call her family. I do not love her —but thinking about her...hurts."

"I think that's love," Adam frowned.

I arched an eyebrow. "Dreamcatchers do not feel love, Adam," I clipped.

"Hm," he grunted. "...Or maybe none of them actually know what it feels like."

I started, accidentally elbowing the arm on which I was lying. "Adam, I am serious."

"So am I."

"But I am a Dreamcatcher," I stated. "That means that I cannot feel love."

Adam sighed and I felt him shrug. "...You are a beginning, Purple. Maybe that extends to love as well."

I was left speechless at that suggestion. I did not know how to deny it. There was doubt in my mind about such a possibility, but what if my magic had not stopped in its stages of manifesting?

What if I really could love?

"Have you ever called anywhere 'home'?" the soldier brought the topic of conversation around, realising that I had a lot to take in and evaluate.

"I have," I answered immediately. "...Here."

There was enough ambiguity in my response for him to interpret it in almost any way that he wished.

Adam turned his head to the side at the same time that I did, consequently catching my eye. I drew a breath and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Then welcome home," he told me.

There was the same vagueness in it for me to see it in any way that I wished as well. And he was right. Whatever bonded us; whatever it was that kept us alive —this feeling...was home.

author's note |
omg that's it —the first book of the series is complete!

i can't believe i managed to write this story in just two and a half months —it's unprecedented. thank you to everyone who supported me along the way and kept up-to-date with it religiously; that was true motivation.

au revoir —see you in another book!