If I can’t cross through the stones, and she needs the ring to cross…
Will I ever see her again?
That is a future I do not wish to contemplate. I’d rather embrace the dawn.
* * *
It’s beencountless ages since I last dreamed.
I missed dreams, at first.
Over the centuries, as my strength grew, I learned I could drop into a state of mind more like meditation and still think about things while safely sequestered.
But these tortured imaginings my mind now conjures—of losing Eilidh, of her being attacked and me unable to protect her—are worse than anything I have ever dreamed.
Unfortunately, I’m powerless to stop the visions, much less help her.
I finally snap awake with a gasp and realize it must be sundown, or close to it.
My phone, however, says it’s only one o’clock in the afternoon. Obviously, I’m still alive, meaning this remains a relatively safe space. Still, I’d prefer something less vulnerable and far more under my control.
Eilidh.
I need to plan. I didn’t survive this many years by racing into battle unprepared.
That means thinking this through.
If Amber truly can see the future—and the jury is still out, as far as I’m concerned—maybe she can tell me what my next step should be.
I’m not sure Garrett will be happy his mate is helping a “leech” again, but perhaps if I frame it as helping Eilidh, he’ll let her try.
I call Garrett first as a matter of courtesy.
“What do you want now, Dexter?” he gruffly answers. Wolves have their own hierarchy and dominance bullshit. We might be business partners, but I’m still “the enemy,” to him. Especially since Eilidh fled Tucson, and he blames me for not keeping her there and safe, which upset his mate.
But I must talk to the man’s mate, so I adopt an appropriately respectful tone. “I have to speak with Amber, please. It’s urgent. It’s about Eilidh.”
Worry fills his tone. “Why? Where is she? I thought you two were back together, and she’s safe?”
“That’s exactly what I need Amber’s help with, and why I wish to speak with her.” I quickly detail what happened and feel a modicum of relief when the shifter’s tone changes from gruff to sympathetic.
“Oh, shit. Hold on, Dex. I’ll get her for you.”
Seconds later, Amber’s voice fills my ear. “Hey, Dexter. This is serious.”
I close my eyes. “It is. What do I do?”
The sound of her breathing is the only thing I hear for a moment, and I find myself breathing in time with her. “She’s alive and safe, for now.”
“That’s reassuring, but not very helpful.”
“I feel like I’m trying to look at her through a fluffy, crocheted blanket. Like I can sense her, sort of, but I can’t reallyseeher.Oh! It’sexactlylike when I see her father. Ithasto be due to where she is. Through the stone ring, I mean. Wherever that is. That must mean her father’s there, too.”
Fear fills me. “Is she in danger? Apparently, it’s a very precarious situation.”
“Not necessarily. I don’t feel fear for her safety. Not right now.” She pauses for a moment, and I sense her thinking, so I don’t interrupt. “She’ll be safe for a few days, at least. She’s really worried about you, though.”
Dare I feel any measure of relief? “Can you see any way for me to get through the stones?”
