A shudder ran through me. My pulse pounded in my ears.
I opened my eyes, forcing myself to look at Malik.
His gaze searched mine, unreadable. Then, he reached out, brushing damp strands of hair from my face.
His touch was careful. Tender.
“Don’t,” I whispered, but I didn’t push his hand away.
A strange, unsettling warmth coiled inside me. “What’s going on? I feellike we’ve met before. Have we?”
Malik shook his head. “No. I found you for the first time when you lost your baby.”
“That can’t be possible,” I murmured, shaking my head. “The dream… it was so real.”
I stared ahead, my vision blurring as the memory clawed its way through me.
“The fire,” I whispered. “I was giving birth… My husband saved you. We were in danger. People were hunting us. You were in love with me. You cried when I was dying. You told me you loved me.”
I swallowed hard, my throat raw.
“It felt raw. I felt everything.” I turned to him, desperate for answers. “How is that possible?”
Malik said nothing, his fingers still sifting through my hair, his expression unreadable.
I started to cry again, exhaustion sinking its claws into me. “I’m so tired,” I confessed, my voice breaking. “I miss my husband. My emotions are all over the place.”
I covered my face with my hands, overcome by fatigue, fear, and the power of my lucid dreams.
Malik stayed close, his warmth surrounding me. His hand continued its rhythmic strokes along my hair, down my arm, a steady presence amidst my chaos.
Why did I feel so compelled by him? Why did I feel like I knew Eyan Malik?
I pressed my palm against his chest and pushed him away. “Please don’t touch me. You overwhelm me, Malik.”
He withdrew instantly. The warmth vanished. A cold void remained in its place.
I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut, unwilling to see his face or meet those piercing, knowing eyes. “Tell me where my husband is,” I whispered. “I need to see him.”
I turned toward the window, staring at the half-moon hanging low in the sky.
Where are you, Roman?
I miss you so much. I need you here with me. I can’t do this alone. I need you by my side.
Malik disrupted the silence. “You’re married to Roman. You can use your blade to find him, remember?”
The dagger.
I gasped. “Grey Feather said Roman and I could use our knives to find one another!”
Scrambling out of bed, I padded across the room, heart hammering. I yanked open the dresser drawer and retrieved my gleaming blade.
Without hesitation, I sliced through my palm, the familiar sting barely registering as I began reciting the sacred words.
The polished metal flared to life, pulsing with an otherworldly glow that rivaled the moon’s brilliance.
Then—
