by Callie Rose
Pain tightens the corners of his eyes, and he reaches out to draw me back into his embrace. I feel calmer in his arms, like the first eighteen years of my life were just a bad dream, something that never really happened. His warm touch reminds me that when I wake up, I’ll find him and my three other mates waiting for me, ready to protect me and care for me.
Then another set of footsteps starts down the stairs. This time, I know it’s Clint. I recognize his gait—it was ingrained in my memory over the years I lived in his house.
I glance at the stairs, then look up at Archer, my heart hammering. I don’t want him to see Clint or to see what happens next. That part of my life is over. It’s history, and Archer is the future.
We have to get out of here.
I latch onto his arm and draw on my magic, pulling it up from deep within myself as easily as breathing. My scars turn black, and smoke seeps from my fingertips to billow around us until the basement is completely obscured. Everything spins and whirls, and then we plummet down a long, dark hallway in my mind. I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing, but I’m desperate to get us away from that place. I treat the dream like astral travel, building a tunnel in my consciousness and carrying us away.
We land on slippery ground in a dark, cold space. I stumble but don’t lose my footing, although the same can’t be said for Archer, who definitely wasn’t expecting to be spirited from one place to the next.
Straightening, I look around to see what new dream I’ve conjured up, and I realize it’s not a dream at all.
It’s the cave.
The cave on the astral plane where I meet with Cleo—only she’s not here. It’s just me and Archer.
Shock floods over me like a deluge of cold water.
My breath hitches, and suddenly, I’m being pulled through space again, drawn through the ether so fast it makes me dizzy.
I snap awake, my whole body jerking from the violence of the return to my body. Beside me, Archer sits up with a gasp and turns to me, his eyes wide. For a long moment, we stare at each other, both of us considering the ramifications of what just happened.
“Did that…” He shakes his head, blinking hard. “Did we just… share a dream?”
I nod as I whisper back, my heart hammering in my chest. “I think so. You came into Clint’s basement while I was there.”
“Then you took us somewhere else?” he verifies. “A cave? I didn’t get a good look.”
Trystan groans and flails his arms, still half-asleep. “What the fuck is going on? What time is it?”
In the darkness, Ridge grunts as if he’s just been elbowed or something, probably by Trystan. “Ow,” he grumbles, his voice deep and gruff. He was awake on watch, but he still sounds tired.
Dare growls and rolls away from us. The whole scene is so comical that it almost makes me laugh. It would if I weren’t still reeling from the dream.
On the other side of me, Ridge sits up straighter as he searches out me and Archer in the gloom. “What’s going on?” he asks, concern evident in his tone. “Is everything okay?”
Though Trystan and Dare don’t sit up, I can sense they’re both awake and listening, so I catch them all up on what happened with the dream.
When I’m finished with my fairly short tale, Ridge asks, “Have you been able to lucid dream before?”
“Lucid dream?” I’ve never heard the term.
“It’s when you control what’s happening in your dreams,” he explains. “Most people can’t control their dreams. They just are what they are. But some people are capable of lucid dreaming, which means firstly that you know you’re dreaming, and secondly, that you can manipulate and control every little thing that happens, no matter how deeply asleep you are. It’s not all that common.”
I think back. Sleeping at Clint’s house was an ordeal all on its own. I didn’t have a lock on my bedroom door, and if Clint got it into his head that he wanted to beat me, it didn’t matter whether I was sleeping or not. So for the longest time, I didn’t really sleep. I just dozed, constantly waking at every creak and groan in the house.
But I recall a handful of recurring dreams I’ve had over the years, and it seems like I was often able to do whatever I wanted in those instances. I can’t be certain, not really, but I think I was able to do exactly what Ridge described.
“Maybe I could,” I say carefully. “It just always seemed normal to me.”
“I don’t think that was a normal dream.” Archer clicks the bedside lamp on, and light floods the room to a chorus of masculine groans. Trystan throws a pillow at him, and I laugh softly.
But Ridge nods, looking equal parts grave and intrigued. “I agree. I think you essentially did what you’ve been doing with Cleo all this time. You took Archer into the astral plane.”
Taken aback, I blink. “How is that even possible?”
“The mate bond,” Archer offers. “Our connection mirrors the connection between you and Cleo. It’s just another type of bond, right?”
Dare’s still stretched out at the foot of the bed with sleepy eyes. He runs a hand through his thick dark hair, making it even more mussed than before. “I’ve thought for a while that our bond might be stronger and deeper than the usual wolf mate bond. Probably because you’re a witch too. Being able to connect psychically like that makes my theory seem accurate.”
Trystan, who’s slid up to the head of the bed to prop against the headboard, has a strange look on his face that has deepened while Archer and Dare have hashed out the details. He cuts in, a grin spreading over his face. “So what you’re saying is, you literally pulled Archer into the place where you go up against Cleo?”
I shrug. “It seems that way. It happened so fast.”
His grin widens. “Do you know what this means?”
I exchange looks with Archer, then shake my head. “Not really.”
Trystan’s grin widens into something almost bloodthirsty, and a gleam lights in his eyes. “It means you can take us with you the next time you face off against that bitch in the astral plane. You can take us to fight alongside you.”
My jaw drops, shock washing over me in a wave. A tense kind of excitement fills the air between all of us.
Could he be right? Is that really possible?
23
Archer
“Are you ready to do this?” I ask Sable as I sit on the ground across from her and hand her a fresh mug of coffee.
We’re in the back yard, just the two of us, on the heels of dawn. I put down a blanket on the dewy grass to keep us dry, and a plate with a few warmed cinnamon rolls rests between us, already missing one fragrant pastry. Steam rises in wispy strands from the surface of the coffee.
Sable looks rumpled and sleepy as she licks the last of the icing off her fingers and reaches for the mug.
“I think so,” she says, then pauses to sip from her cup. Her shoulders slump forward and she smiles, clearly having a moment with the caffeine.
I can’t blame her. I rolled her out of bed way too early this morning to start work on recreating what happened during our shared dream. I’m absolutely positive that she was able to pull me into the astral plane—where she meets Cleo—using our mate bond. Either that, or it was an awful strange coincidence that we had the exact same dream at the exact same time.
I don’t really believe in coincidences.
If Trystan’s right, we can use this newfound power to our advantage. Cleo may be strong, but the five of us together are stronger. I’m certain of it. So the question now becomes, can Sable repeat what she did? Can she control that power and take all of us with her into the astral plane?
Sable sets her mug on a level spot on the grass and goes on. “I’ve been trying to come up with a plan for how we can do it without Cleo knowing what’s going on.”
“Good.” I nod. “I’ve been worried about that. I know she pulls you into the cave, usually. That probably means she has some kind of connection to it, which could make it dangerous for us to be there.”
Sable nods. “Right. The last thing I want to do is drag you into a fight with her before we’re ready. So I’m going to build a new place. A separate place in the astral realm specifically for practice.”
I raise an eyebrow, impressed. “You think you can do that?”
She shrugs modestly. “I won’t know until I try. But you know, I trust her. My witch, I mean. I think she knows what she’s doing, and I just have to let her take the reins.”
A smile spreads across my face. I can’t help it. Sable has worked her ass off to learn how to use and control her magic. The rest of us have helped her as much as we can, but ultimately, her abilities come down to her own strength and determination.
And it makes me so fucking glad to see that she no longer fears this part of herself.
We start with some basic meditation practice to hone her mind and prepare her for the kind of control necessary to visualize and build her own astral place. To be honest, sitting with her in the growing sunshine, meditating with her, coaching her through mindfulness—hell, this is the stuff dreams are made of.
I learned meditation as a teenager, when the stress of my past became too much to handle on my own. I needed something to chill out my mind, calm my fears, and ease the anxiety I still had over my time being held captive and tortured by the witches. I was just a kid when it happened, but the older I got, the harder it became to deal.
Meditation helped, more than I think I ever expected it to.
It’s nice, passing on my own methods to Sable. It’s nice to have someone to sit here and just be with, and it’s even better that the one I’m with is my mate. My favorite person in the whole damn world.
After she feels ready, we move on to the next part, most of which I can’t help her with.
“Do you know much about visualization?” I ask her.
“I know what it is, but not exactly how to do it,” she tells me, wrinkling her nose a little.
I take my time and consider my words, trying to figure out how best to describe it. Visualization was part of my studies in meditation, but I’ve always thought it’s one of those things that’s easier to do than to explain.
Finally, I settle on saying, “Close your eyes and imagine Ridge’s living room couch.”
She raises an eyebrow, a small smile dancing on her face, but she follows my instructions. Her hands are resting comfortably in her lap, and her expression is the calmest I’ve seen it in weeks. She takes several deep breaths, letting each flow in and out slowly and smoothly.
“Okay,” she confirms after a moment. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Picture it entirely,” I tell her. “From every angle. There’s stuffing coming out of one corner, and a patch on the left arm that’s a different color than the rest. The corduroy almost looks striped, doesn’t it? Some lines darker, some lines lighter, depending on the angle.”
Sable nods as I speak, and I can see her eyes moving behind her eyelids. Better yet, magic is rising beneath the scars on her body, which I take to mean she’s got a handle on the visualization.
“Can you see it?” I ask her. “Can you see the room around it? Can you smell the woodsmoke from Ridge’s fireplace?”
She nods again, smiling. “I can. It’s like I’m there.”
“Good. You just visualized his couch,” I say with a grin. “So now, you have to take that same method and build. Create something new, specifically inside the astral realm.”
Sable opens her eyes, and there’s a touch of worry in the tightening of her brow.
“You can do this,” I assure her.
“Right. I can do this,” she agrees, though she doesn’t really sound like she means it.
The sun rises higher in the sky. I drain my now-lukewarm coffee and polish off another cinnamon roll while I watch Sable work. Perspiration beads at her hairline, and every so often, her face screws up like she’s concentrating extra hard.
I don’t know how to help her with this part any more than I already have. I can be here and give her encouragement, but ultimately, it’s up to Sable to build her astral realm.
Around eleven, I hear her stomach growl with hunger and decide she needs a break. She’s pale and sweaty, looking as if she just ran a marathon.
“Sable.” I speak her name gently, careful not to startle her out of her trance-like state.
After a short pause, she lifts her chin slightly, eyes still closed. “Hmm?”
“I think we should break for a while. Give you a chance to recuperate. We can get back at it this afternoon.”
“Okay. Let me just…” She goes silent for another few minutes, and then finally, opens her eyes. “I want to see if I can go back there. Just really quickly.”
“Be careful. Don’t overdo it,” I warn her as she closes her eyes again.
A few moments later, a grin spreads over her face, and her eyes pop open. Excitement gleams in their blue depths, tentative but palpable.
“I did it. I went back! It wasn’t perfect, but it’s a good start.”
I smile back at her, pride welling in my chest. “Hell, yeah, it is.”
For the next several days, as battle plans commence, Sable and I continue working. By the end of the first day, she’s got a tenuous place set up for us in the astral realm, but she looks dead where she sits, so I cut her off for the day. We start early the next morning on trying to use the mate bond as an astral link. We try meditating together. We try chanting to get on the same wavelength. We try lying on the blanket and dozing, only for us both to fall completely asleep from the exhaustion of the past several weeks.
And we fail. A lot.
On the third day, after yet another failed attempt at drawing me into the connection, Sable throws herself backward on the blanket, arms spread wide and face pointed at the sky. “Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit. This is impossible.”
I slide across the space between us to lie beside her, and then tug her into my arms. She remains stubbornly on her back, but her side melts against me and she wraps an arm around mine.
“It’s not impossible,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You’ve already done it.”
“Maybe I didn’t, actually.” She lets out an exasperated noise, blinking rapidly as if dispelling tears. The sun reflects on her big blue eyes, making them look lighter than usual. “Maybe it was just a dream.”
“It wasn’t. I know you can do this because you’ve done it before,” I tell her simply. “So I know you can do it again.”
She turns her head to look at me. A lock of golden hair curls down her face, and I slide it away with the tips of my fingers.
“You can do this,” I repeat, hoping if I say the words enough, she’ll believe them. “I’ve never had any doubts. So now, all you can do is believe in yourself.”
I kiss her, losing myself in the taste of her for several long minutes. She turns into me, hooking a leg over my hips, her fingers sliding in my hair, and suddenly, meditation and astral travel just don’t feel that exciting anymore. Nothing is more tempting than the feel of this woman against my body.
But before it can get too hot and heavy, I break away, breathing hard. We’re lying on our sides, arms wrapped around each other, lips still agonizingly close. I press my forehead against hers and close my eyes. “Try again.”
Neither of us really wants to stop what we were just doing. I can feel her reluctance through the bond, but she follows my urging. Her eyes close as her breathing evens out. She clutches my shirt in one hand, the other still tangled in my hair. Magic turns her scars black as she slips into the astral realm.
And a few seconds later, I feel a tug.
It’s so light that I almost think I’ve imagined it. But then it happens again. It’s as if someone’s inside my subconscious, pulling me off my feet, out of my body, but there isn’t enough strength behind the movement to get me going. My head swims, and I cling to Sable’s arms tighter.
“Is that you?” I ask roughly.
“I… think s
o?” she replies, her voice sounding dazed and distant. “I can feel you, but something’s keeping me from pulling you in.”
I close my eyes and focus on the phantom sensation of her consciousness in mine. I give myself over to the feeling and let her wrap around me. It’s easy to give in to it. It’s all I ever want—to be as close to my mate as possible.
“Pull again,” I tell her, hanging on tightly to her essence.
Suddenly, the world around me dips and sways. I’m no longer aware of my body or of Sable’s warmth pressed against me. There’s only darkness and the distinct sensation that I’m flying with a cold wind rushing past my ears.
Then I land on my feet in a familiar place.
The mating cabin.
When our wolves each declared Sable their mate at a North Pack meeting, the Elders suggested we all travel to the remote cabin used for mating rituals and give her wolf time to choose between us. Those early days feel like a dream now. So much has happened since then. The five of us have lived entire lifetimes together in only a matter of a few months.
And looking back now, I’m really glad her wolf decided to choose all of us instead. It wasn’t the life I thought I wanted, but it turned out to be exactly the life I need.
Sable’s sitting on the old, worn couch with her knees tucked beneath her. She stares at me in shock, like she didn’t actually believe this would work. “Holy crap. Is it really you?”
I swoop down to pluck her up off the couch and twirl her around before setting her on her feet and kissing her thoroughly. When I pull away, I cup her face in my hands and grin like a lunatic. “You did it. I knew you could do it.”
I kiss her again, then step away to look around the room. I can tell it isn’t exactly like the mating cabin—there are small details she replaced with other, easier things. But the place looks and feels solid, and my body feels substantial here, even though it isn’t really my body at all.
Turning back around to face her, I grin widely. “We should go back and try again with the others. See if you can get us all here.”
