A Fire in the Flesh (Flesh and Fire, #3)

But it was different.

I wasn’t swimming. I was sitting cross-legged on the bank, naked as the day I was born, able to feel and sense everything as if I were truly there. Nothing was dulled as dreams often were. The grass was cool against my skin. The scent of rich, damp soil filled every breath I took. Above me, the elms swayed in the breeze.

But like the times before, it was my lake, yet not.

Through the thick branches, I saw no moon, but the stars were bright and large, reflecting off the surface of the water like a thousand twinkling lights. The wind that stirred the branches tossed the tangled curls of my hair against the sides of my face, and my arms and waist didn’t carry the choking humidity that plagued Lasania well into what should be the cooler months. And my lake? There were no ripples, even with the water tumbling off the Elysium Peaks.

As I sat there, I realized there was a contrast between when I had been swimming and when I was not. When I was in the lake, a little bit of the fuzziness of dreams remained, a sensation of floating and just existing. But there was none of that now. There was a surreal realness when I was not in the water.

But I was alone.

Closing my eyes, I turned my face up to the cool air, fighting back the swell of rising disappointment. I was grateful to be dreaming of my lake again, but I needed…gods, I needed to see Ash, even if only in my dreams. I needed to see him. Hear his voice. Feel his presence. His touch. Ash’s image would erase the others. His voice would replace the sound of Kolis’s. His mere presence would overshadow everything else. Ash’s touch would exorcise the reminder of his like one would cut away the rotten flesh of a festering wound.

I needed to see him.

Because even if it was only a dream, I could tell myself he was okay. I could convince myself that I would be okay.

My chest swelled with my breath. “Please,” I whispered—pleaded, really—as a tide of agony rose. “I need you. Please.”

Nothing but silence greeted me. The wind nor the water made any sound. There were no soft bird calls. Nothing.

My cheeks felt damp.

Pulling my legs to my chest, I rested my forehead on my knees and began idly rocking. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay…

The air stirred around me, cooler than before. Still, there was no sound. No—

I stopped swaying as I felt the air thicken. Awareness bore down on me. My skin pimpled. Tiny hairs rose. My fingers curled inward, digging into my palms as I slowly lifted my head and looked to my left.

Eyes like pools of molten silver framed by a heavy fringe of lashes and set in features savage in their beauty, locked onto mine.

“Ash,” I whispered, afraid to believe my mind had successfully conjured him.

Those eyes swept over my face, and his bare shoulders loosened with a heavy exhale. “Liessa.”

A tremor went through me, and then I sprang into motion, all but throwing myself at him because this was me. I was here with Ash, and it didn’t matter that it was a figment of my mind and nothing more than a dream.

Catching me, Ash let out a rough laugh as he pulled me onto his lap and against his chest. I buried my face in his neck, inhaling deeply. I shuddered at the scent of citrus and fresh air, soaking in the feel of his arms around me. In his embrace, there was no other sensation, no one else.

“I was… I was nowhere, liessa. Nowhere.” Ash’s fingers tangled in my hair as he held me so tightly I felt his heart beating against my breast. “Then I heard your voice. You were calling to me. I thought I’d woken up. I thought I was going to—” He stopped himself, his voice thickening when he spoke again. “I still found you. That’s all that matters.”

I squeezed my eyes closed. He was right that it was all that mattered. “I’m glad…” My voice cracked as tears stung my eyes. “I’m glad you did.”

Ash’s chest rose sharply. Sliding his hand to the side of my face, he drew back. I fought against him lifting my head.

“Sera? Let me see you.” His thumb smoothed over my jaw. “Please.”

Please.

I could never deny him.

My eyes remained closed as I stopped resisting, letting him lift my head.

“Oh, Sera.” His fingers brushed under my cheek. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.”

His chuckle was strained as if a heavy weight bore down on him. “Liessa.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “I see your tears. Feel them.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” he assured me. “Just tell me why.”

I lifted a shoulder. At this moment, there were too many reasons. I went with the easiest one. “I thought I was going to be alone.”

“I’d never allow that—not awake or in my dreams. Never.” He drew the backs of his fingers over my other cheek. “Open your eyes for me.”

Taking a breath, I did as he requested. Tears clung to my lashes.

His gaze searched my face as intently as it did when he counted my freckles. Except there was an edge to how he traced every inch of it, almost frantically. The wisps of essence pulsed in his eyes and then calmed. “It’s odd.”

“What is?”

He caught another tear, and this time, I saw the faint smear of red staining his finger. “I’m dreaming.”

I thought it was strange how he spoke as if this were his dream. He’d done that last time, too, and I still couldn’t understand why my subconscious had him doing that. Something tugged at the back of my mind again. It was the same sensation I’d had the first time I dreamt of him. It was as if I should know why, but that didn’t make sense, and the feeling fluttered away as quickly as it came on.

“Yet I can still sense your emotions,” he continued. “You’re feeling so much—the woodsy, refreshing wash of relief, and the heavier, thicker weight of concern. There’s something…sweet in the midst of it all, too.” His brows knitted, and I wondered what the sweetness meant to him. “But there’s so much anguish—tangy, biting anguish.”

Another tremor went through me. “I’ve missed you.”

Ash smiled faintly, but it was closed-lipped and didn’t reach his eyes, didn’t turn the silver into warm sterling. “It’s more than that. I know it is.” The crease between his brows deepened. “My mind feels…disjointed. Unsettled. But I think I was awake for a period of time.” His jaw hardened. “I remember struggling against chains—ones I’d created. I remember hearing his voice.”

My breath snagged as shadows appeared beneath his flesh. “Kolis?” I flinched as I said his name.

The shadows darkened. “His. Others.” His hand glided over my cheek again as his stare bore into mine, and then his hand kept going, brushing back the curls from my shoulder, my neck. His gaze dropped.

I stiffened in his arms. Was he looking for the bite? Was it even visible in a dream? The injuries he’d seen last time hadn’t appeared until I was about to wake up.