Blood and battle, fear and flight. Climbing high, diving deep.
Her dream lover taking her mouth, taking her body, making her ache with feelings. So much. Too much. Never enough. Her own laughter, barely recognized, sprung from joy. Tears shed, flooding from grief.
And in the darkness, a light burned through. In the darkness, she held fire in her hand. As she held it up, for all to see, the earth quaked, rocks tumbled. What was fury flew at her with claws and teeth.
For God’s sake, Sasha, wake up! Get your ass moving.
“What?” She woke with a start, the voice still echoing inside her head, her heart still thumping with fear.
Just another dream, she told herself, just one more to add to her collection.
The light had softened, and lay now like silk over the water. She had no idea how long she’d slept, but the dream voice had something right. It was time to wake up.
She showered off the travel, changed into fresh clothes. Since she wasn’t working, she left her hair down. She ordered herself out of the room. She’d go down, sit on the terrace, have a drink. She’d come, given up her quiet and alone, and come.
Now something or someone needed to come to her.
She found her way out, strolled under a pergola thickly twined with wisteria already starting to bloom. Its scent followed her as she turned away from the pool, the canvas sling chairs lined up around its skirt, toward a stone terrace. Clay pots gloriously crowded with flowers of hot reds and purples glowed as the sun wheeled west. The fronds of palm trees hung still.
Tables under shading umbrellas—all in bright white—scattered over the stone. She noted only a few were occupied, and was grateful. Not solitude perhaps, but quiet. She thought to take one a bit apart from the others, started to angle away.
The woman also sat a bit apart. Her short, sun-streaked brown hair had long bangs that swept down to the amber lenses of her sunglasses. She sat back, her bright orange Chucks propped on the other chair of her table for two as she sipped something frothy out of a champagne flute.
The light shimmered for a moment, and Sasha’s heart stuttered with it. She knew she stared, and couldn’t stop. And understood why when the woman tipped down her sunglasses, and stared back over them.
The eyes of a wolf, tawny and fierce.
Sasha fought back the urge to simply turn around, go back to her room where it was safe. Instead she mentally shoved herself forward and walked over while those golden eyes appraised her.
“I’m sorry,” she began.
“For what?”
“I . . . Do you know me?”
The woman raised her eyebrows under the long bangs. “Are you somebody I should know?”
I know your face, Sasha thought. I’ve seen it countless times.
“Could I sit down?”
The woman angled her head, continued her cool, unblinking study. Carelessly she slid her feet off the chair. “Sure, but if you’re thinking about hitting on me, except for a one-nighter in college, I stick with men.”
“No, it’s not that.” Sasha sat, tried to find her bearings. Before she could, a waiter in a white jacket stopped by the table.
“Kalispera. Could I bring you a drink, miss?”
“Yes, actually, yes. Ah, what are you drinking?”
The woman lifted her glass. “Peach Bellini.”
“That sounds just right. Would you like another? I’ll buy you a drink.”
Under her thick sweep of bangs, the woman’s eyebrows lifted. “Sure.”
“Two then, thanks. I’m Sasha,” she said when he left to fill the order. “Sasha Riggs.”
“Riley Gwin.”