Chapter Seven
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The tiniest spark can set an entire prairie aflame.
It was the same dream.
It was always the same.
He was so close to dealing the final blow. He could feel the dragon’s flames licking at his skin, setting him afire. But he didn’t feel the pain. He was too focused on ending the monster.
His sword and dagger were sure. He knew just where to strike.
So close…
Then, suddenly, the dream fell away.
Wolfe was subsumed with pent-up rage. And bereft. For some strange reason, he also felt lost.
When he opened his eyes, he was crouching on all fours, his arms bearing most of his upper body weight, while his lower body pressed more solidly into the ground.
No, not entirely on the ground.
His hips were cushioned by something softer, and his legs were tangled with another’s.
He frowned reflexively. He always slept alone.
First, because he didn’t trust anyone with his nightmares. And second, because he was unpredictably violent when he had them.
There had been a couple of instances when the mercenaries he traveled with had come upon him unawares, and he’d almost killed them in the throes of his dream. Tristan also knew better to come near him when he slept. He was a cold-blooded killer without the restraint of his waking conscience.
His body realized that there was someone pinned beneath him, silent and still, before his mind registered the same.
Fuck.
Had he gone berserker and harmed an innocent? He almost didn’t want to look down.
When he did, his eyes widened with recognition and regret.
Ray.
“No.”
A gust of breath left his body as his heart plummeted.
He cradled that elfin face in his hands. The skin was cool, but not cold. He held shaking fingers above the nose and mouth.
There was breath. Ray was still breathing, though thinly.
He laid his ear against a narrow chest and was relieved beyond words that there was a faint but steady heartbeat. Perhaps he’d simply knocked the breath out of the slightly built elf with his bulk.
He levered himself up to look down again. In so doing, he shifted his hips and pushed his groin deeper into the notch of his victim’s thighs. Finding…
Not what he expected to find.
An honorable man would have heaved off at this point and stood at a proper distance.
Wolfe had never claimed to be honorable.