Chapter 32: Grief Stricken
Kinsley’s POV
I dream of my mate, like I do every night. Terron’s touch has something special in it, a certain spark, the same little zap he felt when he found me under Ace’s control in the rogue camp. I still can’t believe I didn’t get that initial shock of finding my mate.
Now I just beg for an inch of that feeling, my dreams taunting me with Terron’s light eyes and his gentle stroke across my cheek. He brushes my hair back and kisses my lips. I feel myself kiss him back, too.
“Terron,” I breathe, weeping for his lips in reality.
“I’m right here, Kinsley.”
I sit up quick, slamming my head against a wall and sending spots into my right eye. I hold on to my bruising temple, blinking back into sight the little bedroom Conner gave me by force.
But instead of a wall where I connected my head into, it’s Terron, his palm pressed into his red, pained forehead where we hit one another.
I look at him cautiously. For a dream, he looks pretty realistic.