Ambitious Dreams

Diana

My eyes suddenly opened. I sighed and couldn't figure out why though. It was dark, the power still out from the night before. Talking and drinking with Michael felt surreal and far more normal and natural than it should.

I glanced around his room, trying to figure out what could have woken me. Michael wasn't lurking behind anything, the windows were shut obviously, but the room was cold, perhaps that had what woken me.

I was usually a warm person, but with the power out, the heat was off, and surprisingly Michael didn't have a fireplace in his room. I spotted another cover by the lounge chair and threw back the covers to get it. I grabbed the blanket. It was soft like real fur and yes, very warm. I wrapped it around me and started back for the bed when something caught my eye.

I stopped at the window and peered out into the glistening snow and watched carefully. It was beautiful up here; I had been so focused on the events and Michael that I almost missed where I was. Instead of a cabin in the forest, it was more like a mansion in the forest, but somehow it still worked.

After I stood a while and nothing moved, I started to leave when I finally saw it--two yellow eyes glowing between the trees. I gasped and turned to leave when suddenly my feet were even colder, the falling flakes that hit the glass windows now melted on my face as I was standing on the forest floor. My breath floated away from me as I panted, frantically wondering how I ended up here.

"Michael?" I gasped. My voice was unable to scream as I should.

"Hello?" I said.

A noise got my attention and it was a sound I shouldn't know but do. I licked my shivering dry lips and slowly tilted my head to the side.

In between two massive trees were yellow eyes; I knew they were fixated on me. Hot breath hazed from an open jaw, and teeth the size of my fingers were dripping with saliva. The creature huffed, then growled. Clenching the covers around me, I swallowed loudly and took a timid step back. The animal's eyes fixed on a snarl, and I just got a glimpse of its monstrous paw before it charged at me.

I screamed and my eyes opened up, but this time not in a dream. I kicked my blankets off and tumbled to the ground, still trying to escape what I rationally now knew was a dream, and yet the disconnection still drove me forward to safety. I just got myself somewhat under control when my door slammed open.

I screamed again, but when I spotted Michael's form, I knew everything would be okay. I knew he won't let anything hurt me.

He spotted me and rushed to me. He lifted me up too easily and spun me around checking for wounds.

"I'm fine. It was a dream." I said, my voice saying words my tone didn't match.

I waved toward the window. "I thought I saw something, but it was a waking dream, or just a dream-dream, I don't know."

He left me and went to the window. I studied his bare chest, noticing his breathing coming in quickly and sharply. What sounded like a growl found me as he tossed back the curtains to each window before going to the next.

"I'm telling you it was a dream Michael, then I fell out of the bed," I tried to reassure him.

"Boss?" said a new voice. I turned as a bulky black man filled up every inch of the door frame.

"Andrew, check the perimeter. I already have Francis on the outer, report back to me. Go!" he ordered the newcomer.

Andrew nodded and took off; I could hear his heavy steps on his departure and wondered how I missed his approach. Michael came back to me, stopping just inches away from me, forcing me to look up at him.

"Are you sure you're okay? Your leg?" he asked.

The concern on his face broke down my defenses and enabled that damsel in distress syndrome that every woman possessed and could call forth at the opportune time.

"Yes," I said again.

He was so close to me; I could feel the heat pouring off of him. I couldn't help but leave the safety of his perfect face and continued downward to look over him, his neck, thick with fresh stubbles, his wide shoulders, his chest, with few hairs on it. My heart was pounding as I continued my slow and unashamed assessment of his form.

"I've been having so many nightmares lately," I said, my breath shaky as I fought the urge to touch him, for his warmth, of course.

"Clearly, drinking with shapeshifters doesn't mix," he said.

I jerked back to his face, mine twisted in confusion.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"Clearly, drinking and shapeshifters don't mix," he repeated, but I could have sworn he said 'with' and not 'and' before.

I nodded and allowed him to lead me back to the bed. He sat down after he pulled the covers over my legs.

"I think more the drinking than the shapeshifters," I said. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"Sure. So what was the dream about then?" he asked me as if knowing I was going to answer werewolf. I pressed my lips together, annoyed I had no argument to counter his facts.

"Well, yes it was about something unnatural. I saw those yellow eyes again, the ones from that night. But according to you, it's a bear," I said, hoping to turn this around on him.

I sat up, my back not enjoying my half-hunched position. I rubbed the top of the covers as I waited for his rebuttal, almost enjoying when we butt heads.

"According to the police, it was a bear. I'm simply saying this obsession with shapeshifters might be affecting you," he said, then leaned back on his hands, bringing him closer to me. "Dreams can tell you a lot about what worries you."

I chuckled. "You sound like my mother."

"Ouch." He laughed, grabbing his heart as if I just stabbed him. I laughed and pulled my legs up and rested on my knees and stared over at him.

"I know I should be scared," I whispered. A normal person would be, but somehow, I knew I didn't have to worry; I had Michael after all. I started to reach my hands to touch his hands, those strong hands that had saved me, protected me, fed me; hands I knew would always keep me safe.

Just as I was about to touch them, I pauses and glance up, feeling his eyes on me. What was I thinking? I didn't have him. He was not mine. He saved me, yes, but I barely knew him. And what's more, I knew he was hiding something from me.

"I should let you sleep," he said but didn't move.

"I am tired," I sniffled, but tired of what I couldn't be sure about. The back and forth in my head of what I felt for this man, the aching of wanting to be close to him, to know him, or to discover all his secrets. He stood up, and I felt his heat leaving with him. He looked down at me, as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind. The door opened when I called him.

"Actually," I sighed, hating what I knew was about to leave my lips. "Can you stay until I fall asleep?" I asked.

He paused at the door and, at first, I thought he was going to ignore me and head out, but slowly the door closed, and he came back to me. I couldn't look away as he lowered to the bed, his actions the only answer I needed.

The tension was thick, almost choking, but I swallowed it down, turned off the light, and pulled the blankets up. Despite him being essentially a stranger, I couldn't deny how safe he made me feel.