The Dream Crafter (5 page)

It was the mundane, the ordinary that attracted her, and that’s what she wanted to live in the dreams. Sometimes she was fulfilling their wishes too, like when she was the granddaughter of a woman who baked wedding cakes and was thrilled when her granddaughter announced she wanted to join the business. In real life, that woman was selling her bakery, too old to keep it up any longer and with no family to pass it to. With Amana though, for one night the old woman could let go of that regret.

Other times there was no deep secret or wound to help heal. It was only the everyday world in its everyday joys and sorrows. Working beside the clerks at the local post office, all of them rolling their eyes in shared camaraderie after a particularly difficult customer walked out the door. Or running around after several three-year-olds in preschool – enjoying every moment but still collapsing in exhaustion at the end of the day.

As Amana settled into her sheets to bring about sleep, a barrage of faces flickered past closed eyelids, friends met during her wanderings.

Now that she thought about it, it had only ever been friends she had met up with. She had never wandered into a dream of someone she didn’t like, no one violent or evil. Why was that? Chance? Or did some part of her power direct her to the people she needed, the ones who kept her going when her waking hours did nothing but break her down and chip away at the will to continue?

That had to be true. Hundreds and hundreds of meetings, and none of them hurtful or damaging to her. It couldn’t be an accident.

Take the man from yesterday. Everything about him was beautiful, exciting in ways she hadn’t known she liked until she saw it on him.

The smile, and those biceps, and the smooth tones of his voice as he talked to her, and the looks he gave her, banked heat and appreciation in his gaze, but it was more than that. His words and actions were respectful of her, giving her space, always waiting that one moment before making another move to make sure she was comfortable with him progressing.

Not many men she was around on a daily basis bothered with that. To them, she was a piece to play with and display, and if her wants even entered their minds for a moment, she’d keel over in shock.

Longing swept over her, a craving to be near him, to let the hollowness of this day fade in his presence. If she had to use this damn power, she wanted to use it to get to him.

Let this power give her at least one good thing in this life. Let her have one happy memory associated with it.

The thick black markings on his arms came to her mind. As a rule she didn’t like tattoos, considering the ones she was most associated with meant gangs and warfare, but his sparked something primal in her. The way they highlighted and curved over the thick muscles of his arms, on him it only spoke strength, a primitive show of superiority, a bold display of power.

How much of his body was covered by those lines? There was a hint of tattoo under his hair at the neckline, which she saw when the wind lifted it for only a moment. Which meant his back had to have at least some amount of ink as well. How far down would it go? Would it only be at the tops of his shoulders, or would it trail down the length of his torso, beckoning the gaze to follow the line of his back?

He was in front of her now, in a sleeveless t-shirt, the lines of those tattoos stark against the white fabric. He had such wide shoulders it created a noticeable V as they led to a slim waist, and the only word that came to mind to describe his rear end under those grey sweats was
plush
, waiting to be bit into like a juicy piece of fruit.

As if he sensed her staring he turned, surprise and confusion and joy and suspicion warring to become the prominent emotion on his face. He looked down at his arms, head moving in wide sweeps as he took in the limbs. With that done, only joy and surprise remained in his expression, and a smile made of equal parts sensual and delighted took over his face. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

She’d done it. She’d gone into a dream on purpose.

Fear leapt at her with unexpected force, blossoming in her chest with this first use of power in so long. Now was her turn to look around, to look for danger, to see what she invited with this use of power.

Yet there was no other, nothing hanging along the edges, ready to strike out at her the moment she let down her guard. It seemed she was safe. Just maybe, she was safe.

Giddiness – with this victory, with this meeting – suffused her voice. “I couldn’t wait to see you.” It was true. The only person outside of her family she had ever felt that way about, and with only one meeting she felt secure with him, a deep-seated happiness that
was
, without explanations as to why. It just was, and she needed that so much today.

“Glad I’m here to oblige then.” He tipped an imaginary hat towards her, the chivalrous gesture both ridiculous and endearing, and a swell of delight rose through her.

He held his hand out to her, and as her fingers entangled with his, the scenery around them changed to a city street on a summer day, the tantalizing smell of spices and roasting meat heavy in the air, dark-skinned children running past them barefoot, laughing as they kicked a ball around the group and evading the scolding adults they occasionally ran into. “Where are we?”

“A place I like,” he said, pulling her down the street as he placed her hand in the crook of his arm, settling her against him in a protective movement.

It was the first time with her power that the other person had any say in the surroundings, and she still wasn’t sure how it had happened. There had been nothing concrete, nothing in her own mind that told her to shift here.

“Is everything okay?” The concern in his voice brought the threat of tears, and she didn’t want to cry, not again. But he was the only one who had showed concern, and tenderness, and it was so tiring being alone all the time.

“No.” The word slipped out before she could think, before she could remind herself trusting others was never a good idea, even in a dream. “No, it’s not.”

He nodded, but said nothing, only brought her in closer to his body. There were no false words of how everything would be fine, no admonishing her to look at the good side, or spoken promises to fix things. It was instead silent comfort, and it soothed her in a way nothing had for a very long time.

They wandered to a park, nothing more than a large green space surrounded by a trail and a few trees and flowers. There were a few small groupings of people picnicking, with the littler kids still running around together no matter if they were boys or girls. The teenagers were separated by gender, alternating speaking in their little groups and looking toward the other, laughing and giggling when a glance was intercepted, the one caught looking away with chagrin written over their face and the catcalls or giggles of the others in the group loud in their ears.

He didn’t head for any of the people. Instead they walked around the little trail. The flowers were plentiful and colorful, beautiful in the way that spoke of a lot of upkeep and love, but not in the precise lines of a manicured garden. This instead suggested the community cared for it as a whole, working as they could to keep it up, with no forethought or plan attached. “I like it here too.”

“It’s a good place when things become too much.” He said it not as someone remembering long ago days of trials, but someone going through the hell of now. She wasn’t the only one with burdens, and she squeezed his arm to show support.

“We’re both so cheerful, aren’t we?” Her gentle tease was worth the smile that lit his face, showing white teeth and that adorable dimple.

“Yeah. Enough of that, or I’m handing in my guy card.”

She bumped him with her hip, the move making him stutter-step, though more in surprise than any ability of hers to move him, their arms separating at the motion. “Oh yeah? What rule are you breaking?”

The half-shock on his face was comical, but it was the thread of disbelief, of confusion under it that had her own humor dimming some. Could this be the first time anyone had ever teased him like this? Before her brother was taken, they were always physical with each other, playful touches that showed how much they loved each other. Did he have any of that?

Amana forced the disquieting thought down before it could show on her face, not wanting him to become self-conscious, and concentrated on only the delight he expressed.

He came back from the surprise by putting his hands on his hips, staring at her. “The rule that says a man shall not bring down the lady in his company.” He grasped at her hand and pulled her so she stood in front of him, their faces so close to each other. “It’s doubly wrong when said lady has the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in his life.”

“Prettiest? That’s a high standard.” Her voice came out breathier than she wished, but he was right here, those tattoos within reach and the dimple on display. She didn’t stand a chance.

“Trust me, second place is so far behind you there is no comparison.”

It didn’t feel like a line. Only sincerity and appreciation showed in those eyes, the honey color strong, and he lowered his head to hers.

It was slow, and she had ample time to pull away if she desired. She didn’t, and the first brush of lips was a light caress, a small question. In answer she pressed herself closer, absorbing his warmth into herself, letting it melt the cold that had enveloped her at the earlier meeting and had yet to thaw.

His hands cupped her face and brought her closer, the kiss was kept soft. His fingers roamed over her forehead, down her temples to push back into the fall of her hair. Her hair was twisted in his hand, firm but not painful, as though he was trying to tether himself to her.

His tongue came out to run along her bottom lip, the warmth and wetness creating in her a similar answer. She parted her lips, letting him explore however he desired.

What he desired was slow. There was no rough handling, no grasping at her. Instead each brush against her spoke of cherishing, protecting. He was firm, in charge, demanding, but he took nothing that wasn’t freely offered.

They separated, and only then she noticed how heavy their breathing was, how dark his eyes had become. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a better kisser.”

“Yeah?” His gaze roamed her face, taking in all the little details. Did he see the small scar the side of her temple? Or the one beneath her jaw, that curve where it met her neck? If he did, he didn’t ask about either of them. Instead, he said, “Prettiest eyes, too.”

“They’re only dark brown.”

He gave a snort of a laugh, the sound enough to break the tiniest bit through the sexual tension. “That is such a girl thing to do.”

“What?”

“When you get a compliment, you turn around and say why the compliment isn’t valid. Trust me, I saw your eyes are dark brown. They’re still the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

“I am a girl.” The protest was weak, and she gave a huff of laughter herself. “I’ll try not to be such a girl next time.”

“Only in that way. In every other way I like that you’re a girl.”

“I never would have guessed.” Wait, did she just
flutter
her eyelashes at him? If she kept this ridiculousness up, she was going to dream up a copy of herself, just to come over and smack some sense into her.

He brushed his fingers over her cheek, intent in a way she’d never known. Men in her acquaintance were intent with money, with bloodshed, with cars or electronics or any of the thousands of other things that showed how wealthy and powerful they were. Never did they take any care of the women surrounding them. Sure, there was money thrown around, spa days to make sure the women were lacquered and primped, jewelry placed to showcase not the woman but the extreme amount of wealth such large rocks must have cost.

To the men she knew, women weren’t women. They were either mannequins or fuck toys, and outside of those uses, there was no reason for them to exist.

This man – a stranger she knew in dreams and didn’t yet know his name – trailed his fingers down her arm and curled them around her hand. He brought her hand up, and on her palm he gave a kiss that was warm lips and warm breath and so gentle her heart stuttered in her chest.

“I don’t want to leave here. I don’t want to go back.” The words escaped, words that came from deep inside, buried under obligation to Nakoa and words she would never allow herself to utter with forethought.

A shadow passed over his eyes, and he molded her fingers to his face, burying his cheek into the skin of her palm. “Would you stay with me here?”

“Can I?”
But even as the words escaped, it was all hopeless, all vain imagining. Her life belonged to her brother. Maybe now it also belonged to the Guild, because though she could fool herself as much as the next person, she couldn’t see them letting her escape from their grasp. But no matter how she wished it, her life did not and could not belong with a man who had honey-colored eyes and striking tattoos, and it was time to put this dream away.

Amana woke up, trails of tears flowing over her cheeks to be absorbed by the bed linen below.

‡