Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

Ford!Mercury reached back to touch him. He was solid and so, so real that it made her ache. But you’re not really here. You’re just a dream.

Does this feel like I’m just a dream?His lips found her neck again, and he kissed the smooth curve where it met her shoulder.

No,she said breathlessly as his kisses sent more heat throughout her body.

I’m real. He kissed her neck to punctuate his words. I’m supposed to be here. I’m meant to be here. I’m destined to be here. I’ll always be here. With you.

I guess that’s why I wanted to go to sleep so badly. I was going to conjure you into my dream.

Bellota, you didn’t conjure me into your dream. You conjured me into your life.

He moved her thick hair and kissed the patch of skin peeking above her T-shirt and then something brushed softly over her skin, causing her to squirm.

His laugh was low and rich and sensuous. You are ticklish. I wondered. I also wondered if you would taste as sweet as I imagined. You do, Bellota. You do.

The butterfly wings tickle stopped when he shifted and dropped something on the pillow beside her face. It didn’t matter that it was so dark that she couldn’t see it. She could smell its sweet scent.

A flower from your grave. I—I thought you’d like it if I made them bloom for you.

I did. I do. I also like your dancing, though next time you waltz, it should be in my arms.

I wish I could dance with you again, but instead I got you killed. I’m so sorry, Ford. I didn’t mean—She reached back to let her fingers sink into his thick, dark hair, but her words broke off as she felt something strange—a hard nub, like a protruding bone or the beginnings of a horn. Wait—what the hell is that?

Soon, Bellota, soon you’ll be ready to understand. Until then, know that I will be near—always and forever. Always and forever…

The cold woke Mercury. She sat suddenly, shivering—and then her dream came flooding back to her, and she spun around to look behind her. Nothing. Khaleesi had moved to her feet and was blinking sleepily up at her.

“Sorry,” Mercury whispered as she leaned to ruffle the dog’s soft ears. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Then she shivered again, only this time from lingering desire. “That was some dream. Wow. My imagination is definitely working on overdrive.” Mercury sighed heavily as grief chased away Ford’s dream presence. She pulled the sleeping bag up and then turned to fluff her pillow—and froze.

There, beside the imprint of her head, rested a single yellow wildflower.