I turn over once more, the sheets tangling around my legs. I've been tossing and turning for hours, unable to shut down my brain long enough to fall asleep. I flip over to my back with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. I'm tired and I need sleep, but I can't shake the thoughts of Melchior that keep nagging at me. It’s the way he's been acting, spending so much time around me, being so helpful whenever he's in the vicinity...I'm starting to suspect that he might share this attraction I feel for him.

Even apart from how much he seems to like to help me, he likes to spend lunch time with me, seeks me out for conversation. And the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not watching....

I squeeze my eyes shut as that now-familiar tingle of arousal spreads through me. This is ridiculous. I'm not a teenager dealing with raging hormones. Get ahold of yourself, woman!

I don't have time for a distraction like this, but Melchior is like my kryptonite—my mind turns to mush around him, and thoughts of him plague me all the time. Even while I should be focused on the tasks in front of me, on the problems I need to study and fix for all of our sakes.

I don't have time for this!

I turn over to my other side, punching the pillow underneath me even though it's done absolutely nothing wrong. It just has the unfortunate luck of being right there when I need to vent.

Distractions are not what I need right now, but it really doesn't seem to matter. I've never had a problem focusing on work before, but I just can't pull my mind away from him. From his impressive musculature—broad shoulders, muscled arms and legs, his cut torso with that eight-pack, the hard curve of his butt—My fingers curl with the desire to touch all of that delicious body.

Then there are his eyes. I can't look into the emerald depths of his eyes for too long. I can feel myself sinking into them if I hold contact for too long. I avert my gaze regularly for just that reason. But all of that is physical. If it was just physical, maybe I would have a better handle on myself.

But it's not.

The more time I spend with him, the more impressed I am by his giant heart—well, his metaphorical heart. I know the Zmaj have two. So, giant hearts? I roll my eyes at myself. Either way, that empathy he has, that almost innocent masculinity that makes me feel like he'll always be watching over me, or anyone who needs help for that matter.

It's damn near impossible to resist. He's a hero, in the truest sense of the word. And not only in the way most if not all of the Zmaj are. His goodness goes deep down, right to the core of him.

It's who he is.

It's completely shaken my idea of men, like I've encountered something completely alien in him. Okay, that calls for another eye roll. Yeah, technically he is an alien, so I guess I should say he's a completely different type of male.

I still feel like he's the best man I've ever known, regardless of his genetics.

How far off are they really if we can procreate with them? I figure that makes them close enough that the comparison is fair. I know for a fact that it's changed my opinion of men for the better.

Nobody has ever made me lose sleep like this. I brood about that for some time. But, eventually, my body is so tired that I start to drift off despite myself. As tired as I am, I don't fall into a dreamless sleep like I usually do when I'm exhausted. That would be too easy.

Instead, Melchior manages to invade my dreams as well. Granted, it isn't the first time, but the dreams aren't...carnal like the ones I've had before. Although Melchior is featured prominently, they feel less romantic and more focused on Tajss.

I feel a sense of urgency, of need as I'm treated to a sweeping view of Tajss, of the endless red sand, the rocks, the gorgeous but relentless suns. And the wildlife indigenous here, from the ones that are familiar to me like the guster and vtak, to those I haven't seen before, fantastic creatures that are as alien as anything I might have seen in a science fiction movie.

Underground, in the sky, even in water, as rare as that is here. I’m filled with wonder at the vastness of the planet, at the amount of life I would not have expected given the desolate nature of this place.

I frown in my sleep as the wordless emotions grow. But the sense of wonder doesn't last. The images keep shifting, but the emotion with them changes.

It feels...dangerous?

The colors change, turning darker, the overall tone of the dream turning decidedly ominous. No more animals. Each image starts to linger for a longer period of time. Where before the landscape had a vibrant beauty to it, it now appears foreboding, the shadows longer and darker, an eerie stillness to everything.

I begin to feel vulnerable. Like prey knowingly waiting for a predator. I want to turn around, want to make sure nothing is creeping up on me from behind, but I can't. I'm not in charge of this dream.

My view switches to Melchior. I see him in various places. The city, what must be the cave system where the Tribe lives, the desert. I even see myself, which is really disorienting, even in the context of a dream, which I am aware this is. And then Melchior and me together with the red background of Tajss.

We're holding hands now.

Looking at each other.

And then, as one, both the figures turn to look at me. My eyes and his staring at me. The look in both is almost...pleading.

But I have the distinct feeling that the call for aid isn't from either Melchior or me. Something else is staring at me through our eyes. Something much more vast, something so totally different that I can only recognize it's some kind of consciousness, but beyond that...

I focus on Melchior's eyes, on the depth of the green in them, and I start to fall in, start to be sucked into the depths of them, and I can't pull back...

I wake with a jolt, a light layer of sweat covering my body, my breath coming fast, my heart rate elevated. I sit up, taking a deep breath as I push my damp hair off my face.

That was...something.

I glance at the clock. I've only slept for a few hours, but it's already time to get back up and get back to work.

The dream doesn't leave me as I clean up and grab some clothes to throw on. It didn't feel like a regular dream. The emotions were too intense, the images too clear and sharp. I think about that as I leave my quarters and head out to the lab, waving absently when people call out greetings.

"Good morning," I call out to Astarot when I step into the lab. He calls out his own greeting as I sit down at one of the tables.

My brain keeps working on the puzzle of the dream while I keep beating my head against the problem with the glass. While I work through the images, the emotions that bombarded me during the dream, I think it is a kind of message. But what kind?

First I saw the beauty of Tajss, the life here.

Then I saw the same Tajss, but with no life, the images somehow sinister. Like something terrible had happened?

And then Melchior and me holding hands, together. But it wasn't us either. Something else was behind our eyes, asking, pleading for something. Desperate for some kind of help.

Melchior and me together...

Maybe that Tajss needs help? And Melchior and I need to work together? I don't know if I'm interpreting everything correctly, but the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it was a meaningful dream.

I look up when I hear someone else enter the lab.

It's Melchior.

Immediately, a bunch of questions flood my mind, but I look over at Astarot and hold my tongue. I might sound completely crazy peppering Melchior with questions about a dream I had.

"Morning," I murmur instead when Melchior greets me.

Then I pretend to get back to work. It really is pretending this time. I can't focus for the life of me. All I keep doing is replaying segments of the dream over and over again, trying to pick apart what each image might mean.

"Do you need help?" Melchior asks when I try to shift over a heavy part.

"Thank you—would you mind moving it to that end?"

He moves it, and I find myself watching him even more closely than I usually do, but it isn't just because he looks good anymore. Though he does, and I feel the same awareness of his physical proximity that I always do.

I don't know what I'm thinking really. Like maybe I might be able to glean some information from how he looks? That doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense, but I'm at my wits end here.

"Astarot—can I have a word with you?"

It's Visidion.

I feel myself tense as Astarot gets up and steps out with Visidion, leaving Melchior and me alone. I feel a rush of relief, opening my mouth to let loose about the dream.

Melchior beats me to the punch.

"Addison, you were in my dream last night."

I close my open mouth slowly as Melchior settles onto a stool next to me, his expression serious as he scans my face.

Questions flood into my mind. Is this a coincidence? What kind of dream? Did he feel the same emotions? I shake my head as they come one after another. I need to start at the simplest.

"I had a dream with you in it too," I admit, feeling a twinge of fear that I try to suppress. This could be nothing at all—I could be making something out of nothing at all. "What was yours about?"

It will probably be something like a typical dream, maybe a random mix of scenes or events that don't really mean anything.

He frowns, propping his elbow up on the table.

"It began with pictures of Tajss. The landscape, the animals..."

I feel my stomach tighten, my heart sink. "But then it shifted?" I ask, my voice low. I almost don't want to know the answer.

He nods, the set of his mouth grim. "Yes," he agrees, his eyes searching my own. "The images grew darker. Desolate."

"Foreboding?" I ask, fear a steady threat inside me now.

His eyes grow even sharper as he watches me.

"Yes," he says slowly, tilting his head. "Addison...what happened next? I am starting to wonder if..."

"We had the same dream," I finish reluctantly. "On the same night." We're both quiet as we puzzle over that. "Fine. I'll finish it. Maybe we're making something out of nothing here—you tell me." He nods, his gaze watchful. "Okay. After the images change and the animals go away...I saw you. In different places—the city, at the Tribe's home, I think, in the desert."

"I saw you as well," he interjects. "In the city, the desert...and underground."

I feel a chill rush through me, the fine hairs on my arms standing on end.

"And then I saw both of us together. Holding hands," I continued, my throat clicking as I swallowed.

"When I saw our eyes...there was something else in them. Not us," Melchior finishes quietly, his gaze troubled. "It did not feel like a normal dream."

"No," I agree. "It didn't."

We both sit there, quiet.

"Did you...did you feel the emotion at the end?" I ask hesitantly. "Like it was a warning, finishing with a cry for help of some sort? Maybe?"

Melchior nods, even more reluctant than me.

"Their eyes...our eyes...they were asking for something. Perhaps you are right and it was aid."

I shake my head, frowning.

"The warning was about Tajss...is it possible that...Tajss is asking for help?"

It sounds crazy, even crazier said out loud than it did floating around in my head. How are we supposed to help Tajss? How could Melchior and I together possibly accomplish anything worthwhile for something so vast? Which also brings Maeve and Padraig to mind...is it possible Tajss brought them together? Just as it seems to be putting Melchior and me together now? Does the meteorite glass induce some kind of telepathy? Some kind of connection between mates maybe? I feel a thrill at the thought. And I feel my stomach roll simultaneously. I need to calm down.

There was nothing at all romantic about the dream, apart from us holding hands, which could easily be platonic, right?

"It feels like a dream calling us to some type of action," Melchior agrees grudgingly. It is obvious he is loath to come to that conclusion. "But I feel as though we need someone with more expertise to help us determine exactly what it is we think both of us dreamed."

"Bashir," I murmur. He definitely knows a lot more about this, about Tajss in particular.

"Yes. We need to speak with Bashir. Perhaps he can help us with this." He doesn't look at all happy about coming to this conclusion. I can completely relate. But he doesn't close his eyes to the matter or ignore it despite his reluctance. Something I can truly appreciate. "We need to go to the Tribe."

I nod, looking down. I feel completely out of my element here. I don't deal with dreams and emotions. Facts and evidence are where I'm most comfortable. But it looks like I'm about to step right out of my comfort zone.

Hell—it looks like I'm about to be catapulted right out of it.

Whether I want to or not.