Sometime later, her sobs had slowed to occasional hitching breaths.

“Do something, dammit!” Ram’s demanding roar startled her.

He sounded angry, more so than when she’d walked away and left him tied to the bed—which she didn’t think possible.

She rolled to her back in the rumpled bed, drained and rather hazy.

“I’m sorry, Ram. We’ve done everything.”

“Do more,” he fired back.

What was Juna doing with Ram in his bedroom? She sat up, prepared to tell them both to go away, she’d had enough.

“There is nothing more we can do. I’m so sorry.” The bleak finality of Ellar’s statement settled like an oppressive weight on her chest. His treatment hadn’t worked. There was no hope.

She looked around, discovering that the blackness had already surrounded her. In the void, there was comfort in the nothingness. She wouldn’t have to bear her guilt or Ram’s disappointment, his anger, and contempt. Or the unbearable loss when he left and took their child, the one part of him she had, with him. Nothing had changed, and this series of dreams served to remind her why it never would.

Her chest ached from crying, the fatigue overwhelming. She was tired of fighting whatever held her in this relentless limbo. With nothing left to do, she wanted to sleep and forget.

“Eryn, you can’t go.” Ram’s baritone rumbled close to her ear. “We have unfinished business, you and I.”

Yes, that’s what she was afraid of.

“You are a worthy opponent, little rebel. Who will I spar with if you go? Who will challenge my arrogance when no one else does? And who will curl up against me at night? Do you know how much I’ve missed having your soft curves pressed against me?”

Wait. He misses me? If he hated her, how could this be?

“And who will help me raise our daughter to be a strong, capable woman, not a man’s doormat as you call our Primarian women, although I still take exception to that. I want her to be like her mother, beautiful, confident, determined not to take any shit, as you say, from the mate who will eventually claim her one day.”

Okay, now I know I’m hallucinating. Never in one hundred lifetimes could she imagine Ram bending enough to encourage a female’s independence. Except, perhaps, his own daughter.

Maybe they did have more to discuss. To do so, she needed to find him. She rose from the bed, searching the darkness, twisting one way then another for a clue to the way out.

“I can’t stand this constant limbo,” she muttered. “Stuck in the past, unable to move forward, fading in and out without rhyme or reason.” Then louder, “Please, let me out.”

“Too late,” a voice answered, or was it two?

“I want to help her, but have exhausted my skills.”

Shaded with sorrow, the first belonged to Juna. The other sounded eerie and cold, sending a shiver down her spine. She spun again, squinting into the blackness surrounding her then stopped, closing her eyes.

No, she didn’t want to know, thinking if she did, the words might come true.

Pulling from her dwindling energy reserves, she began walking, doing so blindly, fear taking hold. What if there was no way out because she’d run out of time? She moved faster, eyes scanning the pitch-black, finding nothing.

A sudden pain stabbed her side, and the air whooshed from her lungs. She struggled to catch her breath, but a steel band squeezed her chest. On a ragged wheeze, she stumbled, going down to her knees.

“Ram, help me, please,” she called between short gasps. It may be hopeless, but she needed to try.

As her weak cries tore from her raw burning throat, Ram’s strong arms encircled her, holding her close. In spite of her suffering, they brought a sliver of comfort. Then, a splash of something hot hit her cheek.

Thin and watery, it rolled across her skin like a tear, though it wasn’t her own.

“Please, little rebel,” came his husky whisper in her ear. “Don’t leave.”

Disbelief, elation, hope… Bittersweet emotions crashed over her as another tear hit her check. Somehow, despite everything, he must have forgiven her. If this strong, fearless, warrior cried for her, it meant she had a hold on his heart. No matter how slight or tenuous, she could work with that.

Summoning what strength she had left, she struggled to her feet and took a staggering step forward. Or she thought it was forward, finding it hard to tell in the sea of blackness. Believing this place a rest stop between the two worlds, she couldn’t recall ever being lucid while in the void. The sense of being lost and, at the same time, trapped filled her with confusion and fear.

Perhaps, it really was too late.

The sharp pain returned, so intense it doubled her over. The brief moment of hope and renewed determination faded.

“Bring Cierra to me,” Ram’s broken voice ordered. “I want her to know her mother’s touch.”

Cierra? Her heart ached, although in a good way.

Since learning she was pregnant, she’d scribbled names in an old journal—trying them out. Every day she’d add to the running list, including Ram’s name in the baby boy column, regardless of her denials. After she found out for sure, she’d pared it down. For a girl, the short list had consisted of one name: Cierra.

That he knew meant he’d been to her room, gone through her things, and found her journal. Had he read beyond the list of baby names? She’d never been one to keep a journal, but not long ago, because of her secret, she’d found it helpful to put her thoughts down on paper. Had Ram seen the pages in the back where she’d poured out her feelings, most often after dreaming of him? The notebook was filled with her regret, guilt, and more intimate thoughts. Was that why he was here with her now and had been every time she’d awakened?

So many unanswered questions made her realize he’d been right all along. They did have unfinished business, and she wasn’t ready to give up without a fight. Not on her baby or on Ram or herself, and she hoped Juna and the voice in the darkness were wrong, that it wasn’t too late.

She dug deep and scrambled to her feet, moving forward again, letting Ram’s words and the promise of Cierra spur her on. Ahead, a fissure of light glowed in the blackness, and she veered toward it. As she ran, her lungs burned like fire. She coughed, struggling to keep going. Her hands flew to her throat and clawed at whatever seemed to be keeping her from drawing a breath.

“Take it out, dammit,” Ram demanded. “Can’t you see she can’t breathe?”

“It’s helping her do exactly that,” Juna replied.

“You claim she is dying, so what the hell difference does it make? If she wants it gone, get rid of it.”

A baby whimpered in the distance. Cierra.

Gasping, choking, and bucking against the constricting machines and her frozen body, she struggled to get to her daughter, and Ram.

“As you wish,” Juna conceded.

A moment later, the tube slid from her throat. Her eyes flew wide, as though a spell had been broken. Then, she took what seemed like her first deep breath in days. Coughing, her throat raw and on fire, tears flowing down her face, she managed one weak raspy word. “Ram.”

His face appeared above her, the image wavering and watery, yet she knew, after so many days of seeing her dream man, this one was the real thing.

“Eryn… By the Maker,” he exclaimed, his voice rough. “I thought you were lost to us.”

“Heard…you call…” she stammered, croaking like a frog with laryngitis. She forced out one more desperate word. “Cierra?”

“Don’t talk. Our daughter is here—strong, healthy, and beautiful—and she wants to meet you.”

Through a pool of tears, she watched Ram move away. When he came back into view, he held a bundle of pink in his arms. At the top of the swaddled blanket, a thick shock of glossy midnight hair peeked out. Eryn tried to say more, but sobbed instead.

“Save your strength,” he commanded mildly. “And let me properly introduce you to Cierra Nicole.”

He had read her journal.

Not only had he given her the name she’d selected, but also her mother’s name. The invasion of her privacy should have upset her, but she couldn’t muster a hint of outrage, because, at that moment, he laid the small bundle on her chest. Like in her dream, his strong hands supported their baby girl where she couldn’t, and with her heart bursting with happiness, she gazed for the first time into her daughter’s face. With rosy-pink cheeks, a sweet little bowed mouth, and stunning green eyes, with tiny flecks of gold. She was perfect. Seeing her own mark upon her daughter moved her to tears. Other than that; Cierra looked exactly like her father, right down to the dimple in her baby-soft cheek.

Her tired gaze connected with his as she lay weak and helpless, like an infant herself, against her pillow. He gave her a soft smile, his eyes gentle. A warm glow of happiness passed through her, something that had been absent for a very long time.

“Ram…” Her strength gone, his name came out in a whisper.

He shook his head. “Rest now. Cierra and I will be here waiting when you wake again.”

With the light press of his lips on her forehead, offering sweet comfort, she gave in. Without visions, imaginings, or confusing skewed memories from the past, she welcomed the first dreamless sleep in what seemed like an eternity.