CHAPTER THREE
Elysian
Elysian dreamed that she was sitting in the passenger seat of a truck, the window rolled down so the wind ruffled her hair, just enough to feel like she was flying.
There was a man in the driver’s seat, one who looked to be about her own age, although she suspected he would look younger if he shaved off the stubble shadowing his cheeks and jaw. His hair was dark and so were his eyes, above a soft mouth that curved up into a smile when he turned and saw her looking at him.
His flannel shirt was rolled up to his elbows, showing off powerful tanned forearms. His blue jeans were molded to his legs, showing off muscles sculpted in the way that was common with men who spent a lot of time on horseback. His work boots were perfectly clean, but scuffed and softened with heavy wear. His head was bare, but she was willing to lay money down that she would find a cowboy hat laying on the floor in the back—if she could take her eyes off him long enough to look.
He had, in short, every box she would tick if you could order a person from a catalogue and have them delivered to your door.
That was the wonderful thing about dreams, wasn’t it? The men were always handsome, your hair never blew in your face, and your favorite song was always on the radio.
She reached over and turned it up. The thumping bass and wild guitar grew louder, but so did the lone wolf howling in the background.
Wait, what?
The dream burst like a bubble and Elysian threw herself upright, but the wolf’s mournful howl continued. Or dog, more likely, given that this was suburbia and the nearest wolf was at the Oregon Zoo.
Whatever it was, it sounded really close. Like, on the lawn close.
She swung her feet to the floor and pulled on the old black and white kimono she used as a bathrobe, grumbling as she fumbled her way to the front door. By the time she reached the coat rack she was capable of more sensible thought, and added a proper down parka over the top. She pushed her bare feet into her boots and then swung the door open.
The moon wasn’t full—but was close enough to it that she could see the whole yard, painted silver in the reflected light. The wolf—and it was a wolf, it was impossible to look at it and believe anything else—sat in the center of the lawn, head tipped back and howling.
“Oh my god,” she said. “You’re here. It actually worked.”
She fell to her knees, bumping painfully on the stone porch, but barely noticed. She felt the kind of joy she honestly thought she had grown out of being capable of feeling. It was the joy of waking up on your birthday to the smell of pancakes. It was ‘surprise, we’re going to Disneyland!’ joy. She couldn’t imagine that brides felt better than this on their wedding day.
He was magnificent. His gray fur caught and reflected the moonlight like he was carved from rough opal. His ears perked to attention and he dropped his head, staring at her with deep brown eyes that seemed far too intelligent for a simple animal.
He stepped warily onto the porch, pausing at the bottom step until she opened her arms for him, showing him her empty hands. He stepped into her reach and she buried her hands in the thick fur of his neck, the blood singing in her veins at how incredible her familiar was.
He stepped into her touch and pressed his head against the inside of her forearm. The heavy weight of him suggested a depth of barely restrained strength, and she could feel the outline of his teeth where his muzzle rested inside her elbow, but she couldn’t imagine feeling afraid of him.
He let out a long sigh of contentment, his warm breath tickling the delicate skin of her arm even through the parka, and then began to change. The fur beneath her palms slipped away until she was cupping the powerful muscles of a man’s back. A naked man’s back.
“Hi,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. From all the howling, she thought, biting back a hysterical laugh.
She was still gripping his back, her hands splayed out over his traps. The cold bit at her bare fingers, but didn’t seem to be affecting him in the slightest. Mirroring her grip on him, he brought a hand up to cup the back of her head and stroked his fingers through her hair. He smiled up at her, like she was something precious, and with a jolt she recognized the man she’d been dreaming of only minutes earlier.
“Who are you?” she asked.
The smile dropped off his face. “Oh,” he said. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”