Page 108 of The Unweaver

Cora pulled the covers tight. “My dreams usually are.”

Another step. “Dreams of me?”

The covers came higher. “Maybe.”

He loomed beside the bed, close enough she could stretch out her fingers and follow that trail of dark hair disappearing intohis loose trousers. His eyes, black and ravenous, bored down into her. “Dreams of fuckin’ me?”

Shock robbed her of coherent thoughts. Words caught in her throat. His grim features told Cora that he hadn’t picked this moment to start having a sense of humor.

“You mean— Those dreams— You’ve been—? This whole time?”

At his grave nod, she buried her face in her hands and groaned. Her startled mind reeled. This had to be lunacy. Shared madness. No, shared dreams.

He’d shared all those dreams?

He’d shared all those dreams!

He’d shared all those dreams.

She buried her face deeper in her hands. Bane had shared all that intimacy, too. Kissing her in a sea of tall grass and between her thighs. Pressing her against a door, then almostinsideher. She had stroked his cock, wanting all of him.

A furious blush stained her cheeks. Their unconscious carnality, and its conscious implications, rendered her speechless.

Then came the sudden, piercing realization he’d seen everything else as well. Her death. Felix’s death. Even Father Hoyt’s death. Stories she’d shared with no one, and he’d had a front row seat to all of it. An even greater intimacy than his tongue on her clit.

With a fresh wave of mortification, she drew her knees up and dragged her hands down her face. If only she could sink into the bed and never emerge.

“How is this possible?” She risked a glance between her fingers. “Is it the Binding Agreement?”

The mattress dipped as he sank beside her. Head bowed in a moonlit vigil, he braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed histemples. The muscles of his back rippled, and she had an urge to trace them. She fisted her hands in the silk sheets.

He raked back his hair, gleaming like burnished copper. “An Oneiromancer is entangling our dreams.”

“What? Who?” Struck by a more disturbing question, she sat up further. “Why?”

An Oneiromancer might dream walk between sleeping minds as an unseen observer, if they chose not to reveal themselves. While the dreamers slept, they could implant suggestions, sow seeds of doubt, pull the strings of their subconscious like a puppet. Empires had fallen from the machinations of dream mages.

Through dream entanglement, an Oneiromancer could bridge individual Dreamscapes. Like Cora’s and Malachy’s.

Icy horror twisted in her gut. They’d shared all that intimacy not only with each other but with an unknown Oneiromancer. Two witnesses too many.

“I’m not sure yet.” He turned to her, moonlight bathing his unguarded features in sharp relief. An ocean of unspoken things passed between them. “But they saw everything.”

She gulped. “Everything?”

“Everything. This Oneiromancer is only entangling our dreams, not manipulating them. Building bridges, not tearing down walls. A spectator, not a puppeteer. It feels more… invasive when they’re puppeteering you. This Oneiromancer’s only entangled our dreams when we’re asleep under the same roof. They’re either weak, curious, or a voyeur.”

She released an uneven breath. “Do you know any Oneiromancers?”

“Enough to cause trouble. This one would’ve had to physically touch us both at some point to entangle our dreams like that.”

She shivered. The only Oneiromancers she’d interacted with, as far as she knew, had been quite dead at the time. This one had remained hidden in both the Living and Dream Realms.

“Know any that would force us to have sex and watch?” The light tone she’d attempted came out shrill.

His knee brushed along her thigh as he faced her, watching her with a dark intensity. “Did you feel forced?”

“No.” Her gaze lifted. “Did you?”

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