Page 10 of Shifting Hearts 1
FIVE
Dreams That Burn
Paris
Heat.
That’s what I remember first. Not the warmth of blankets or fire, but something hotter. Wilder. A furnace under my skin, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
And him. Ranger.
The dream clings to me like smoke even as I wake. Ranger’s hands—rough and strong—pinning me down, his mouth on mine, his growl vibrating against my throat. His weight pressing me into the mattress, his name ripped from my lips like a plea.
I jerk awake, breath catching in my throat.
The cabin swims into focus. Firelight flickers low in the stove. My body aches, my skin damp with sweat, my thighs pressed tight together beneath the quilt. My pulse is still racing, my core throbbing with a need that isn’t fading.
It felt so real. Too real. It takes me a moment to realize he’s here.
Ranger sits on the edge of the bed, half-turned toward me, shadows cutting across his sharp jaw. His shoulders are hunched, his fists clenched tight on his thighs. His eyes are on the floor, but his body is wound so tight it looks like he might shatter.
The dream slams back into me. My stomach flips. Goddess, did I…?
Heat floods my face. I can still feel it, the way I whispered his name in the dream, the way my body moved against the sheets, desperate for more.
What if it wasn’t only a dream?
The silence stretches, heavy. My throat dries. I lick my lips and whisper, “You stayed.”
His head lifts slightly, his storm-grey eyes locking on mine. There’s something raw there, something that makes my chest ache.
“You were restless,” he says gruffly. His voice is low, tight, like every word is dragged from him against his will. “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
I swallow hard. My dream echoes in my body, in the bond that hums louder than ever. I shift beneath the quilt, and the brush of fabric against my thighs nearly makes me gasp.
“Did I…” My voice cracks. I can’t finish.
His jaw clenches. He looks away, his nostrils flaring, his body going rigid. The answer is in the way he doesn’t answer. Mortification crashes over me. Goddess. I did. I moaned his name in my sleep. I begged for him like some desperate fool.
I curl into the blanket, wishing it could swallow me whole. Shame stings hot behind my eyes. First Gabriel rejected me in front of everyone, and now this…. making a fool of myself in front of the one man who already makes it clear he doesn’t want me.
“Paris.” His voice is sharp, pulling me back.
I force myself to meet his gaze.
“You don’t have to be ashamed.” His tone is harsh, but his eyes burn, softer, conflicted. “It’s the bond. It pulls at us both. You can’t fight your body for wanting what fate demands.”
I flinch. His words aren’t cruel, but they cut all the same. Because fate already gave me one mate. And he rejected me. What if Ranger does too?
The fear curls sharp in my chest, twisting the ache of desire into something darker. I turn away, burying my face in the pillow, whispering so low I’m not sure he can hear.
“I don’t think I can survive being unwanted twice.”
The words hang heavy in the cabin, filling the silence like smoke.
Ranger’s jaw flexes, his fists clenching tight on his thighs. For a long moment, I think he’ll leave, storm out into the night, and not come back. My chest squeezes, waiting for the sound of the door.
Instead, his voice comes low and rough, right beside my ear. “Do you honestly think I don’t feel it too? The bond? You think I’m not fighting it every damn second I’m near you?”
