Liam stood in a sunlit forest clearing he hadn't seen in eight years. Blackwood territory. Home. The massive redwoods towered overhead, their ancient trunks wider than cars, their canopy filtering the light into patterns that danced across the forest floor. The air smelled of pine and earth and something uniquely Californian that he'd never been able to name.
He knew he was dreaming. Knew it wasn't real. But that didn't stop his heart from squeezing painfully when Victoria stepped into the clearing.
She looked exactly as he remembered—chestnut hair falling in waves past her shoulders, green eyes bright with intelligence and warmth, the small scar at the corner of her left eyebrow from a childhood accident. She wore her favorite faded jeans and the UC Berkeley sweatshirt she'd stolen from
