The stone of Silver-Crest Manor was cold, but the bed was a sea of warmth. After weeks of traversing the rugged Northern territories, the physical exhaustion had finally settled into a deep, heavy languor. Nyx lay in the center of the vast bed, her breathing synchronized with the three men who anchored her.
As sleep claimed them, the boundary between the present and the "what if" began to dissolve. Usually, their shared psychic space was a tactical arena or a place of healing, but tonight, the bond pulled them into something far softer.
The dream didn't start with a bang or a flash of light. It started with the smell of sun-warmed grass and the sound of a distant, melodic stream.
Nyx opened her eyes to a world washed in the golden, perpetual light of a late summer afternoon. She wasn't
