Dream?
980 Words
A dense silence engulfs the room.
Die? I would have to die to break this bond?
"We love Logan, so it looks like you'll have to make the sacrifice, Elena." Luther said giving me a smug smile.
I step back in alarm but Annarose smacks him on the head.
Stop scaring her! We need to find another way!
"We will find another way to break this bond, Tomorrow morning meet me in the library." Logan said not less than a command.
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That night, I expected sleep. What I didn’t expect was him in my dreams.
Not just appearing, but feeling.
We weren’t just standing in the same dream—we were inside the same heartbeat.
In the dream, I was in a forest soaked in moonlight, the trees whispering secrets in languages I didn’t understand. And there he was—Logan—standing barefoot in the middle of the clearing, his shirt open, his skin marked with glowing silver veins.
He looked at me, but not with his usual sarcasm or cool detachment. His eyes were hungry—haunted.
“Elena,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
I nodded before I could lie. And then our bond surged. My chest ached with emotions that weren’t mine—longing, guilt, rage… temptation. I felt his craving in my throat. And he felt my fear in his.
He whispered, “This bond is getting stronger.”
The trees shifted. The moon bled red.
We were pulled toward each other like magnets, and just before his hand touched mine—I woke up.
My heart was racing. I sat upright in the bed, sweating, trembling, and somehow… wanting more.
What is happening to me? And why this is happening to me? Can logan also have felt these?
——————————————————————
In the morning we didn’t wait. After breakfast (and a third reminder from Logan not to call him Mr. Logan), we began researching ways to break the Blood Moon Bond.
The problem? Most books said it was unbreakable.
“Of course it is,” I muttered, slamming one dusty tome shut. “Nothing in my life can ever be simple.”
“There are rumors,” Logan said, flipping through an ancient grimoire, “that one being has the power to sever it. Not just suppress it—destroy it.”
I looked up. “Who?”
He met my gaze. “The Grim Reaper.”
I choked. “Death himself?!”
Logan shrugged. “Not just death. The keeper of all soul contracts. If anyone can undo a bond like this… it’s him.”
“But how do we find him?”
He looked grim. “We don’t. He finds you.”
—————————————————————
LATER IN THE EVENING,
I found him in the library, standing by the fire with a glass of dark-red wine in his hand that I was 90% sure wasn’t wine. His coat was gone, his sleeves rolled up, and the warm firelight cast gold shadows across his sharp features.
The dream still clung to me like fog.
I had seen Logan in it—not just a shadow of him, not the usual flickers through the bond—but his eyes, his voice, the way he looked at me like I belonged to him.
It wasn’t just a dream.
It felt like something more.
I swallowed the butterflies.“Logan,” I said quietly.
He looked up instantly, like he’d felt me coming. Of course he had.
“I need to ask you something,” I continued, stepping closer. “The dream I had… you were there.
"I know." He said talking a step forward “You felt it too,” I said.
He nodded. “The bond… it’s evolving.”
But it didn’t feel like just a dream. something about the bond different.”
He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at me with that unreadable gaze he used whenever he didn’t want to lie but didn’t know how much truth I could take.
“Elena…” he finally said, voice low. “The bond between us—it’s not staying static. It’s adapting. Shifting. Becoming… deeper.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Is it just magic, or are we changing too?”
He stepped closer.
“It means I’m starting to feel things I shouldn’t,” he said, eyes never leaving mine. “And if it keeps evolving, we won’t be able to tell which thoughts are ours and which are each other’s. Desire. Pain. Fear. Want.”
I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until he was only inches away.
“Is that why I saw you in the dream?” I asked, voice barely a whisper.
“Maybe,” he murmured, “or maybe because I wanted you to.”
The air between us pulsed. His hand hovered near my face but didn’t touch. His control was iron. But I felt it—how badly he wanted to. How badly I wanted him to.
“I don’t know where this is going,” I said softly.
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “But I know one thing.”
“What?”
“If this bond keeps evolving, it won’t just connect us. It’ll consume us.”
He turned away first, breaking the moment, the tension snapping like a thread stretched too tight.
But even as he walked to the other side of the room, the space between us still burned.
- Writer
