Two men stepped out of the shadows and blocked Matt's way in the narrow street. The first folded his arms over his barrel chest and his dark eyes narrowed into a glare. "Well, look who it is, Les."

Les, the opposite of his friend—tall, lean, and blond—curled his hand into a fist. “Well, Roland, I do believe it’s the traitor himself.”

Matt rolled his eyes and laughed humorlessly. It starts, he thought bitterly.

“I hear you knifed your own mother,” Roland said. “Under normal circumstances, I might be impressed.”

“Yeah, but your mom was Kieran,” Les added. “The Kieran.”

“Word travels fast,” Matt noted.

They ignored his comment.

“And why’d he commit this horrific act, Les?”

“For a girl, as I hear it, Roland. Pathetic sap’s got a bleedin’ heart,” Les said mockingly.

“What’s the point?” Matt grumbled. “Do you have a purpose, other than boring me to death?”

“To death,” Les repeated with a snicker. “Oh, that’s on the agenda, isn’t it, Roland?”

“Indeed it is, Les,” his friend agreed.

Matt scoffed. “And who’s going to make that happen?”

They pulled their swords out and pointed them at him. “We are,” they said together.

“Right here in the middle of town?” Matt asked casually. “The church isn’t going to protect a couple low-level clerics off temple grounds."

“Oh, no one will notice the death of a maggot,” Roland told him. “No one will grieve your loss.”

“No one will have to,” Matt replied confidently as he drew his own sword.

Les came at him first. Matt blocked the attack and immediately swung at Roland, who was trying to edge around him and was forced to back up a step. Matt made sure to attack evenly, preventing them from coming at him on both sides as he pushed them back into a nearby alley. He had no intention of being spotted by the guards. He didn’t have the protection of the church anymore, and wasn’t about to get thrown into prison.

Once they were away from prying eyes, he took out Les easily; the cleric had never been much of a fighter. Roland was more difficult, though. He wasn’t as fast as his now-deceased friend, but he was strong and more skilled. It took a few minutes before Matt had an opening to sweep his legs out from under him. Roland fell onto his back, and then it was over with Matt’s blade at his throat and his own sword several feet away.

“Bye, Roland,” Matt said with mock sweetness as he moved the tip of his sword to the man’s chest, lifted it a few inches, and then thrust it into him. A moment later, Roland’s eyes were still staring up at him, but they weren’t seeing anything anymore.

Matt wiped his blade on the man’s clothes, then sheathed it. He leaned down, grabbed a small sack that was tied to Roland’s belt, and yanked if off. He smiled at the weight of the coins inside and walked away.

As soon as he entered Coral Tavern, he spotted the dark-haired twins, the same ones he had seen in Glendale. They walked over to him this time, and when they were close enough, Matt grabbed each of them by the front of their shirts, pulling them closer and lifting them so they had to stand on their tiptoes.

“Are you following me?” he growled.

“No,” the one on the right said. “Just coincidence. We’re just saying hi.”

“Hi,” the other added with a small smile.

“Who the hell are you?” Matt demanded.

“I’m Vinius, he’s Danis,” the one of the left answered.

“We know Tess,” Danis said.

“We saw you with her in Oraunt,” Vinius put in.

He sighed and set them down. They straightened their shirts, and Matt glanced at the cuffs of their sleeves with an appalled look. “Are you wearing lace?” he asked. It was bad enough that they were wearing eyeliner.

“It’s in fashion,” Danis defended.

Matt raised a cynical brow. “For men?”

They pursed their lips. “Well…”

Matt didn’t want to hear any more. He turned and strode away from them. “So weird,” he muttered to himself. He went to his usual seat at the bar and slipped into his normal routine: a drink, a cigarette, and some random hussy.

__________

Later that night, he found himself standing in just his black leather pants in a sunny meadow that felt familiar, though he knew he had never been there before. The clearing was surrounded by trees with white blossoms, and the lush green grass was dotted with little yellow buttercups. It seemed to be the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t that the trees went on as far as he could see, but that they faded into nothingness, into a sort of blur. It was a strangely vivid dream—he could feel the breeze, the cool grass beneath his bare feet, and the warmth of the sun shining down on him. He could even smell the flowers.

Then he saw her. She was wearing the long white sundress she had worn when he first met her, though she was barefoot now. His breath caught, and something stirred in his chest. Her beautiful face lit up when she saw him, like there was nothing else in the world that mattered. And when he saw her smile, he couldn’t remember that anything else existed. She walked toward him, her white-gold curls bouncing gently with each step, and her eyes, the same color as the clear blue sky above them, were filled with her goodness and light.

“Figures,” Matt laughed quietly. “Now I have to be dreaming about you.”

Sera stopped a couple feet away from him and smiled happily. “You were thinking about me?”

He stared at her, taking in every detail of this much-too-realistic fantasy. “A lot,” he admitted.

“Is that a good thing?” she asked.

He reached over and, with controlled gentleness, touched her face. Her flawless skin was soft and warm under his fingertips. “No. I shouldn’t think about you,” he told her with a sigh. “I just want to forget you.”

She leaned her face into his hand as he cupped her cheek. “Why?”

“Because you’re an angel,” he told her. “I can’t have that.”

She put a hand on top of his, turned her head so she could place a kiss in his palm, and then looked back up at him. “What if I want you?”

“You wouldn’t… you shouldn’t.” He moved his thumb across her full lips. Her face was clean and fresh, without any makeup. She didn’t need any—she was perfect.

She kissed his thumb. “But I do.”

“Why does this feel so real?”

“Because it is real,” she told him. “I’m really here, and so are you.”

He frowned and immediately took his hand away from her. “That’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is,” she assured him. “I’m a dream healer in addition to being a healing cleric. A dream healer has the ability to enter a thing called dream-state—this.” She motioned around them. “It’s not a real place… well, it’s complicated. But this place is used for certain kinds of healing, like illnesses of the mind.”

He raised a brow. “Something wrong with my head?”

She smiled sheepishly. “No. I’m being selfish and breaking the rules, but I just had to see you. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“So… you’re really here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” she told him. “I wanted to see you, and to give you something.”

“What?”

She took a step closer and slowly brought her hands to his face. “This.” She reached up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

There was that same stirring in his chest again, stronger than ever, and that same electricity running through him as her mouth moved sweetly against his. He didn’t move, not to push her away or to touch her. When she pulled back, he just stared down at her.

She took her hands away, and the stirring in him turned into a dull ache at the lost contact. He felt dazed; his head swam and his whole being yearned for her to touch him again. It took a minute before he could remember why he didn’t want her to be here.

“You need to leave.”

“Why?”

“You don’t belong in my world; not in my life or in my dreams,” he said, gruff and firm now. “Stay away from me.”

The sadness that entered her eyes made the dull ache in his chest turn into a sharp one. “Is that what you really want?” she asked. “Or is it because you feel scared?”

“I’m not scared!” he snapped.

“Yes, you are,” she insisted calmly. “I have empathy, remember? I can feel your fear. But why do you feel it?”

In his thoughts, his dreams, his emotions—she was everywhere. He realized that she was right: he did feel scared. Since when did he get scared? He sighed and answered honestly, surprising himself by actually admitting it. “I’m scared of hurting you. And I will, if you stay around me. I’m not the good guy you want me to be.”

“You’re you. That is all I want you to be. And you won’t hurt me,” she told him confidently. “You decide what you do now. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past.”

He turned away from her and started pacing. “I’m not nice. I’m not gentle. I’m just… me.” He looked back at her. “I’m rough and mean.” He let his tone reflect the truth of it.

“You aren’t that way with me,” she pointed out simply.

“Not yet.”

“You don’t want to hurt me, so you won’t.”

He frowned at her. “Until I lose my temper, which is easily done.”

“Even if that were true, I can feel when you start to get angry—I have that advantage—and know when to back away if I have to.” She walked closer as she said it.

“It’s not that easy to get away from me. People have tried before. And it’s not just when I’m angry,” he added, stepping back when she got too close. “The people I touch get hurt.” The image of her with bruises flashed through his mind, and his chest hurt more. “Just go away!”

“I’m not holding you here. You can leave whenever you want. You just have to want it—then you’ll go.”

He tried, but the selfish part of him, which was a huge part, didn’t want to leave her. Being around her ached, felt strange, and scared him—but it also felt too good for him to will himself away.

When he looked at her again, she was smiling at him knowingly as she stepped closer. He groaned at himself and moved back again. “You just need to go.”

“Okay.”

He frowned, unable to hide his surprise and disappointment at her giving up so easily. “What?”

“I’ll go away and leave you alone,” she promised. “If you can prove it to me.”

“Prove what?”

“Prove that you can hurt me. Show me that you’re even capable of it.” Her tone was soft, but also firm. She wasn’t mocking him. She was serious. He just stared at her in disbelief, so she stepped closer and grabbed his wrist. He let her, wondering what she would do. She placed his large, strong hand on her delicate neck and looked into his eyes with an even gaze. “Just squeeze,” she said calmly. “Hurt me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

People from his past came to mind, people he had hurt without hesitation, even sweet, soft women like her. Well, not like her—no one was like her—but he had still done this so many times before. And he could do it now, he knew that. He might have decided to not kill Tess, but he had still been completely capable of hurting her. He had even enjoyed it. And the women he had been with the past few nights, he hadn’t cared at all if he hurt them.

But Sera… the thought made him feel sick. She wasn’t a tough fighter, or some copper-a-dozen tramp. She was an angel, so high above the rest. He looked at his hand and felt the soft skin of her throat beneath his calloused fingers. How easy it would be to break her, to crush her like a flower in his grasp. He would barely have to try. But he didn’t need to do that, he told himself; all he had to do was just hurt her a little, and then she would go away. And he would never see her again.

He clenched his jaw and tried. He really did try. But something twisted painfully inside him, and he couldn’t do it. A lifetime of ruthlessness and he couldn’t manage to hurt this one woman. How could anyone hurt something so precious?

“See?” she said, smiling warmly. “And no, there is no magic in dream-state that prevents you. I’m not doing anything to you. You just don’t want to hurt me.” She moved his hand to her cheek, leaning into it and closing her eyes. She looked like the feel of it was pure bliss.

The touch caused him pain, because he couldn’t have her, even though he wanted her so much it physically ached. She didn’t belong with a monster like him. Maybe he couldn’t hurt her now, but someday, somehow, he would. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered. “Why won’t you just go away?”

She opened her eyes. “Because I…” She stopped herself, thinking for a moment. “I feel drawn to you.”

“Most women do,” he said with a sudden, humorless laugh, remembering the redhead who was sleeping beside him in the real world.

“I’m different. I don’t want to be with you because you’re beautiful—though you are, of course,” she said with a smile. “And I won’t lie and say that I don’t feel that attraction; I do. I desire you very much. But your pull on me is much deeper than that.”

He sighed. He felt the draw, too. The attraction he was used to, but it was more than that. It was as if she was tugging at the deepest part of him, some unfamiliar, raw place inside that he couldn’t close off, couldn’t fight against or get away from.

She moved his hand again, placing a tender kiss against his palm before holding it. “Come here,” she told him. “No, don’t pull away. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

She sat on the grass, pulling him with her, and he went willingly, unable to resist any longer. She guided him to lie on his back and rest his head in her lap. He gazed up at her. Her long curls fell down around her shoulders, and he longed to touch them, but he put his hands on his stomach, clasping them together and keeping them there as she started caressing his face. Her hand was unbelievably soft and tender.

He lay there for a long time, feeling her touch, enjoying it more than he had a right to. He had never been touched like this. No one had ever been gentle with him; some had been scared or timid, but never tender. Of course, he had never been even slightly gentle with them. There was no point in this kind of touch—it didn’t bring pain or sexual gratification. And yet, it gave him such pleasure—a new kind of pleasure, a simple one that was achingly sweet, the same pleasure he felt when he had held her before.

They didn’t speak; they just stared at each other, mesmerized, and Matt realized that he felt content. There was nowhere else he wanted to be. He never wanted the contact to end, never wanted to look away from her angelic face or the warmth and tenderness in her big blue eyes. He wanted this to be reality, but it could never be that, and his chest started aching again.

__________

The bright desert sun came in through the window and woke him up. Groaning, he turned away from it, but it didn’t matter: he was awake now. He opened his eyes and scowled at the woman sleeping next to him, then got out of the bed and grabbed a cigarette. As he lit it, he noticed the bruises on the woman’s uncovered body. He frowned at some fingerprint marks on her hip.

Blowing out some smoke, he walked into the living room and went to stand by the window on the opposite side of the apartment. People walked down the street below, going about their lives. He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He felt out of place; those people might as well have been a million miles away. He was more alone than ever. He didn’t fit into his own world anymore. He didn’t fit anywhere.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift to Sera. The image of her face came easily; her eyes gazed at him with the light and purity of an angel, and a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. How had the world become so cold? How did it happen that she was suddenly the only warmth? He had spent less than a week with her, and yet she had become the very sun itself.

A hand touched his back, pulling him from his thoughts. His eyes opened, and his body stiffened. The woman—he didn’t know her name—kissed his bare shoulder. “Last night was amazing,” she whispered huskily.

He scoffed lightly. “Sure.”

“You weren’t complaining last night. Maybe you just need your memory refreshed,” she suggested as her hands circled his waist. She pressed her large breasts against his back and kissed him again.

He shrugged her off, feeling repulsed by her touch. “I’m done with you,” he told her callously. “Get out.”

She huffed angrily as she shoved herself away from him.

He took a drag of his cigarette and continued gazing out the window as he listened to her getting her clothes on. Moments later, he heard the familiar sound of the front door slamming shut.

He supposed he should feel bad, but he didn’t. What would Sera think of that? He exhaled a heavy, smoky sigh and pushed her from his mind. He wasn’t going to think about her anymore, he told himself firmly.

__________

The day passed slowly. It was so boring that he picked a fight—taking it extremely easy on the guy so it would last longer—but it wasn’t satisfying. It just made him miss Tess. At least she could fight; she was a good fighter, and so full of energy, too. He could use her exuberance and playful smile about now. He grumbled at himself. He wasn’t thinking about her or any member of her family.

He left the tavern to search for something else to occupy his thoughts, but there wasn’t anything that was very entertaining, and everything just somehow reminded him of Sera—like light-colored hair, or blue fabric that was too close to the color of her eyes. Once, there had always been things to do, but now he could think of nothing. He couldn’t find anything to distract him, to keep his thoughts away from her.

Another fight broke out that night, but this one wasn’t his fault; it was just a stupid group of thugs—Malluk followers, of course—who thought they could take him. They were wrong. When the three guys lay bleeding in the street, Matt headed back into the tavern and fell into his normal evening routine: the same stool, the same ale, and some hussy flaunting herself before his first cigarette was finished.

But tonight there was one difference: he went upstairs alone.

He walked through the front door of his apartment and kicked it closed with his heel, then took off his boots and threw his jacket onto the leather couch. He lit a cigarette, then headed into his bedroom and touched a silver stand with a blue crystal in it, making the enchanted crystal light up like a lantern.

It wasn’t until he turned around that he noticed her. She was sitting casually on his bed, her back against the headboard and one leg propped up, bent at the knee. It seemed he couldn’t get away from women, even if he tried.

Then he looked closer. That face, that long, tousled brown hair, and those dark eyes were familiar. He sighed.

“Aw, baby,” she purred. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

She was wrong—he was happy to see her—but knowing that she wasn’t there for a good reason put a damper on things. “Viv. Long time,” he greeted “You’re looking good.” His gaze traveled the length of her: she was wearing tight red leather pants, black boots, and a black t-shirt that molded very nicely to her shapely form. His memory hadn’t done her beauty justice, or perhaps she had become more striking over the years. She still had the smoky eyes and blackberry-stained lips that she'd had when he last saw her, but unlike a lot of women, Vivyka wore the make-up; it didn’t wear her. She had the confidence behind it; she was gorgeous, and she knew it.

“So are you,” Vivyka replied. “But you know that.”

“Yeah. So, what do you want?” he asked, hoping he was wrong, that maybe she just wanted to see him.

She shrugged. “When I found out we had some mutual friends, I thought I’d stop by.”

He held in a sigh. “Tess and Ayden,” he guessed, though he was pretty sure that even Tess didn’t consider him a friend anymore.

“And don’t forget Sera.”

He sat down casually in the crimson armchair in the corner of the room, facing the bed. “So, you’ve come all this way to say hi?” he asked cynically.

“No. Actually, I have a message for you.”

“What’s that?”

He hadn’t noticed that her right hand was under the pillow until she pulled it out. She held a loaded crossbow, which she now pointed at him. “Die.”

He laughed. “Great. Well, make sure you get the heart.” He pointed to his bare chest, showing her the location. “I’ve been shot enough recently, and I’m not too fond of the experience, so get it right.”

She got off the bed and started walking toward him, the crossbow never faltering. “Even if you had a heart, do you really think I’d make it that easy?” she sneered, and he noticed the rope in her other hand. “It’s much more fun to toy with people, isn’t it, Mathias? To hurt them, to break them, to make them cry and beg you to stop. You do remember, don’t you?”

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. “Yeah, I remember,” he said with a smoky sigh. “So, what’s the plan? Are you going to shoot me, or tie me up?”

“Depends on how cooperative you are. Maybe both.”

He looked back at her and chuckled. “You want me to willingly let you tie me up?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “And I’ll give you an incentive—if you hold still like a good boy, then I promise not to use any sharp objects before I kill you.”

He took a drag of his cigarette and shook his head as he exhaled. “Not very tempting.” He stood and stepped toward her. “I don’t like either option.”

“Take another step and you won’t have a choice,” she warned.

He scoffed. “Sweet little Viv’s going to pull the trigger?”

She laughed coldly. “Sweet left my personality a long time ago. Someone beat it out of me, actually. And you know what they say—what’s good for the goose…”

“Yeah. So, is that really what you want? To beat me? To be like me? You think that’ll change anything?” Feeling that irritating prickle of guilt, he sighed again. “Viv, I can’t take back what I did to you,” he told her seriously. “I can say sorry, but that doesn’t mean much, does it?”

“It means nothing,” she spat.

“That’s what I thought. So, why now? Why after three years? I would have thought you’d gotten on with life.”

“Oh, I did,” she assured him. “But hurting me is one thing. Then you hurt my friends. Now you go for Sera. You will not hurt her.”

His gut twisted, but he kept his face neutral. “You’re right, I won’t,” he agreed. “That’s why I’m here and not where she is. It’s a bit hard to hurt someone who isn’t near me.”

“Until she comes to visit, which she’s planning to do. So, I made sure I got here first.”

“I’ve told her to stay away from me.”

“A woman in love is a very stupid and determined thing.”

“I’ll leave Halimi,” he said. “She won’t find me.”

She looked at him incredulously. “Did you hear what I just said? And it’s Sera. She doesn’t give up on anything or anyone. She doesn’t know how to quit. That’s why I’m here—to kill you and quit for her.”

“And get a little payback while you’re at it,” he added.

“Of course. Now, which option are you going with? Will it be the rope”—she lifted one hand—“or the lovely crossbow that the shopkeeper said suited me? I think he was right, but I’m sure the bolt would look much better in you.”

He made a sudden move to knock the bow out of her hand, but she fired without hesitation. The bolt sank into his thigh, and he dropped to his knees. Then something smashed into the back of his head, and everything went dark.