Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton and the Berkley Publishing Group do not authorize this author. All characters that you recognize belong to Laurell K. Hamilton except for the ones created by the people in this group. This is solely for entertainment purposes.

Rating: R just to be on the safe side

Author's Notes: I would just like to say that part of this section IS going to contain some spoilers for What The Hell.  I sincerely apologize for this but I felt like I needed to get this down before my muse decided to take flight.  Again I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

Nightmares

I jerked upright in my bed.  Beads of sweat covered my body, a silent scream trapped behind my lips.  It was that same nightmare.  The one where I realized that my friends were not my friends.  I could still feel the knives as they pierced my skin, even though the wounds had long since healed.

I knew I shouldn't have listened to that CD before I went to bed.  Something in me said "No, don't do that, you'll be sorry."  And I was.  I'd thought I was safe from that dream.  It never dawned on me that something as trivial as a song would bring those long buried memories back to the surface.  I'd figured, what the hell, I have the house to myself; what harm could it do?  I wasn't saying that now.  Now I was wishing I'd listened to that little voice.

I huddled under the covers and wished I'd had someone to cuddle up to.  Normally I wouldn't have been sleeping alone, but ever since Conor had come back I'd tried to sleep alone.  It was nights like these that I wished I hadn't given up the practice. Conor hadn't asked me to stop. I don't think it occurred to him to even ask. But seeing as most of my snuggle bunnies tended to be male; I thought it was asking for trouble.

I picked up the phone and dialed his number from memory.  It rang and rang and rang.  That was strange.  He was always home.  I hung up the phone feeling slightly abandoned.  That was ridiculous, of course. He wasn't tied to me.  It was just that I was feeling vulnerable and needed him.  Maybe he was out with his brother and Lija.  I mean he can and does have friends outside of mine.

I picked up the phone again. I dialed a different number.  The phone rang only once and a deep husky voice that I knew all too well answered the phone.  "Yeah," he said sleepily.

"Hey," I said somewhat timidly.

"Do you really think you should be calling here," he asked his tone clearly indicating that he was no longer asleep and that he was very unhappy at being woken up by me.

"No, but I had no one else to call."  I could feel a lump forming in my throat and tears welling in my eyes.  I'd hurt him badly.  I mean really badly.  I shouldn't have called.  Before he could say anything else I said, "I'm sorry I shouldn't have called you.  I had no right to do this to you."  I clutched the phone, felt the tears beinging to make tracks down my face; as I started to pull the phone away from my ear I heard him speak.

"You had that dream again didn't you?" His voice full of such tender concern that it made me cry that much harder.

I nodded unable for the moment to speak.  It was only the long silence that reminded me that he couldn't see me.  I gave a whispered, "Yes."

Even over the phone I could hear the rustle of cloth.  He was sitting up.  He sighed harshly, almost as if he were debating with himself about something.  I knew what was wrong; I knew it and some part of me didn't care.  I needed him.  I'd tried to deny it but there was something that always brought me back to him.

It was times like these that I often wondered if I'd made a mistake in saying yes to Conor.  Conor understood me in some elemental way.  It was almost as if he knew what I was thinking long before I even did.  I did love him, or loved him as much as I was able.  There were times when I feared that I would never be able to give myself wholly to someone.  I feared that there would always be some part that I always kept separate from even those I loved.

But where did that leave the man on the phone?  Right smack dab in the middle.  He knew things about me that I'd never shared with another.  Things I'd thought I'd never tell.  Like the nightmare.  He knew all about the nightmare I'd told him.  Not because he'd pressed, or demanded to be told, but simply by his willingness to let me share if I wished to.

There were times when I think had it not been for him I would have abandoned those who had come to me.  He had never chided, berated, or belittled what I felt.  He'd simply let me vent then encourage me to find way to fix the problem at hand.  I had leaned on him more times then I could count.  He had become my support system, especially when I felt I couldn't talk to anyone else.

It wasn't that my friends wouldn't have cared or even that they wouldn't have been able to help had I been willing to let them in.  It wasn't a reflection on them, far from it; it was a reflection on me.  How arrogant I must sound.  Believing that no one could understand the burdens I carry.  That's far from the truth however.  I knew that my friends would understand.  They would even have helped and supported me.  That fact was, that I felt like I should be able to carry this burden on my own.

I always felt that if I cried or bemoaned my fate that it would somehow make me weak.  With him I never felt like I was being weak.  Around him I felt like I could be me, the real me.  The one with problems and emotions.  With him I felt safe to express my frustration, my desires, and even my long buried secrets.

It brought me back to the situation at hand.  He was so quiet I feared that he had hung up.  "Dante," his name a whispered prayer.

"Yeah I'm here."  His voice was gruff, and I briefly wondered if his thoughts had traveled the same road mine had.  "This is such a bad idea, you know that, right?"

"I know," my voice so soft that I was sure that he hadn't heard it.

"Then why do I get the feeling that I'm going to be leaving this house shortly?"  Confusion showed plainly in his voice.

"You're not obligated to do anything you don't want to do.  You have no tie to me.  You could even hang up this phone guilt free."

"I hear a but coming."

"No there are no buts here.  You are your own person and lord knows it would save you pain and grief to hang up now."  The tears that had been slowing began to build up again.  I'd meant what I said.  I wouldn't hold it against him if he hung up.  It would spare him even more pain.  The question I'd been asking myself began circling again.  Why would I do this to him, to me, to us?  It hurt so much more when he left again.  It always did.  I had no satisfactory answer.

"It would. We both know it would, but why do I feel a compulsion to come to you?  To offer whatever comfort I can?"  His voice was ragged with emotion.  It caused my throat to close up for a moment, leaving me unable to breathe or speak.

"I-I-I don't know.  I don't have an answer for that.  I wish I did but I don't."  I could feel myself winding up for a major sobbing session.  My voice was choked up from the effort of not giving in.  "Please, if you don't want to come then don't.  If you want me to leave you alone then say so, PLEASE!"  I was desperate.  Desperate for what I couldn't have said.  I'm not sure that it even made sense to me.  Why couldn't I just let him go?

"No," he said so softly that I wasn't entirely sure I'd heard him correctly.

I think my heart stopped beating for a moment.  "No what," I asked just as softly.

"No, I don't want you to leave me alone."

I let out the breath that I'd been holding.  I'm not sure what I would have done had he said he wanted me to leave him alone.  But for now it was a problem for another day.  "So where does that leave us," my voice more timid than I could ever remember it being in quite some time.

I could hear the jingle of a belt buckle and knew, not only had he gotten out of bed but he was getting dressed.  When he spoke his voice was quiet, almost as if he was afraid of getting caught.  "I'll be there in about," he paused for a moment as if he were looking that the clock.  "In about 10 minutes give or take.  Have the door unlocked."

"Okay," I said, still docile.  "See ya soon."

"See ya soon."  I could almost see the smile that was sure to be on his face.  "Don't forget unlock the door."

"I won't.  Now hurry up."  We both hung up without saying good-bye.  For me it was force of habit.  I wasn't too sure what Dante's excuse was.

I put the receiver back in its cradle.  Then flung the covers back and made my way down the hall to the stairs.  I descended those quickly and had the door unlocked before two minutes had passed.  A strange eagerness welled up inside me.  I dared not examine those feelings too closely.  I was just happy to see Dante, no more no less.  At least that's what I kept telling myself.  Somehow that didn't ring quite true but that's the way the cookie crumbles.

I went back to my room and made sure that I didn't have any stray laundry lying around.  I didn't.  I was too much of a neat freak for there to be anything out of place.  I went out of my way to stay away from the stereo, as if it had caused my dream rather than my subconscious.

I heard the door downstairs open then close.  Scenting the air I knew that he'd arrived.  A glance on the clock showed him to be on time.  But then that was Dante to a tee, or at least for me.  If he said he was going to be there in ten minutes he was there come hell or high water.

He was making his way quietly up the stairs.  I don't know why, there was nobody here.  Maybe he was doing it just in case someone had managed to make it home in the last ten minutes.  I figured if they weren't home by now then he didn't really have to worry about it.

He was standing outside my door.  His scent was overwhelming.  I closed my eyes for a moment and just sat there waiting.  I wouldn't call out to him even though I know that's probably what he was expecting.  I still wanted to give him a way out.  If he didn't come in the room then we could, for the most part, pretend it hadn't happened.

Dante knocked softly on the door.  "Come in," I said just as quietly.

When he walked through the door I forgot how to breathe.  It wasn't that he was wearing anything extraordinary just the fact that I had missed his mere presence.  He wore no shirt so the piercing in his nipples caught the light as he moved.  He wore his jeans low on his hips, it also let me know that he wasn't wearing anything beneath those jeans.  It was the same face that I knew and yet once again I was struck by how incredibly handsome he was.  His piercing blue eyes, his full sensual lips, his jet-black hair falling in artful disarray, all combined to make one powerful picture.

He kept coming until he was standing in front of me and I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact.  He lifted one tanned hand almost cupping my cheek but not quite.  He let the play of power dance across that space, and my skin.  I closed my eyes content for the moment to enjoy the sensation his presence always inspired.  A low purr escaped my throat.

I could feel him closing the distance between us and knew I should do something but couldn't seem to make my body move.  The heat from his body seemed to call to some part of me.  My hands of their own volition slid up his chest over his shoulders and around to cup the back of his head.  My fingers played in his hair.  I felt him shiver a moment before I felt his tongue glide over my bottom lip.

Before I could even form the thought my lips parted for him.  I never could deny him.  I didn't remember moving but when I opened my eyes again we were in the middle of my bed.  Our bodies were mere inches away.  It was both frustrating and exciting.  It was frustrating because I yearned to close the distance between us.  Exciting because the play of power across my skin was causing a riot of sensations.  It was only like this with Dante.

It was one of the few things that I'd kept to myself.  There was no way that I wanted anyone to know how irresistible I found him.  I wasn't ashamed of how I felt about him; I just didn't know exactly how I felt about him.  It wasn't lust, okay well it wasn't just lust.  I mean the thought of him going out with another woman made me insanely jealous.  I knew that I had no right to be jealous but I was.  I couldn't explain it and after a while I stopped trying.

He lowered just his head and I knew he was going to kiss me.  I also knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn't seem to get the rest of my body to agree with my head.  He kissed me like he was going to crawl into my body through my mouth.  I felt him settle himself between my thighs. I could feel the desire course through me hot and scalding.

I wrapped one of my legs around his.  The feel of him pressed so closely to me was almost more than I could bear.  He pulled back a bit and looked down at me.  There was a dark knowledge in his gaze, a heat. As if he knew that he could instantly ignite a fire within my soul.  I knew in that moment that if he had asked it of me I would have promised him anything.  Dante put a finger to my lips and said, "No, no promises.  They're too easily broken."

I was startled.  I was sure I'd just thought it.  Was almost positive that I had.  In place of the desire was a feeling of fear.  He sensed the change immediately. He rolled off of me but draped his arm across my stomach.  His face was buried between my shoulder and my neck.  When he spoke his voice was muffled but still understandable.  .  "Luna what do you see when you look at me?"

Of all the things he could have asked that was probably the one I expected least.   My hand was rubbing his arm while I thought about it.  Every answer I came up with I quickly discarded.  "Dante I don't know how you want me to answer that.  Do you mean literally what do I see?  Or is there more to this than that?"

He propped himself up his elbow he looked down at me.  His eyes were clouded with emotion.  I knew that my own eyes held the same.  But over the others was an overwhelming sadness.  It was in the very air we breathed, or maybe that was just me.  I knew that I shouldn't have done this to him, and I'd done it anyway.

The sound of his harsh sigh broke the silence.  He frowned, shook his head then said, "Never mind.  It wasn't that important."  He turned his troubled gaze towards the window and away from me.

Normally I would have let it go and for the life of me I don't know why didn't this time.  Maybe it was the fact that he always did that or maybe it was the fact that I constantly let it go.  Whatever the case, I got angry this time.  Reaching up I grabbed hold of his chin and forced him to look at me.  "No.  I won't leave it alone, not this time.  What did you mean!  So help me God if you say it wasn't important I will... I will, I don't know."  I sighed.

He laughed, God help him, he laughed.  It enraged some part of me to hear that laugh.  Especially when I'd finally gotten the gumption to say something to him.  I rolled us until I was seated on top of him straddling his waist.  My hand snaked out and grabbed the Browning from its usual place under my pillow.  I pressed the barrel against his temple a low threatening growl escaped my throat.  I didn't need a mirror to know that my eyes were feral.  His voice held a strange note.  "Could you really do it?  Could you pull that trigger?"

I didn't even have to think about it.  I shook my head and felt my eye fill with tears.  That was really dumb Luna; I scolded myself.  I knew better than to pull a gun if I wasn't going to use it for its intended purpose.  I rolled off of him and the bed.  I sat by the bed with my knees drawn up to my chest, openly weeping.  My voice was choked up when I spoke.  "Do you know why that dream always scares me?"  I didn't wait for him to answer I continued on anyway.  "Because I thought they were my friends.  It was like being Caesar to their Senate.  I was only a means to an end."  I craned my neck to look at him.  "That's what you meant, wasn't it.  You wanted to know if I saw you as only a means to an end."

The look Dante gave me was enough to make me angry all over again.  He lay there with a "Well isn't it" look on his face.  The look was enough to make the tears that had been falling gain strength.  I knew that he had doubts about me but I didn't know they were that severe.  It seems I really had no one I was truly close with.  I always kept some part of myself back from everyone.  It was a sad state of affairs.  Made even worse because I had dragged someone else from their bed in hopes that they could ally my fear.

Interlacing my fingers I gripped them so tight that I could feel the nails digging into the backs of my hands.  It just didn't seem fair.  Not at all!  Dante deserved better treatment then this, and I either couldn't, or wouldn't, give it to him.  I hung my head, ashamed that I was so hollow.  It was the same feeling from the dream.  That if I had been better, if I'd cared more, if I'd given more, then those that had been my friends wouldn't have felt the need to literally cut me from their lives.

I retold the dream again without looking at him.  "You know it always starts the same each and every time I always think that this time I can change it.  It was a group of us out playing what was supposed to be a game that ended up being very close to murder."

I closed my eyes and could picture it again; it was there behind my eyelids like a living movie that I would never be rid of.  A group of friends and I were so into the Anita series that we had spent hours thinking up a way to make it an RPG.  We'd finally done it though and our hard work had paid off.

We had been playing our game for a little over two months when we all decided to spend time putting together an elaborate sequence.  We were going to actually act out our characters.  There was one small catch, as the witch of our group; I needed a spell, a true transportation spell.  Well that was harder to obtain than I had thought.  After many hours and quite a few dead ends I finally found one.  I even went so far as to collect the ingredients for the spell.  By the time everyone else was ready for this so was I.  Sort of.  For this spell to really work we needed a human sacrifice.  When I'd told Diego and Michael about it they had smiled and said, "Don't worry about it.  We only want it sound and look good.  It doesn't have to actually work."

Laughing the three of us had gone to our wooded glade.  That night the air had fairly crackled with electricity.  It was a magical night, a night full of magic.  Never had truer words been thought.  We opened with some of the others; this is the part where it becomes a little hazy because I never really remembered what happened.  We slowly built our way up to the spell, which was supposed to be the high point and where we were going to leave off for the night.  I was blissfully unaware of the danger I was in.   Ignorant of the threat I began the spell.

Using a piece of wood that I had picked out earlier I scratched out the circle.  I made sure that the symbols were an exact replica of the ones I had studied beforehand.  The others quietly gathered around the circle there was a quiet eagerness in them that I had misdiagnosed as the thrill of the game.

The incantation was complicated.  It required me to seek out a linguist to help me get the words precisely right.  The wind began to pick up and there was a definite hum of energy.  I was so intent on giving an accurate rendition that I never even realized the jeopardy that I was in.  I took my place in the center of the circle never realizing in all my research that was where the sacrifice stood.

The energy around us grew until the wind was fairly lashing at any exposed part.  You could almost feel the world take a breath and hold it.  Waiting, waiting for the promise of the spell.  When the incantation was done there was an audible snap.  I turned to look at my friends a triumphant smile on my face.  I was aglow, not just euphemistically either, there was faint glow to my pale skin.

The look in their eyes was enough to kill the smile on my face.  Their faces were lit with an inner determination.  Something that I had only usually seen in adult criminals.  They slowly advanced on me.  I had nowhere to go.  Everything happened in a sort of slow motion that allows you to see what is happening but allowing you to do nothing to save yourself.  Diego stepped closer to me, in his hand he carried a wicked looking blade that I happened to know was sharp enough to carve up anything.  He smiled at me and it made things inside me clench in fear.

I tried moving away from him but my fucking dress got tangled up in my feet and I went down, hard.  They never even hesitated they were going to finish what I had unwittingly started.  I looked at each face in turn as their blades pierced my skin.  I could feel again the hurt and betrayal, followed closely by the agony of my wounds.    Some maniacal light lit their eyes.  I didn't want to feel my blood soaking into the ground beginning to make me cold, so cold.

The magic was focused now; my blood had fed it.  A portal appeared.  It looked almost like a tear in the very fabric of our landscape.  I watched in helpless fascination as one by one my trusted friends walked through that tear.  With the last bit of my strength I called out to whomever might be listening.  I spoke of my betrayal and my thirst for the power to bring revenge on my attackers.  Not justice because that was not mine to seek, but I wanted power enough to crush my enemies.

I remember clawing my way hand over hand, inch by precious inch, to that hole I had inadvertently opened.  When I was sure that I wasn't going to be able to make it I gave a scream of such frustration, fury, and pain that the very ground shook with it.  A glowing pinpoint of light began making its way to me.  As the speck of light came closer I realized that someone had indeed heard my plea.

Her skin was a flawless ebony; her eyes were so dark that at first I thought it was one of the devil's minions come to claim me at last.  Her attire was that which could be found in any Hollywood version of what cavewomen wore.  On her the garments didn't look out of place or cheesy.  This radiant creature spoke as she approached me.  Her full lips never moved but I heard her as if she had.  "I bestow upon you all that you seek.  I give you my strength in battle.  I give you my quickness to follow those who you pursue.  Finally I gift you with death, the ability to mete out the revenge they so richly deserve."

She moved with a kind of grace that was captivating to the eye.  I was spellbound.  I couldn't have looked away even if I had wanted to.  She kept coming, kept up her pace.  There was moment when I was sure she was just a lackey sent to retrieve me.  She was now so close that I should have been able to touch her but I didn't.  Fear stayed my hand.

I watched in stupefied amazement as she slowly lowered herself to my level.  When she touched my skin, where I expect her to be cold and clammy she was surprisingly warm.  She lifted me effortlessly from the ground her eyes bored into mine. I had a sensation of falling into those deep brown eyes.    Her lips touched my forehead the warmth in my body spread from that point.  I could feel something spreading through me.  It was the most indescribable sensation I'd ever had.

When I awoke from my stupor I found her smiling at me, a sort of sad smile.  I wondered at it a moment before I heard her speak. A whispered apology was what crossed her lips as she began to fade like smoke in front of me.  I'd thought she was just going to blow away on the wind.  Or maybe that's what I wished had happened.  The mist floated in front of me then pulled back a ways and slammed into me with all the subtlety of a Mack truck.

The air was forced from my lungs, my legs buckled and I fell in an ungraceful heap on the ground.  But determination burned brightly in me.  I turned my tortured gaze to the portal only to find it rapidly disappearing.  Quickly, ignoring the protest from my body, I ran for it.  The spell, the earth, the whatever-it-was, was not happy to lose its prize.  As I squeezed through the opening it gouged long grooves into my abdomen, back, arms, legs, wherever it touched me.  But I was through that was all that mattered.  I was in hot pursuit.  I was in this place, even though I had no idea where I was, I was going to find every last one of them and make them pay.

There is only so much blood loss a body can take.  I must admit that it came as something of a shock to find myself tripping over barely exposed tree roots and loose rocks.  I was in the middle of a clearing when my body would not, could not go on.  I dropped from sheer exhaustion, my desire for revenge still burning bright as ever.  The only thing that kept me going was the thought that I would have my revenge.

For long hours I laid there willing my body to heal itself.  Willing the drowsiness I was feeling to leave.  I wanted nothing more than to get up and continue on.  It was no use after the fifth unsuccessful attempt I laid there feeling the cold ground upon which I was laying grow warmer, while I grew steadily cooler.  Finally I had to give in.  Just to rest my eyes for a moment.

It was always at this point where I usually woke up, but tonight had been different and yet much the same.    I would never really know how long I lay there.  It was only the soft menacing growls that roused me.  These shapes that sniffed and snuffled over my body.  It took me long moments to realize exactly what they were and even then I was in denial.  Leopards.  The name echoed in my mind.  It couldn't be, a rational part of my brain kept saying, yet here in front of me was undeniable proof that they were.

One advanced on me.  Gold eyes flashing. It seemed to be caught between two distinct desires.  One of which was to obviously eat me, and not euphemistically either.  The other was curiosity as if it were trying to figure out what I was.  One of the others, a pure black leopard, took exception to the first being there and made a wild swing at the spotted one.  The claws connected solidly with the spotted one's jaw, but as chance would have it my arm as well. The pain was instantaneous and intense.   As he jerked back I felt blood coat my face and some of the wounds on my arms.  There was curious burning sensation that was totally unexplainable.

It brought a fresh well of tears and an almost inaudible gasp from my lips.  The leopards as a whole looked at me as one.  I expect that they thought I was dead or very near to it.  Strangely my thirst for vengeance kept me drawing breath.  My fierce determination to see my tormentors brought to justice, my justice, kept me from giving in.

They continued staring then slowly looked at each other then once again back at me.  I watched them with a kind of calm detachment.  I knew that I was NOT going to die out here, no matter what my "friends" thought.  As if receiving some kind of signal they turned as one and loped off.

Strangely I felt a kind of abandonment.  The tears that I had been holding in check now began to make tracks down my dirty, bloody face.  I couldn't have told you why.  Painfully I turned over to my back every muscle screaming their protest at having been so abused.

I laid there crying about the injustice of having coming so far and enduring so much.  I cried because I was helpless to do anything.  I cried for all the hurts I'd ever had.  I cried until I couldn't cry any more.  Now more thoroughly exhausted than before I felt my eyelids droop.  I couldn't keep them open.  My anger and hatred burned within me still, but now there was also the feeling of sorrow and hopelessness.

It was at this point that I realized that I was no longer sitting by the bed but lying in the middle of it with Dante wrapped around me.  His free hand was stroking my hair.  I never looked at him just stared blankly ahead. "?You know what gets me the most is I ALWAYS, felt like if I'd been more."  I waved my hand in the air searching for the word. "I don't know.  But I felt like I'd brought this on myself."  Finally I turned my neck to look at him.

He looked down at me a strange kind of smile on his face.  "You wanna know what I've noticed?"  When I nodded he continued.  "You only start getting these dreams when you're under a lot of pressure.  Like when you were having such a rough time with Shang-Da.  Then they started up again when pard politics were at a fevered pitch.  And now here they are again."  He left that statement hanging in the air.

Slowly I processed all of what he was saying.  He was right!  I was astounded; it was stress that brought on the nightmare, not a stupid song.  The dread I'd been feeling since I woke up uncoiled from the knot it was making in my stomach.  But just as quickly reformed.  My voice was breathless when I spoke.  "Do you think it's the wedding that has brought it back up again?"

All the good humor left Dante's face in an instant.  His eyes were unreadable and his mouth was grimly set.  "I would say that's a distinct possibility."

Unconsciously I gripped his arm.  My eyes were wide with alarm.  "Do you think that it's a warning? A premonition?  Like this is a really bad idea?"

How he managed it I'll never know, but Dante managed to look both skeptical and hopeful at the same time.  "I would say," he said somewhat stiffly.  "That is something only you can really answer for yourself.  But if you want my two cents.  Yes!  Yes I think it's a really bad idea."  He had pushed himself up on one arm and gazed down at me.  He was gaining momentum.  His eyes were lit with a passion that I had thought was reserved for sex.  His tone was fervent, "I mean if he really means so much why didn't you try harder to get in touch with him?  Why not call Lilli, or Nahla, or Maggie?  Why call me?"

I was stunned.  I didn't know how to refute what he was saying, or not saying as the case maybe.  I felt my mouth open and close a few times.  Now I knew what a stranded fish must feel like.  I was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place.  I didn't want him to know how much his words had affected me.  Although he probably already did.  But I didn't want to give him false hope.

Cupping his cheek I leaned up enough to kiss his lips softly.  Again I thought why couldn't I just let him go?  Why didn't I just tell him that it wasn't going to work that it would never work?  Why?  Because everything he had said was true.  If I'd really wanted to find Conor I could have.  If I really didn't want him around then I would have shared with my closest friends, and I hadn't.

I pulled back feeling more confused than I had started out that night.  When I was away from Dante I was able to convince myself that what I felt for him was nothing more than a really strong friendship.  But when we were alone like this I was forcibly reminded that what I felt for him went beyond friendship, beyond just lust.  I don't know if it was love.  I'm not even sure I know what love is.  But whatever I felt for this man it was strong and undeniable.

To make matters even worse I was also feeling guilty.  Guilty that I could possibly feel this way for someone other than Conor.  I took a deep shaky breath and released it slowly.  I shouldn't have called him.  If I'd cared about Dante I wouldn't have called him.  I wouldn't have given him false hope.

"But was it false hope," some part of my brain asked.  Conor was more and more unreachable these days.  I could be sitting in the same room with him and feel like I was alone.  He seemed so distracted that I wondered briefly if he had even wanted to come back at all.  I kept wondering why if he was so glad to be back with me, why didn't I see him that much?  Had I done something wrong?  Was he getting cold feet?  Did he have someone else?  Had he only come back out of a sense of honor and duty?

I kept attributing these feeling to pre-wedding jitters.  But what if they weren't?  Was I clinging to Dante because I feared that Conor would walk out on me?  That thought sickened me more than I would have liked to admit.  I'll be the first to say that not all my relationships ended wonderfully.  Most of the time I was the one left feeling like I'd been hit between the eyes with a ball peen hammer.

All these questions circled my head with no satisfactory answer.  And Dante with his face shinning with such longing and a need so great I couldn't deny him, not even had I wanted to.  I'm not even sure I wanted to any more.  When I was with him it was like almost anything was possible.  It wasn't, of course, and the logical part of me knew that.

I was loath to hurt him any more than I had to.  I did not want him to suffer as I had suffered.  But I couldn't find it within myself to send him away either.  Wasn't that just nice of me.  I couldn't spare myself so everyone had to suffer.  I dropped my gaze from his face.  My eyes dropped to where my hand was clenched on his arm.  There were half moons of welling cuts left by my nails.  I didn't realize that I had been gripping his arm quite so hard.  He'd never even showed any signs of it having pained him  "I'm sorry," I murmured.

"For what," he looked surprised.

I could feel a laugh welling up inside me.  For what, he asks.  He's got to be kidding.  But if he was unwilling to acknowledge all the numerous things I could say, then I could do no less.  I motioned to his bleeding forearm.  He gave a lopsided grin.  "Would you believe I never even felt it?"

I nodded.  "Yeah, I can believe it."  I didn't add anything else.  I didn't want to ruin the mood.  There were so many things I should've said and didn't.  So many things I could've done and didn't.  In the end when he curled up behind me I let him.  We never said it, but we both knew it.  Something was about to change.  We'd never know if it was for better or for worse until it was too late, much too late.