The Risks

May: Chapter 55

A/N: Well, I've decided that this chapter-twice-a-week thing is stupid. I have it all written, so why make you wait? It'll most likely be a chapter every day until we come to the end of the story. Eight more  chapters (including this one)! Enjoy!

In my dream, I was asleep.

It was warm –so warm. Sweltering, in fact. My clothes were clinging to my skin, damp with sweat.

Why? Why was it so unbearably hot?

In my dream, I opened my eyes.

I was still nestled against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each ragged breath, and I realized that it was him. His skin was on fire.

In my dream, panic pinned me to the spot.

I lifted my chin slowly, gaze reluctantly making its way up to his face.

Black liquid like ink dripped from his mouth, his nose. Eyes like coal stared down at me, empty and dark. A low growl gurgled in his throat. His mouth fell open, wide and inviting. All I could see were ink-stained teeth beckoning, drawing me closer and closer.

Black ink everywhere. Everywhere. Swallowing me up-

I woke with a sharp inhale, my fingers clawing into his shirt, and I immediately felt his hand close over mine.

"Hey. It's alright."

I lifted my head and was greeted by chocolate eyes –not black, not empty- beneath a furrowed brow.

I sighed in relief. It was only a dream. It wasn't real. None of it was real. He was here with me, and he was alive.

God, my subconscious was a bitch.

"Bad dream?" he guessed.

I nodded, trying to push the images away forever. "You turned."

He made a quiet, discontented noise before pressing his lips to my temple, his thumb grazing the opposite cheekbone.

"I'm still here," he whispered.

I shifted toward him, resting a hand on his jaw and gazing into his eyes. There were no words to describe how I felt –happy and relieved just didn't do it justice. So instead of trying to tell him with words, I just nodded and leaned into him to capture his lips.

They were so soft, so warm, that I had to stifle a sigh as I melted against him. Our mouths moved together in an unhurried dance, our lips slipping open if just for a brief taste of each other.

I'd almost lost him –the dream was a stark reminder of that. It didn't take long for that panic to seep back in, and suddenly I was desperate to show him just how relieved and happy I was to have him.

I wouldn't let him slip away from me again.

He inhaled deeply through his nose as I pressed myself against him, reaching into his hair and letting my lips fall open against his. Closer. I needed to be closer. I couldn't allow any space between us. I moved onto my knees, about to lift one and place it on the other side of his hips, but he pulled back just slightly.

"Claire," he murmured, pushing back gently. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. There's no rush."

I sank back down, the panic and desperation driven away by the tenderness in his eyes. He was right. We probably shouldn't let things get out of hand right now anyway, all things considered, and my eyes moved down to his leg.

"Does it hurt?"

"I mean, yeah," he answered with a nonchalant shrug, a shadow casting over his face, stealing away the light from his eyes. "But you know what's funny? It's my foot that hurts. My foot. I know it's not there... but I can still feel it."