Page 126 of Shadow Blind

“I am not mistaken.” His mother’s voice chilled. “I know a claiming when I see one. She was visited by her spirit animal. I saw it. She bears the claiming bite. She was gifted a totem.” The chill in his mother’s voice gave way to dryness. “The spirit animals know better than you or I who is worthy of claiming. They chose Jillian.”

“You saw this claiming?” Could she have been dreaming? “Which clan claimed her?”

“Yes. I saw it. I heard it.” She hesitated, then rushed the rest out. “I heard the scream of the heschrmal first. It woke me from my sleep. It was close. So close. I followed the lion’s screams until they stopped. Jillian was sitting in the rocker on the porch. The heschrmal was curled in her lap. Purring.”

“A lion?” His voice rose beneath a combination of shock and protest.

No one within the Kalikoia had been chosen by the lion clan in centuries. Besides, according to tribal mythos, the lion spirit was a warrior totem, as was the wolf spirit. These two woodland clans only claimed males—the mightiest among the warriors.

Why would one claim a woman? A white woman at that.

This news made no sense.

Chapter fifty

Day 24

Denali, Alaska

A sound—a grunt or a groan—woke Demi from a partial doze. She lazily stretched, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Beneath the blanket and sheet, she was cocooned in warmth. Her own personal furnace burned against her back, while a band of muscle and heat wrapped around her waist. Even as he slept, Aiden clung to her. She liked to think it was because he was afraid to let her go, afraid he’d lose her again.

Probably wishful thinking.

Still—she’d missed this, the heat of her man in bed beside her, the lethargic, well used ache of her muscles, the way his hard frame fit the contours of her body, as though they’d been individually crafted to complement each other. As though they were meant for each other.

The concept of soulmates was increasingly plausible.

He’d turned off the bedroom light after disposing of that last condom. They’d forgotten about protection during the frenzy of that first joining. She’d done the math though, and they should be alright.

She stretched again. Somehow, the lack of light enhanced her contentment. It allowed her to focus solely on her satiated body, full heart, and the prospect of her own happily ever after, something she’d always believed was a mythical beast at best.

It horrified her to think of how close she’d come to tossing this contentment away, to tossing Aiden aside and severing the connection between them because of fear. What a short-sighted response that would have been.

Thank God she’d opened her eyes and heart in time.

A raspy groan came from behind her, and the arm around her waist tightened with bruising force.

Her lazy stretch stilled. The sound was familiar. Aiden’s voice, but not his normal, smooth baritone. No, this voice was gritty, almost guttural. It was the voice he used at night while dreaming.

The dreams, although she suspected they were more nightmares than dreams, had occurred often enough over the past three years. She’d asked him about them. He’d brushed her questions aside or distracted her with sex. Awesome sex, true. But sex, as a means of distraction, was ultimately unsatisfying, at least in the aftermath. She’d laid there beside him, panting and spent, yet emotionally empty.

She tugged on his arm until it loosened and fell away. He stirred against her back as she leaned across the mattress, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand. Bright light temporarily blinded her, but her eyes had already adjusted by the time she twisted around to face him.

He’d pushed the sheet and blanket to his waist, giving her eyes plenty to appreciate. Hell’s bells, the man was gorgeous. His chest and shoulders were bronzed and muscled—a living classical sculpture. His thick black hair stood upright, mussed and spikey. A layer of stubble darkened his lower cheeks and jawline. Dark, sleepy eyes caught her gaze. But they were vague…distant…like he was still trapped in whatever dream he’d awakened from. Even as she watched, the fog dissipated from his eyes.

His gaze focused on her face, sharpened. A small frown pleated his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s my line.” She reached up and smoothed the furrows from his brow. “You were having a bad dream.”

“Yeah?” That inward, distant expression touched his eyes again. After a moment, he sighed, caught her hand and drew it down to his lips. He feathered a kiss across her knuckles. “I woke you? I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, studying his face. He wasn’t pulling away. In the past, the mere mention of his dreams brought a reaction. He’d either roll out of bed to use the head, or lean in for a kiss, which always led to another bout of sex. This time, the light kiss he’d dropped on her hand felt more like an apology.

He’d opened up the night before, shared some of his secrets. Was he ready to share this one too?

“You know you can tell me about your nightmares, right?” she offered cautiously. “Sometimes dragging them into the open lessens their power.”

“This wasn’t a nightmare. At least, not like my normal ones.” That distant look fogged his eyes again. He shook his head. The frown was back, but it looked more puzzled than stressed.

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