Unbound (Bound To You sequel)

EIGHT - *Dante*

When he dreamt of his mate, of Daniella, it was always of her death. Of her bloody body. They'd let him see her, after. Long after. She'd been cleaned up, but he'd still been able to smell the blood on her.

He knew how wraiths killed.

They liked to use their claws, to rip open but not too deeply, then watched, slowly drawing the life from their victims.

In his dreams, he saw her die over and over again. Always a different way, yet so very similar. Always so much blood. Screams. Always in a dark place. Always.

Only now he was in a garden, a beautiful blooming garden. Full of flowers and a soft pleasant summer breeze that was not native to Canada, that was for sure. And Daniella was there with him.

In the wedding dress, she'd told him she wanted. She'd shown it to him in a magazine. It wasn't one of those big puffy things, it was sleek and tight and so her. There were flowers in her hair, which was unbound.

That was the first thing that wasn't quite right. Daniella liked to keep her hair in a braid. He sometimes teased her about that. Why did she not cut her hair short when she always kept it tied up, braided? What was the point of having long hair if she never wore it down? 

"Hello Dante," she said once he reached her. She smiled at him and he drank her in.

"Dany," he whispered, worried the dream would disappear and wanting nothing in the world more than to stay forever. "Oh god."

He hugged her to him, breathing her in. Her scent was like it always had been. Like moonlight it sang in him. He wanted to drown in her scent, her warmth, in her.

"Shhh," she said, stroking his head.

"I missed you," he said, pulling back and cupping her head. He kissed her. Had to. No other way he'd survive another second.

"I never left," she said once they pulled a part, putting a hand on his heart. "I'm right here."

Her eyes were green.

That was wrong.

Daniella's eye were brown.

He let go of her, confused.

She wasn't wearing her hair the right way. And she'd never wear flowers in it. Her eyes weren't the right color. It was all too vivid. Too real. Yet he knew this was a dream.

Something wasn't right.

"Who are you?" he demanded. Wanting to shake her, rail at her but unable to do so, because she was wearing the face of his mate. A cruel way to torment him, for sure.

She smiled sadly. "You may call me Nova."

"You're not her," he said, feeling his happiness turn to dust. He'd wanted so badly for it to be Dany. But of course it wasn't.

"No," the dream woman who looked like Daniella but wasn't, said.

A swirl of anger welled inside of him. He'd never been angry like this before Dainella died. But now, in this dream, in this beautiful place, with this thing wearing his love's face, he couldn't hold it back.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her and pushing her against an alley wall.

He blinked, they were no longer in the garden, but one of the many dark allies of his nightmares. Rain poured down, soaking the woman that wasn't Daniella's long hair. Soaking her lovely wedding dress. A dress Daniella had never gotten to wear in life.

"Stop it," he said. "You are not her. You will not wear her face."

The woman shimmered and chaged. Instead of Daniella, she became a petite pale woman. It took him a few seconds to place this face. She was the star of a block busting series of romantic teen movies. He'd seen her on a billboard just the other day.
Yet another illusion. Another trick. And now she stank of magic.

"I'm sorry," she said as he let go of her shoulders, his anger draining away. "This is a sad place."

Dante nodded eyes scanning for Daniella. She'd be here soon. She always was. Just like she always died. He was back to his normal dream. That was almost a comfort. 

"We should go," she said, holding out one pale slim hand. "We have lots to talk about."

"She'll be here soon," he said, not looking at her. "She'll be here-"

"Shhhh," she said, putting her hand on the side of his face, making him look at her.

He stared into her eyes then and felt everything else falling away. The alley dissolving and his fear and anger too. All that was left was those green eyes. And all he needed and wanted and ever had believed in, was reflected in them. But he shouldn't let himself get lost in them. He should stay here, in the dark, with Daniella.

"Let go," she whispered, her voice like a caress. "You've watched her die enough times."