The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

Liran meets Dit'teh

Liran left Imorah in the tent and headed back to the teahouse, his mind preoccupied with Dit'teh. She had seen him—they'd made eye contact—but she hadn't acknowledged him. He'd watched her out of the corner of his eye wrapping herself up in her robe as everyone said hello.

He felt a surge of anger recalling the outfit she'd been wearing, and tried to push it away. She wasn't his woman, so why did he care how she made her money? And yet, the thought of it filled him with rage.

He'd tried to save her—tried to take her away from this life, but she'd chosen this existence over him. He'd never been able to reconcile that decision even after all these years. He'd been a fool—a young boy, only fourteen, when he'd met her. He hadn't even seen her for who she truly was until it was already too late; he'd already fallen in love. And some part of him, some foolish part of him, believed that maybe she had fallen in love with him too.

"Stupid!" he said to himself. "Stupid, stupid!"

The memories overwhelmed him. Those times were long ago—a lifetime actually. He'd learned so much, so much had happened since he'd first run away at eleven years old. He wasn't that little boy anymore. He was a man. He wasn't going to indulge in fantasies about a prostitute, he decided.

But seconds after he'd decided he wouldn't waste another moment's thought on her, he wondered if she would be there at the teahouse when he returned, feeling sick at the idea and desperate for it at the same time. She'd always had this effect on him. God, how he hated her.

He tried to breathe and focus on the task at hand. It was going to take every ounce of his effort to pull this off successfully.

David, his contact who might bring them to the underground highway, was long gone. Had left Weywey years ago. Phiona had mentioned there was a big chance he'd have moved, and it was true. Now they were stuck. And they couldn't stay long here—Imorah would draw too much attention. He had to find a solution. And fast. But who could he trust?

He couldn't let his emotions get in the way. He swallowed and pushed away the anxiety, the regret, the sense of powerlessness that he felt, and thought about Imorah—she was depending on him. For her sake, he had to be a man. Get his emotions under control. But he'd woken up in the wrong way this morning and hadn't felt right all day. He just couldn't put his finger on what was wrong, but he had this terrible feeling in his gut.

He was so engrossed that he didn't notice the shrouded figure crossing the path in front of him until it was too late. They collided, and Liran clumsily regained his footing just in time to grab the person's arm to stop him—no, it was a her—from falling over.

"Excuse me," he yelped. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

The woman rested awkwardly in his arms for a little more than a few seconds, but it was long enough. He smelt her before he saw her face—it was Dit'teh.

He closed his eyes, and pushed her away from him gently, holding onto her arm to steady her. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

She looked up, and the hood of her cloak fell from her head, revealing her eyes and her naked neck to the moonlit sky. She didn't say anything, only shook her head slowly back and forth. She breathed deeply. "By God, Liran," she said when she was steady, "You always knew how to mess things up!"

Liran realized she was joking, and shook his head. He laughed, and rubbed his face. "I'm sorry, Dit'teh," he murmured. What was he sorry for? Leaving her, loving her, running into her? None of those things. What was he sorry for, then? For meeting her? Wasn't she the one who should be apologizing? She was the one who'd humiliated him all those years ago. But in this moment, eye to eye, he forgot all that he hated her for, and felt only all the things he'd ever loved in her.

She was crass, vulgar even, but she was real. She was a viper and she played with men's hearts and desires, but she wasn't ashamed of it. She was at least ten years older than him, but Liran had seen sides of her, a childish vulnerability that had made him want to destroy the world or anything that might hurt her.

"Dit'teh," he murmured, closing his eyes. His hand was still on her arm. Their flesh was separated by the heavy cotton cloak she was wearing, but he could feel the electricity through it. He was intensely aroused, and wanted her. His mind raced, thinking about where he could take her.

"You're married now?" she said quietly, interrupting his manic plans. 

"Oh no," Liran stuttered, "Ah, I mean.... uuhh"

Dit'teh laughed, a hearty cackle. "She looks like a beauty, and you're already tired of her?"

In the moonlight, Liran caught a glimpse—a look on her face that he'd seen her make a hundred times, but never toward him. It was the look she gave her clients—the ones she was seducing. It was contempt veiled by a shimmering playfulness. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

He removed his hand from her arm as reality sank in. His lust, so strong a second ago, was gone. He swallowed. What had just happened? He'd almost fallen into her—would have, still could, but suddenly the night felt cold. It was a moment in time. He faltered and almost lost his chance.

"Dit'teh," he whispered, finding it difficult to speak.

"Ayah," she answered.

"I'm in trouble. I need help."

The look of contempt fell off her face in an instant, replaced with genuine concern. She grabbed his arm and leaned in close. "What is it, my love?"

He felt tears at his eyes. Could he tell her? Should he?

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Author's Note:

So, dear readers, I'm wiping my brow. That was a close call. For a few minutes there, I thought maybe Liran and Dit'teh were going to hook up!

What do you think? Should Liran trust his former lover and ask for her help? Or should he find someone more trustworthy?

Thanks for reading!