Alpha Queen (Claimed by Wolves #4) - Callie Rose Page 0,57

Clint. I recognize his gait—it was ingrained in my memory over the years I lived in his house.

I glance at the stairs, then look up at Archer, my heart hammering. I don’t want him to see Clint or to see what happens next. That part of my life is over. It’s history, and Archer is the future.

We have to get out of here.

I latch onto his arm and draw on my magic, pulling it up from deep within myself as easily as breathing. My scars turn black, and smoke seeps from my fingertips to billow around us until the basement is completely obscured. Everything spins and whirls, and then we plummet down a long, dark hallway in my mind. I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing, but I’m desperate to get us away from that place. I treat the dream like astral travel, building a tunnel in my consciousness and carrying us away.

We land on slippery ground in a dark, cold space. I stumble but don’t lose my footing, although the same can’t be said for Archer, who definitely wasn’t expecting to be spirited from one place to the next.

Straightening, I look around to see what new dream I’ve conjured up, and I realize it’s not a dream at all.

It’s the cave.

The cave on the astral plane where I meet with Cleo—only she’s not here. It’s just me and Archer.

Shock floods over me like a deluge of cold water.

My breath hitches, and suddenly, I’m being pulled through space again, drawn through the ether so fast it makes me dizzy.

I snap awake, my whole body jerking from the violence of the return to my body. Beside me, Archer sits up with a gasp and turns to me, his eyes wide. For a long moment, we stare at each other, both of us considering the ramifications of what just happened.

“Did that…” He shakes his head, blinking hard. “Did we just… share a dream?”

I nod as I whisper back, my heart hammering in my chest. “I think so. You came into Clint’s basement while I was there.”

“Then you took us somewhere else?” he verifies. “A cave? I didn’t get a good look.”

Trystan groans and flails his arms, still half-asleep. “What the fuck is going on? What time is it?”

In the darkness, Ridge grunts as if he’s just been elbowed or something, probably by Trystan. “Ow,” he grumbles, his voice deep and gruff. He was awake on watch, but he still sounds tired.

Dare growls and rolls away from us. The whole scene is so comical that it almost makes me laugh. It would if I weren’t still reeling from the dream.

On the other side of me, Ridge sits up straighter as he searches out me and Archer in the gloom. “What’s going on?” he asks, concern evident in his tone. “Is everything okay?”

Though Trystan and Dare don’t sit up, I can sense they’re both awake and listening, so I catch them all up on what happened with the dream.

When I’m finished with my fairly short tale, Ridge asks, “Have you been able to lucid dream before?”

“Lucid dream?” I’ve never heard the term.

“It’s when you control what’s happening in your dreams,” he explains. “Most people can’t control their dreams. They just are what they are. But some people are capable of lucid dreaming, which means firstly that you know you’re dreaming, and secondly, that you can manipulate and control every little thing that happens, no matter how deeply asleep you are. It’s not all that common.”

I think back. Sleeping at Clint’s house was an ordeal all on its own. I didn’t have a lock on my bedroom door, and if Clint got it into his head that he wanted to beat me, it didn’t matter whether I was sleeping or not. So for the longest time, I didn’t really sleep. I just dozed, constantly waking at every creak and groan in the house.

But I recall a handful of recurring dreams I’ve had over the years, and it seems like I was often able to do whatever I wanted in those instances. I can’t be certain, not really, but I think I was able to do exactly what Ridge described.

“Maybe I could,” I say carefully. “It just always seemed normal to me.”

“I don’t think that was a normal dream.” Archer clicks the bedside lamp on, and light floods the room to a chorus of masculine groans. Trystan throws a pillow at him, and I laugh softly.

But Ridge nods, looking equal parts grave and intrigued. “I agree.