“Why have you done this to yourself?” he asked her.
Some of her spirit ignited in her green gaze at that. “I do nothing to myself. I did not ask for these dreams that prevent my sleep, for visions that besiege me until my mind can no longer even think.”
“You fight them.”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“They only bring pain.”
“Because you fight them.”
“The last time I gave in to them, I lost a brother.” The sadness that filled the space between them squeezed at his own heart.
“You cannot—”
“Please, you said you can help me sleep. You can make the constant edge of worry leave me. Do it. Please.”
It would take a heart of stone to ignore the femwolf’s pleas. She was desperate for rest of both her spirit and her body. He could give that to her.
“Hush. I will help.”
“Thank you.”
Niall came in then, carrying a pile of furs.
“Place them over there, in the center of the cave,” Eirik instructed the big, scarred warrior.
The cavern was large enough for Eirik to release his dragon in comfort and would provide space for the other warriors to rest in relative comfort as well. Not that their comfort was a priority for him, but Eirik was used to considering the needs of his people. This Faol and human had become his people upon his joining the Sinclair clan.
Niall laid out the furs. “You can really help her sleep?”
“I would not claim so if it were not true.”
The warrior grunted. “I will help Guaire settle the horses.”
Eirik nodded, his focus on laying the already dozing Ciara down among the furs.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze as he leaned over her. “My sleep does not go deep enough. I always wake.”
“You will not this night.”
“You promise?” she asked with a pain-filled hope.
“I do.”
He laid his hands on both sides of her head and concentrated on letting calming thoughts flow between them. She closed her eyes again, but remained tense.
She’d gone so long without real sleep, her beleaguered body had forgotten how to rest. He began to croon with the sounds of his dragon and a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
The temptation to press their lips together was too great to resist and he pressed a gentle kiss on her. She sighed against his lips, her body going lax.
And just like that, she’d fallen asleep.
Eirik wasted no time shifting into his dragon form, pulling the small human into his arms while his tail came around to wrap over her legs. He ignored the sounds of Niall and Guaire preparing their own campsite behind his back.
His dragon knew them to be friend, not foe, so it was not bothered by the men’s choice of camp spot. His raven had settled into sleep with the woman he considered his mate, already seeking out her dreams.
Eirik had not told the Sinclair that his gift was twofold and both the raven and dragon could influence Ciara’s dreams. It was not necessary to share that information and he had not been sure it would be relevant regardless. In the past, his raven had only been able to enter the dreams of his family.
But as his dragon slipped into sleep as well, his power going out to shield Ciara from the Faolchú Chridhe that would call to her, his raven sought out Ciara’s thoughts in sleep.
They were in a cottage, the bedchamber they entered not much larger than the bed a woman with gray hair slept upon. But she was not asleep. She was dead, the stench of dried and congealed blood too strong to mean anything else.
Eirik could feel Ciara’s distress, the deep wound to her heart as she realized her mother had taken her own life.
This was not where Ciara’s mind needed to go. Eirik’s raven dug deeper into the dreamscape, seeking images of the woman on the bed in happier times. He found them, pulling them to the forefront, taking the dreaming Ciara to an afternoon learning to sew, her mother’s hands guiding hers with gentle touches.
Suddenly the dream Ciara looked up and met Eirik’s eyes. She knew he was there. She smiled and said, “Thank you.”
The cottage fell away and they were now in Ciara’s bedchamber. She was in her bed, wearing nothing but her sleeveless shift to sleep in.
Once again she looked at him, this time her eyes not so grateful as wary. “I don’t want to have another dream about you.”
“Do you dream about me?” he asked, thinking that probably he