Stars Dancing [Dreams-To-Lovers Romance]

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RYST

Dream Journal

There was a silver pot falling out of blackness directly at me! It struck me with a force that knocked me down and knocked the breath right out of me. I saw black. Reeling, I tried to stand, but another silver pot fell from the sky and hit me on the head. Another struck my legs. Another hit my ribs. Another crushed my foot. I struggled, trying to move, trying to break free—

"Ryst!" a deep voice commanded, "I've got you, honey. I've got you. Wake up!" I struggled, pushing against something hard. "It's me, Ryst. It's me. I've got you. You're okay. Breathe, baby."

Sanity returned, and I realized I was pushing Nayth with my arms. Senseless to even try shoving my husband. I wrapped my arms around that torso of solid muscle. "I've got you, Ryst. You're okay."

"Nightmare—" I started.

"I saw it. Here," Nayth flipped on the lamp and handed me my dream journal so I could write down the latest nightmare. Five nights in a row I'd woken my love up in fits. I flipped back through the journal, re-reading my recent dreams. My sleep had become a very troubled place. I switched the light off and rested my cheek on Nayth's chest as his arms wrapped around me.

"I'm sorry, Nayth."

"What did I say about apologizing, Methela?"

"You can say whatever you want, Nayth Carmidee. That won't stop me from having regret that I wake you up in the night with nightmares punching you and struggling against you."

Nayth chuckled. He had no regrets. He was certain. Something was happening that needed to happen, and I'd figure it out in time.

"Trying to punch me. Trying to struggle. Light weight. Happy anniversary, by the way. You gonna beat on me to celebrate?"

"Flirty goading, husband?"

"Try and hit me, Ryst. It'll be therapeutic. I miss Borden anyway. I could use a good beating. Give me your best shot, baby." Nayth was turned on. I decided to join him. I hadn't been forceful in bed much lately.

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"Do you want to be fucked, husband?"

"I won't say 'no.'"

I was sitting atop Nayth with my hands on his abdomen and his big hands holding my hips, him slamming into me reminding me exactly how good it felt to be thoroughly fucked by a man who liked to fuck a woman properly when I became more than me, and Nayth became more than Nayth.

I was me, and I was Vast Ryst. He was Nayth, and he was Great Nayth. We were gods among mortals, and we overflowed with lust, power, and passion. I looked in Nayth's eyes, and he was power itself, golden light spilling out of him. I cast my head back and power burst out of my heart.

Our bedroom glowed with silver starlight and golden sunshine and ecstasy. Suddenly, Nayth and I both understood everything.

We'd chosen this life. We'd chosen to come to Andromeda Galaxy and take on small human bodies because we'd wanted to experience what it was like. We'd become mortals— immortal mortals because we'd chosen it.

And once we had, the choices had all become that of the mortal forms we inhabited. We were now the created creators. Every choice was our own. No one outside of us was scripting our lives for us. Whatever we did, it was up to us.

We had to create our lives. No one else would do it for us. The lights faded, and I was just Ryst. Nayth was just Nayth. I looked at my husband, and he moved my hips.

We smiled at each other and rode the wave into bliss.

Play "Farthest Star" by Ren Crieve

NAYTH

I handed Peydran an ale and a slice of sourdough coated with cheddar spread. He'd only drink a third of the ale, and he'd only eat one slice of bread, but he'd finish the celery sticks slathered in cheese. Good thing too, I hated celery. I'd probably eat all the bread and some of the sliced apples.

I took a long drag of ale. It was good, and Chef Amran kept my fridge loaded with ale and cashew nut cheese. Ryst didn't mind that I enjoyed bread she wouldn't eat, so it worked out just fine. It was Relapse Day 3 for me and Ryst, and composing Day 5 for Peydran.

Ryst was asleep inside, and Peydran and I were on the terrace watching the sun go down as the heat of the day started to fade.

The evening quiet was interrupted by a saxophone riff. Peydran and I grinned at each other as the sax grew closer. It was upbeat and fun, and we jumped up boogying as the sax came up the hill.

Ren's eyes were alight with mischief as he approached and swung the sax around to his back, pulling Peydran's hips to his.

"That's called 'Farthest Star.' We're celebrating. Let's go get married at the courthouse and give the lab our banjo to make science-y babies with a girl. You ready for that song, Pey'o?"

"Whoop! Whoop!" Peydran cried as I sang out "Ho! Ho!"

My laughter followed them down the hill. I rolled my eyes at their backs. It had only taken them five years to decide to get married.

RYST

"Dwinlyn?" I asked Peydran. "What a pretty name. What does it mean?"

"Love overflowing," Ren told me.

"What a name you have, little one," I said to the newborn on my lap, putting my index finger in his palm, and his little baby hand held on. The obgyneca in me wanted to unwrap his swaddling blankets and listen to his tiny heart, but I scooped him up and held little Dwinlyn Crieve-Madrano against my left shoulder, closing my eyes and smiling.

His presence was warm, and his mind was like a peach cloud, soft and loving. He was happy and content. He really liked my mind. He felt so at home with me wrapped around him.

I realized I was standing, swaying, and Ren's arms were around me, his mind watching mine.

"He's so beautiful, Peydran. So perfect. So happy and content. He is so full of love," I told my best friend.

"You can sense his mind?" Peydran asked softly.

"Ummm hmmm. He's a lot like Ren. Such a beautiful baby. You made such a beautiful boy. He's wonderful, and so happy. Welcome to the family, little Dwinlyn. You're home now. We love you so much."