The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 1461: Drifting in Dreams (Part One)

The garden was warm.

That was the first thing Ashlynn was aware of when she slipped into the land of dreams that she and Nyrielle shared. There was a warmth that seeped into her skin like sunlight after a long winter, so different from the cold cabin and the damp blankets and the endless fog of the River Luath that it took her breath away.

The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine and lavender, and somewhere above her, she could hear the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a breeze that carried the faintest hint of roses.

She was lying on her stomach on a low, cushioned sofa set among the flower beds of Nyrielle’s castle garden, her cheek pressed against cool silk while her arms were folded beneath the pillow. Her blouse had been unlaced and pushed down past her shoulders, leaving her back bare from the nape of her neck to the small of her waist, and long, cool fingers were working lavender-scented oil into the muscles along her spine with slow, firm strokes that pulled a soft groan from her lips before she’d fully settled into the dream.

"There you are," Nyrielle murmured, her voice like dark honey poured over velvet. "I’ve been waiting for you, my darling."

"Mmm," Ashlynn managed, which was the best she could do while Nyrielle’s thumbs found the knot between her shoulder blades and pressed into it with a steady, patient pressure that made her toes curl against the silk. "How long?"

"Long enough to prepare the garden for you," Nyrielle said. For a moment, the dream space shifted at the edges of Ashlynn’s awareness, layering in Ashlynn’s memories of the garden and making it feel more... alive than it had when she first slid into the dream. Suddenly, the trees weren’t just decorations, but living, whispering companions that welcomed her home.

This was their shared territory, shaped by both of them, but Nyrielle had clearly been here first, sculpting the warm summer night into something that felt as far from a freezing river cog as two people could manage without invoking the sweltering heat of the Briar. The moonlight that filtered through the canopy of flowering trees cast everything in silver, and the flower beds that surrounded them were impossibly lush, thick with blooms that wouldn’t normally share a season.

"You’re tense," Nyrielle observed, her fingers tracing down from Ashlynn’s shoulders to the muscles along the sides of her ribs, kneading with a care that spoke of long familiarity with the way her lover’s body held its worries. "Even in sleep, your body is wound tight enough to snap. What have they done to you out there in the cold?"

"I’ve been on a boat for most of the day," Ashlynn murmured into the pillow, feeling the knots in her back release one by one under Nyrielle’s gentle ministrations. The sensations were real but softened by the distance between them, like hearing music from the room next door or feeling Nyri’s hands through a layer of soft silk even though her skin was bare.

Every touch was present and warm but it was also missing the intimacy of real skin against skin that she craved. The further she sailed from the Vale, the more the dream thinned at its edges, and she found herself pressing into Nyrielle’s hands as if she could close the gap through wanting alone.

"A boat," Nyrielle repeated, and there was a note of genuine pleasure in her voice. "Does my darling have a ship beneath her feet again?"

"Barely," Ashlynn said with a faint laugh that vibrated through the muscles Nyrielle was working. "Twelve ribs and a single mast. Isabell counted. You should have seen her face."

"I can imagine," Nyrielle said, her fingers gliding up to the nape of Ashlynn’s neck, gathering the pale blonde hair that had fallen loose and draping it over one shoulder to expose the long, slender line of her neck. She paused there, her cool fingertips resting against the pulse point where Ashlynn’s heartbeat fluttered, and Ashlynn felt the echo of Nyrielle’s own heart quicken in her chest in response.

"Nyri," Ashlynn breathed, half in warning, and half in invitation. For a moment, Ashlynn’s pulse quickened in response to Nyrielle’s hunger, and she squirmed beneath her lover’s touch, uncertain whether she really wanted to stop even as her body craved the feeling of her lover’s fangs sinking into her soft flesh.

"Hush," Nyrielle said softly, though her fingers traced a slow path from the pulse point down the side of Ashlynn’s neck, following the curve of her shoulder before returning to the safer territory of her spine.

"I’m taking care of you," Nyrielle breathed, bringing her lips close enough to Ashlynn’s ear for her breath to tickle the fine hairs of her lover’s neck. "Let me."

Nyrielle’s hands worked lower, pressing the heels of her palms into the small of Ashlynn’s back where the tension had gathered into a solid wall of knotted muscle. Ashlynn groaned again, louder this time, and she felt rather than heard Nyrielle’s quiet, satisfied hum at having drawn the sound from her.

"You push yourself too hard," Nyrielle murmured as she worked. "You carry every burden as if you’re the only one strong enough to hold it, and then you wonder why your body aches."

"I’m not the only one," Ashlynn protested weakly, biting her lower lip as Nyrielle’s finger tips trailed along her ribs, lightly brushing against the curve of her breasts before returning to the muscles of her back. "Isabell has been carrying her share and then some. So have Ignatious, Marcel, and Ollie..."

"I’m not talking about them," Nyrielle said, leaning down until Ashlynn could feel the cool whisper of her breath against the bare skin of her back. "I’m talking about you, my love. The burdens you carry in here," she said, pressing her palm flat between Ashlynn’s shoulder blades, directly over her heart. "Those are the ones that worry me the most."

"So surrender to me," Nyrielle purred as she pressed her lips lightly against Ashlynn’s skin, savoring her scent. When she spoke again, her voice was rougher, deeper, almost velvety in its texture as a thread of hunger crept in despite her efforts to hold it back.

"Surrender to me," Nyrielle repeated as her fingers dipped lower once again, this time sliding between Ashlynn’s slender waist and the cushions of the couch before they traced their way upward. "And let me carry some of your burdens," she said. "At least, for a little while..."