The Art of Warren

•Thirty Six•

"Helping others is the way we help ourselves."

"Wake your big head up."

He could feel the soft, thin fingers of a woman sliding over his back. Whatever turmoil dream he was in, her gentle and inviting fingers were soothing him slowly into reality.

Eyes snapping open, he immediately noticed the woman laying next to him in bed. A creamy, silk night gown clung to her dark skin. Her kinky curls framed her diamond shaped face. Her honey eyes were glued to his own in the most loving gaze he had ever witnessed in his life.

"Are you okay?" She smirked as Trent reached out to her and grabbed her around the waist. He pulled her soft body tight against his solid one. He inhaled her scent deeply, groaning at the smell of her hair. He loved the smell of her. Everything about her.

Trent answered with a kiss to her neck, pressing deep on the mark he had given her. "Guess that was your answer," she gasped as he pressed into her body, loving the feel of her body pressed against him.

"I have to go now, Trent. Let me go."

He laughed, his hold on her tight as he tried to kiss her again. "Fuck no. Let's stay in bed."

The soft struggle she gave him began to increase and he could smell her worry. "Trent get off of me. Now. I can't be with you. This is wrong. I have my seal still."

Anger flared up in his body like he never experienced before. "You're mine, Arana. I don't give a fuck what anyone says," he snarled twisting her body around so she was facing him. His hand grabbed at her chin and held her tightly.

She screamed out in pain. "You're mine, Arana. You gotta get that through your fucking head!"

______________________

Arana awoke with a scream.

Her skin was flushed, her body on fire. She brought her shaky hand up to her forehead and wiped the slick sweat beaded down her face.

This couldn't keep happening. She couldn't keep having the same nightmares. Dreaming about men...no a man in lewd positions, in bed with her, touching her was a major issue. A flaw being nailed in her polished, bronze skin.

Why had she dreamed of herself through his point of view? It was odd, uncomfortable, weird. This dream was through his eyes though and it sickened her. He saw her as beautiful, he lusted after her almost painfully. It was all a lie, it wasn't the truth just a dream.

It was the fourth day she had dreamed such horrific and sinful hands on her body and creeping into her mind. It was all the sinners fault. All his fault.

Ever since that awful...no day full of blessings, her mind has been in turmoil and confusion. The day her novice found her mate, her blessing was the day she met that man. In all of her 24 years she had never, ever second guessed herself. Second guessed her decisions, or her ways. The moment that foul mouthed, tattoo dipped, heathen busted through her novices door...she had no peace.

"Priestess! The last forenoon meal for the holy order is being served!"

Goodness. It was already 9am! Having her lunar marking meant she was officially one with the goddess and permanently apart of the order. They priests and priestesses woke in the early morning and had most of their affairs in order by noon. It was nine am. Her tardiness was shameful.