Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter Eighteen

I had the dream of Hannibal again.

I knew the moment I smelled sea water, sandalwood, and smoke. The soothing comfort of thick blankets against my bare skin, a warm summer breeze, the golden rays of sunshine pouring in through the windows, falling in a cascade across the bed where Hannibal laid beside me, his back forever turned to me. He looked positively angelic laying there, his long silky black hair spread out across the pillows, dark lashes a crescent against rich caramel skin, his lips parted ever so slightly.

Hannibal had always been such a silent sleeper.

One would think him dead if they first saw him, but upon closer inspection, I caught the slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. He looked so peaceful like this.

Akin was lucky. He was able to see Hannibal like this every day. He was able to touch the sight before him, love him, and hold him. I was only allowed to watch, and I'd come to learn that that should be enough. Greed was never in my nature. I was okay with this... I had to be. It was the closest I'd ever get to him.

I hadn't had this dream in a while. I couldn't quite remember when the last time was. I was grateful for it, though. I needed some reprieve. Awake, I was forced to face the cold reality of my enforced destiny and the fact that I would always be alone. Asleep, I could dream of the one thing in this life I'd ever truly wanted.

I also wasn't forced to make black and white decisions. I wasn't forced to choose between evil and a lesser evil, between my duty and my long-awaited death. Here, there was only peace and Hannibal. The perfect stress reliever.

I closed my eyes and savored the feel of the blankets around me, the warm sunshine, the soothing smells. I felt the bed shift slightly, a frown starting at the corners of my lips. That was new. The bed only shifted when I did. Unsure if I wanted to open my eyes or not, I hesitated after a moment. It felt like someone was watching me, and suddenly alarmed that Hades's bastard son had infiltrated the one place I had fought so hard to keep him from, my eyes flew open and I froze.

Hannibal was looking right at me. Mismatched eyes watched me, the white one practically glowing in the sunlight. Even more shocking was the fact that his expression wasn't twisted in disgust or grimacing. Instead, he looked sleepy, as if he had just woken up... before a faint smile grazed his lips and I sucked in a sharp breath.

What's going on?

Hannibal never looked at me in my dreams. Hannibal never smiled at me, ever. Hell, Hannibal had never given me a look like this. It was why I had never been able to dream of anything more than his peaceful sleeping. Even dreams had to have some touch of reality, but this one... Hannibal was smiling at me. At me.

Had my connection with the Source changed the way I could dream? Or had I finally died and been sent to my own personal piece of heaven? I couldn't find an explanation, and the longer I laid there staring at him with my mouth open and no sound coming out, the more awkward it got.

Hannibal furrowed his brow, not in a frown of displeasure, but more in a curious stare, lips still smiling.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his voice deep and husky from sleep. A wave of desire tore through me and left me breathless as I tried to search for the words to respond. How I could respond? Did he know this was a dream? Did he know how weird this was? Judging from that sleep smile and the fact that he hadn't killed me yet, this appeared to be normal to him and a strange helplessness possessed me. Normally, I'd shoot out of the bed and start telling him how stupid he was, how stupid this dream was, that I was going to go to the bathroom. Instead, I did what I always wanted to do.

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