Laurel
One week later
Life was miserable. I was miserable. I'd spent the past eight days moping on my sofa, watching silly shows on the telly and eating takeaways. Even junk food wasn't enough to make me feel any better.
At first, I thought it was because I'd been fired. Nicole had sent me a text the moment I'd returned to London, telling me to collect my things the next day. So much for the hope that she'd keep me on for old times' sake. I'd written good stories in the past, done some great investigating, but it all didn't matter when faced with the huge bill the Hot Tatties agency had sent her. I bet Nicole was going to try and fight it, but I was no longer part of that now. At least she'd agreed to let Jenna complete her internship.
But that wasn't the only reason why I was feeling terrible. I missed Rune. It was ridiculous, I'd not even spent 24 hours with the man, but he'd left an aching hole in my heart that no amount of cheesy chips could fill. I couldn't stop thinking of him. When I ate, I thought of the alien food during our impromptu buffet. When I put on socks, I thought of how he'd healed my ankle injury. When I went to the loo, I thought of the strange alien bathroom on board the spaceship. When I...
It had to stop. I couldn't do this anymore. I had to focus on this next section of my life. Get a new job. Forget about everything that had happened. Try to continue on as normal, even though I now knew that aliens were real, circling our planet in their ships. Rune was somewhere up there. Did he think of me? Had he forgiven me yet? Would I ever see him again?
He haunted my dreams. Last night, I'd dreamed he was strapped to a table, writhing in anger or pain, foam coming from his mouth. I'd woken up shaking, my pillow wet from crying in my sleep.
I needed a distraction, but I couldn't get myself to leave my home. Outside, there were people. Normal human beings who had no idea of what I'd seen, what I knew.
Three days after my return, I'd stalked some conspiracy theorist forums online, trying to find someone who described an encounter with the Vikingar. But I'd given up after a short while, mostly because those forums were full of crazies who only wanted attention, and because it triggered yet more thoughts of Rune.
I wished I'd never taken that assignment. I should have stuck to my guns instead of letting Nicole convince me that it was a good story. If I'd continued my research into the industrial espionage case, my heart wouldn't be broken. I wouldn't be sitting here in my tiny flat, eating greasy food, watching crap daytime telly and having tearful nightmares.
Could life ever get back to normal? Could I forget about what I'd seen? I was surprised the agency hadn't followed up with me, making me sign a non-disclosure agreement or something like that. But then, who would believe me? I'd be just yet another crackpot trying to convince others that aliens were real.
Life would never be like it was before. I had to accept that.
Which also meant I had nothing to lose.
A strange calm filled me as I picked up my phone and dialled the number of the Hot Tatties agency.
Rune
I knew I was dying. They tried to make me as comfortable as possible, but everyone was scared to come too close. I'd bitten Njal when he'd adjusted one of my restraints. I barely remembered it. Just one of many foggy moments. I only had a few clicks of clarity every day. The rest was filled with the agonising urge to kill everyone on board this ship. When I could think clearly, I knew that wouldn't bring Laurel back to me, but as soon as I lost my grip on reality again, it made perfect sense. They were keeping me from her. They were killing me.
I'd long lost track of time. Had it been days, weeks or months since I'd last held Laurel in my arms? I could still remember her scent. The way she'd felt when her body was pressed against mine. The sound of her laugh.
She was gone. Now all I had to do was wait for the end. The fýst would kill me. It was a slow, violent process. If I didn't get free from my restraints and die battling my friends and crewmates, I'd perish here on this bed, strapped down like an animal. Already I was getting weaker. I could no longer hold food down. And throughout, my mating axe burned as if on fire.
I'd always hoped I'd die in battle, glorious and drunk on the blood of my enemies. I would kill many, injure even more, leaving a lasting legacy. My foes would speak of me in hushed tones long after I was gone. My allies would sing songs about me.
But none of it was going to happen. The fýst was claiming me.
I drifted again. Dreams of violence were interspersed with glimpses of Laurel. She was sad and lonely. I wanted to reach out and hug her against my chest. Dream or reality? I could no longer tell the difference. Every time I dreamed of her, I woke feeling a little weaker. But it was worth it. I wanted to see her. Couldn't get enough of her. Even though in my clear moments, I knew she'd gone for good, I still held the hope of seeing her again. And if she wasn't here with me, at least I could gaze upon her in my feverish dreams.
Once, I imagined I heard her voice. I tried to sit up, straining against the straps that bound me, howling with frustration. By the time I gave up, her voice had gone. Just another sleepless dream?
Njal visited me often, always alone, never bringing his mate with me. I understood why. Even restrained, I was still dangerous. Sometimes he would talk to me, but most of the time he'd just sit there, watching me with a tortured expression. I almost felt bad for him, until I remembered that it was him keeping me from my mate, how I had to kill him and all the other Vikingar, and turned into a raging madman once more.
"... careful, he's delirious..."
I was dreaming of Laurel again. I refused to let the outside voices pull me from that dream. She was so beautiful today in a blue dress matching her hair, tousled by the wind as she stood on the top of a mountain. Lightning flashed around her. Rain poured from the skies, but she herself stayed dry, more powerful than the weather herself. She was a goddess. I'd dedicate my life to her if I could.
"Rune?"
She spoke and yet her lips didn't move.
"Rune, can you hear me?"
The voice didn't match the image. I fought to cling to my dream, but that voice pulled me into the cold harshness of reality. As always, I expected the pain in my mating axe to be overwhelming, but it was only a deep ache today. I opened my eyes in surprise. Fragments of the dream world remained. Laurel was still there, in her blue dress, except that the lightning and rain had vanished.
I blinked. There was someone next to her, someone real, but I couldn't focus on them. My attention was glued to Laurel, the sadness in her eyes, the paleness of her cheeks. Her hair hung lifeless, uncombed and uncared for. Her face wasn't covered in a heavy layer of paints as it had been before, revealing her natural beauty. My heart broke at seeing her like this. She didn't look well.
"Rune?"
Her lips moved along with the words, not like in the dream.
"You can try and touch his chest, but stay clear of his hands and head. He's bitten and scratched people before."
Had I? I didn't remember. It didn't matter. All that mattered was not waking up completely from this dream in which Laurel was here with me. She put her hand on my chest, right above my heart. Her touch felt so real. Like an actual weight on my chest.
It had to be a dream, though. Laurel was crying and real Laurel didn't cry unless her foot was broken. She was a strong female who wouldn't cry over silly things like seeing her mate secured to a bed. She wouldn't cry, would she?
"I am so sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have left."
But she didn't leave. She was taken. By the people who now kept me locked up. I had to fight. Had to defeat them all.
I fought against the restraints again. The straps creaked at the pressure.
"Time to go," the other person said. A male. That enraged me only further.
"No. What did Steff do?"
She sounded so real. So beautiful. And so sad.
"She kissed me. But he's too far gone. A few days ago, it may have been enough to pull him back from the brink, but not now."
"Then maybe I'll have to do more than just kiss him."
It was hard to focus on their conversation. Why was someone speaking to Dream-Laurel? How was anyone else able to see her? I growled. She was mine. She should be invisible to anyone but me.
Her hand drew gentle circles on my chest. "Hush. Everything will be alright. I'll fix you."
I dimly noticed the other person moving out of my field of vision. Did he leave the room? I hoped so. I wanted to be alone with my dream, savouring it for as long as I could make it last.
"You're going to be fine," Dream-Laurel whispered, now close to my ear. I turned my head to look at her. She smiled at me, but there was too much sadness in her smile. I wanted to wipe all the sadness away, along with her tears.
"If you need to, you can bite me," she breathed, before pressing her lips against mine.