Wild Men of Alaska 03 - Dreamweaver

enslaving souls, would there be proof?
    Probably just a lot of sexually satisfied women who didn’t giv e a flip if they were enslaved.
    That’s it. She had to work tomorrow. Enough was enough.
    She readied for bed, washing her face, brushing her teeth, and donning a UAF sweatshirt, knee socks, and drawstring sweats that she double knotted around her waist.
    There, let’s see if an astral spirit can untie knots.
    After adjusting the thermostat to a more comfortable level, she headed to bed.
    Before slipping under the covers, she glanced out the window and caught her breath.
    The snow glistened with neon greens, electric blues, and hints of violet reflected from an unearthly sky as wave after wave danced across the firmament.
    Maybe she should make another pot of coffee.
    No. This was crazy. The Northern Lights did look otherworldly. Magical even, chilling with their dramatic display. She’d seen it all before. Though the last few weeks had been the most impressive of her twenty-five years. Still, enough. Sleep called. She was probably too exhausted to engage in anything anyway, even if her dream lover did visit.
    And if he did, it was about t ime she learned the guy’s name.
    ***
    Finally .
    Lucky watched as Gemma adjusted the covers under her chin. He’d been here all night, actually been able to follow her throughout most of her day with the powerful solar flares from the sun storm.
    The need to get close to her, smell that combination of sweet-spiciness laced with hints of dark coffee was making him crazy. He’d seen her guzzle back cup after cup and was hungry to see how she’d taste.
    “Come on, Gemma. Go to sleep.” The sooner she entered the REM cycle, the sooner he could take a sample and find out.
    Suddenly she sat up in bed and looked around. Her wide and searching eyes were the color of an arctic night with sparks of emeralds and sapphires shining within their depths.
    He froze on instinct even though he knew she couldn’t see him. But had she heard him? That was the first time he’d spoken out loud today.
    “Gemma?”
    “Who’s there?”
    Holy shit!
    Gemma scrambled out of bed, grabbing the heavy book on the side table. The light clicked on, and he almost laughed at the sight. She looked like a stirred up polar bear wearing all those layers.
    He’d gotten her naked before. He had no doubt he would again. But maybe he ought to keep his mouth shut. A spooked woman was not a relaxed one. And he needed her relaxed.
    Gemma searched the room, peeking around the closet door and then checking the bathroom. She exchanged the book for a hockey stick that she had standing guard in the corner and headed for the rest of the house.
    Great. She wasn’t going to sleep any time soon if she was scared off her ass.
    He always was his own worst enemy.
    Lucky admired Gemma from behind as she methodically searched each room in the small clapboard house, double-checked that all the doors and windows were locked and then headed back to bed, grumbling under her breath, “I am not going crazy.”
    He stifled a chuckle. The woman was delightful. Cute, yet sexy in that ruffled up kitten sort of way. The kind he wanted to cuddle with but knew at any moment the claws might come out. He kept silent this time as she snuggled back into bed. She left the bathroom light on, and it gave a soft glow into the bedroom, bathing the bed with a copper cast, highlighting her skin and hair with gold dust.
    He’d always been attracted to shiny things.
    She expressed a loud sigh and settled deeper under the covers. He advanced onto the bed, freezing again when her head came up, and she swept the room.
    “Too much caffeine,” she muttered. “There is nobody here.” But as though to make sure, she took the adjacent pillow and laid it lengthwise, right over him. His non-corporeal body took the smothering of the pillow and rose above it.
    He didn’t dare breathe—didn’t really matter if he did or not, but he liked going through the motions—for fear that she’d sense more of him. How was she picking up on his presence?
    Did it have something to do with the Northern Lights or were these visits actually creating a connection?
    God, he hoped it was the latter.
    He needed her. Not just spiritually. She was his ticket back to the physical.
    ***
    Gemma drifted in that place where she wasn’t completely asleep yet couldn’t fully wake up.
    He was here .
    She could feel him ... breathe?
    Spirits didn’t breathe. But then he was