Aveline could have relaxed in the arms of this dream-version of Theron, because the Theron of her dreams was hers. Hers alone.

She slowly slid her arms around his neck and leaned in, smiling to herself as if she had all the time in the world. Even in a dream, he felt warm, solid, and familiar... just the same. And his scent, that deep fragrance of fine wood and something unmistakably his, wrapped around her like a secret she had never stopped wanting to keep.

Why would she need the real Theron, when she had this one?

"My Theron..." she murmured, her heart fluttering as she pressed her lips to his.

His mouth was just as soft as she remembered.

A small laugh escaped her when she realized that everything about this Theron felt exactly as it should. Since she still believed she was dreaming, she no longer contented herself with leaning against him. She shifted onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation, and cupped his face in both hands as though she were memorizing him all over again.

Then she kissed him the way Theron used to kiss her.

Tentatively at first. Nibbling, testing, trying to uncover the secret of that maddening ease with which he had once always taken her breath away. How had he done it so effortlessly? How had he made the simplest kiss feel like surrender?

Aveline, stubborn even in sleep, tried to discover the answer for herself.

Meanwhile, Theron watched her with a faint, helpless smile. He had slept well with her safe in his arms, without dreams and without restlessness, until her lips met his in the early morning stillness. At first, it did not feel like a kiss at all, but rather as though she were trying to bite her way through his mouth and devour him whole.

He waited, amused, until she shifted again. He thought his little hare hated him, but now... seeing her like this... he knew she didn’t hate him. She was just angry at him. Something released deeper in his soul. He needed to get her back.

But then... she straddled him. And... something in him gave way.

That position was dangerous. Unforgivable, even.

He slid one hand around her waist and the other to the back of her neck, and when he kissed her back, it was no longer gentle teasing. It was a real kiss—deep, lingering, practiced on her alone, learned from every stolen moment they had ever shared.

He knew exactly where to hold her, exactly when to pull back just enough for her to breathe before drawing her in again.

Her soft little sounds tangled with his breath. The morning air was still cool against their skin, but between them there was only heat; their hot breath, the touches, and the quiet, escalating hunger of two people far too familiar with wanting. Every kiss seemed to deepen the ache of the next, every exhale to blur the line between dream and waking.

It felt perfect. Infuriatingly, terribly perfect.

And then her body moved against his in one sudden, unthinking motion... teasing his little guy down there.

He should have stopped her.

He knew it the moment her weight settled over him, the moment her hands cupped his face with that soft, unguarded certainty. This was a mistake. A dangerous one. She thought she was dreaming.

He should have pulled away.

But her lips brushed his again, clumsily...and something in him snapped.

He kissed her back.

Not gently this time.

His mouth moved over hers with a quiet certainty that stole the air from her lungs, turning her tentative curiosity into something deeper, something that answered him without knowing how. His fingers slid to the back of her neck, holding her there, leaving no room for retreat.

Aveline softened instantly.

That was all it took. The smallest yielding...The faintest sound against his lips.

And whatever restraint he had left shattered. He shifted, slow at first, as if testing whether she would resist.

She didn’t.

So he moved faster.

In one smooth motion, he turned them, guiding her down against the rough curve of the tree root, his body following hers before she could even catch her breath. The world tilted, leaves and sky blurring behind him as he braced himself over her, caging her in without quite touching—

until he did.

His hand slid along her thigh, deliberate now.

Claiming.

His mouth found hers again, deeper this time, hungrier, as though he had already crossed the line and saw no reason to pretend otherwise.

Aveline melted into it, surrendering without thought.

It was only when his tongue slipped past her lips, when the kiss deepened into something far more intimate, and when she felt his hand slide higher along her bare thigh, that her eyes fluttered open.

The dream felt... too real.

Her breath caught.

It was not a dream!

His lips had already wandered from her mouth, trailing along her jaw, her neck, lingering in places that made her body tense and soften all at once. His hand that was far too real, rested against the inside of her thigh.

And her heart... Her heart was racing.

He was here.

Theron was here.

She had thought he had left.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice unsteady as she pressed her palm against his chest, trying to create space that her body clearly did not want.

Heat spread through her, dangerous and disorienting. Every nerve felt awake, every inch of her far too aware of him. It confused her—how easily she leaned into him, how little resistance her body offered.

She wouldn’t have minded.

That was the worst part.

But hadn’t they fought last night?

Theron exhaled slowly, his breath warm against the hollow of her collarbone, drifting lower in a way that made her pulse stutter.

"Aveline..." he murmured, her name soft, almost reluctant.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t want to.

Not when he had learned that his little hare didn’t hate him.

Every instinct urged him forward, to close whatever distance remained, to finish what she had unknowingly started. His lips brushed along her exposed neck, then her earlobe, unhurried, as though he could draw this moment out forever.

Aveline’s head tipped back before she could stop herself, her eyes fluttering shut again as sensation overtook reason. For a fleeting second, she almost let it happen—almost gave in completely, just to quiet the restless heat building inside her.

But then... There was movement... Behind him.

Her eyes snapped open.

"Hamilton, NO—!"

She shoved Theron hard.

He went down face-first against the tree root with a dull thud.

Aveline scrambled up, heart still racing, as the beligerant, pudgy creature barreled forward, its heavy body trembling with fury, smoke already curling from its nostrils.

"No—stop!" she snapped, grabbing Hamilton before it could launch itself at Theron.

Hamilton wriggled angrily, letting out an indignant snort, clearly intent on reducing him to ash.

"Hamilton!" Aveline’s voice sharpened. "Heel."

The little beast huffed, smoke puffing out as it glared past her, still trying to push forward.

"You do not hurt Theron," she said firmly.

Hamilton turned its face away with exaggerated offense, as if deeply wronged by the command. His wings drooped so low, and even his tail lowered down, discontent.

"You will not hurt Theron," she repeated, more quietly this time, her gaze steady as she pointed at it, holding its attention until it finally relented.

Reluctantly.

Sulking.

Behind her, Theron groaned and pushed himself up, rubbing his nose with a wince.

It was bleeding.

He stared at the blood on his fingers, then at Aveline, the woman, who had started everything, and now left him bleeding. And then he looked at the ridiculous creature that had just nearly incinerated him...

What, exactly, was he supposed to do with her?

He almost let himself pout.

Almost.

But then he watched her, standing there, shielding him, fiercely scolding that absurd little monster on his behalf...and the irritation dulled, replaced by something far more complicated.

So he swallowed it down.

Then Aveline turned to look at Theron. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

Her eyes held no softness he saw earlier, and Theron’s heart skipped a beat.