I HELD MY breath as I uncorked the glass bottle and handed it over to the man in front of me. His opinion of me was hardly flattering enough as it was —and he could conclude that I was insane after this.

It was evident that he had never taken a dream before, because his nose wrinkled in anticipation of an odour as he sniffed at the mouth of the bottle. Dreams did not actually smell or taste of anything. I still saw uncertainty in his eyes as he then lifted it to his lips, and took a long, even sip. I braced myself for the worst.

His eyes closed.

Not many customers took dreams while they were awake. And this one did not have a choice. I supposed that it looked like me when I was dreaming; the body immaculately still while the eyes moved rapidly back and forth beneath the eyelids.

I watched him dream with the same stillness; afraid that if I flinched even an inch it would upset some sort of balance in the universes —and my mind.

Again, that question prodded me. What was he to me? And in addition, what was I to him?

That dream could have been wistful, and not a vision. I could have seen what I might have desired —a relationship of some kind, that was horridly taboo and full of danger —and not some peer into the future.

What if...this was the worst thing I could have done? To have him know that a complete stranger had dreamt of him so intimately as though they knew him?

I swallowed with some difficulty. He would be repulsed —or at least he should be. I could not imagine how I was going to live with myself after he opened his eyes and we had to speak.

Awkward would not even begin to describe it.

Not wishing to appear the fool, I began to go through appropriate responses to anything he might say.

Dreams do not really mean that much, I assure you. Please think nothing of it.

You must remind me of someone I once knew.

Perhaps we have seen each other passing in the street before —the brain likes to recall memories from the most random times.

I decided that these would suffice. I would not deny his presence in it, but I would not make too much of a big deal of the circumstances either.

Hopefully they would smooth things over.

I sighed and looked up at the human's face.

My heart stalled yet again.

I could not deny this either: I was attracted to him. In the way a human was to another. In an embarrassingly carnal way, granted, but it was deeper than just his outward appearance —though the handsomeness did not hurt —because I felt a pull between our very souls; if we even possessed such things.

My whole being seemed to yearn for his; to submit to his; to want to claim his. Mine.

I wanted to make him mine.

His chiselled features then scrunched slightly, in a way of a reaction. Though his expression ( even if it had normally been expressive ) gave away nothing; no indication of anger or disgust or shock.

I found myself biting my lip hard enough to draw pain and string, before I dared inhale as Georgia came to stand beside me, and announced her presence with a nudge. She then eyed the half-empty bottle.

"You gave him...your dream?" she hissed.

I had to remind myself that I had never disclosed to her the details of the dream —or that the customer before us had been within it.

I only managed a nod; unable to voice it.

Her curiosity however, did not diminish, as she then started asking, "Why would you —"

She was cut off by my own gasp. The human man suddenly flung his arm out in my direction and grabbed my forearm. Then his eyes opened.

The dark brown pierced right through me, as though I were bare to him. There was that soft danger again, enticing me. He had seen it —had seen us. He had seen his hand caressing my cheek, and felt my traitorous desire to have him press his lips to mine.

To make me his.

I flushed again at the thought. Yet I could not decipher what he thought of it. His grip was rather a desperate one, though. Like I would disappear if he let go.

Georgia looked between us, her eyes wide.

The man then roughly pulled me towards him. Before I could get any ideas, his pupils rapidly constricted with the opposite feeling of affection.

I opened my mouth to begin spewing out my rehearsed responses, but he beat me to the first words.

"You," he rasped. "...You're my destiny."

Though the declaration was ripping and vaguely romantic, there was no mistaking the hardness and vacancy in it. He did not mean it in the way that Fate chose mates —this was merely a reminder of my place.

A conduit. A tool.

That for which he was truly searching —it was not me.

Despite realising that, all that came out of my mouth was an unintelligent, "What?"

His certainty faltered for a second, before he nodded determinedly. "I was told that I needed to accept my destiny before I would be granted rest. And you are the one who will help me fulfil that," he elaborated. "I am sure of it. Why else would you dream about me?"

I could think of a million reasons.

Most of them inappropriate.

I dithered, but wisely kept the retort to myself. Instead, I feigned scepticism. "What makes you so sure that this is a call from destiny?" I questioned. "That you and I are tied? What if this is all some trick? I barely have control of my powers, mind you."

"Destiny brings those together who need to be together," he stated rather ominously. "And that dream, reveals a lot about the two people in it."

I tensed. "It could be someone else," I suggested with absolutely no forethought.

"You know as well as I do that their identities are no mystery," he then said in a low voice; that was rich and smooth like velvet.

I was not so foolish as to keep denying that. I had gotten away with it once —I could not use that excuse again. And that left nothing else to say.

"...If you are correct," I said carefully, "then what does that mean —the things they said. Do you know what you —the man meant?"

Thankfully he seemed to know to what I was referring. He glanced at the floor and walls, and shuffled on his feet; the bland dark grey of his clothes stretching and highlighting the subtle movements.

"Admittedly I do not," he grunted. "But perhaps you can decipher a meaning yourself some day."

You will know the answers to your questions when and after we meet.

I had to uncover those answers. Which meant that I had my own quest on which to embark, on top of this human's —whatever it would entail.

"...Very well," I clipped. "As long as you do not mind my fluctuating magic as I learn to tame it."

"I doubt that it's of consequence," he grunted. "We don't have to make this anymore complicated than it is. We search for a cure, and I get to sleep. Everything else..." he trailed off, his gaze flickering upwards to mine. I stilled, quite thrown off. Why were his eyes so intense? "...Everything else has to do with the fact that you have a connection to me," he finished.

What a horrible, promising order of words.

Georgia raised her brows and whistled, before steering towards the back room. If she knew what was good for her, she would stay there for the time being.

I frowned, glancing downwards at the man's hand that still gripped my arm. He dared to keep it there even after my subtle command for him to let go.

"Outside," I quipped. "Now."

I walked out from the behind the counter and dragged him along since he seemed intent on keeping a hold on me. Once we were on the pavement we stared each other down, unrestricted by etiquette.

"I know what you saw," I began. "Did you feel anything along with it?"

He glanced across the road at the desolate crumbling buildings. "Yes."

"And...what do you think?" I asked, thankfully without a tremble in my voice.

He paused for a worryingly long length of time.

Had he possibly thought about it civilly? Without the intention to mock me? I relaxed a bit.

"...I don't know you, okay?" he eventually said flatly. "We're no better than strangers —but who I saw...who we saw," he amended, "in that dream; those two know each other. On whatever level either of us believes. I can't blame you for a dream you didn't mean to have."

His gaze met mine, and I could have sworn that there was a sadness and understanding within it.

"I...feel the need to get it out of the way," I then blurted, ruining the moment entirely. "You are very attractive. So much so, that it distracts me."

The human actually started at that confession —and the rippling echo of movement registered on the part of my skin that touched his.

"That much I gathered," he said firmly, no longer looking me in the eye. "I felt your want when I...when the man in the dream, touched you."

My cheeks were instantaneously aflame at his vague and consequently suggestive wording.

"I mean, touched your cheek. Forgive my phrasing," he corrected, having noted my reaction.

I turned my head to the side.

He then went on, "You are quite beautiful."

I shot him an icy look. "You do not need to return my compliment out of obligation."

"I'm not," he clipped. "I'm stating a fact."

My skin prickled. I would like to say that it meant nothing to me to hear that compliment —unfortunately Kynes' words ran so deep that I could not quite stomach it. Sheepish, I glanced away yet again.

Was this what humans called 'flirting'? My experience was limited to books and sad one-sided and unrequited encounters ( on their part, not mine ) in the past years. This felt different.

This felt somewhat mutual.

"I do not know why I had that dream, I can assure you," I then said, daring to turn and meet the man's gaze again. "But it happened. And it cannot be taken back. We know each other —somehow. Or we will. And we will know more as we go on. There is something about you that has everything to do with me."

He towered over me after striding in to close a great deal of distance. The air disappeared in my collapsing lungs. His brown eyes smouldered in the sparse sunlight. "Does it frighten you?" he asked.

Beyond belief, I itched to say.

"Not one bit," I lied through my teeth instead.

It was imperative to show that I would not be overshadowed or intimidated by him. I was the one who was in charge —I was his destiny.

Or rather, the key to unlocking it.

He needed me, at least for the time being; and I would rather die than yield to his every whim.

And there, in that defiance, he threw back amusement.

One of his brows then arched. "Do you really need further reason to trust my intentions?" he asked.

"That would be satisfactory, yes."

"Then come with me. I wish to show you something."