“Even if I hadn’t, I’d want to protect you,” he added. “Where I’m from, females are rare. A precious treasure. Harming one is a crime.” He adjusted Nola against his chest, freeing one of his hands, wiped the blood from his face and pressed his fingers against the diamonds embedded in his shoulder.

What was he doing? “Wh-what did I do in your dreams?”

“That, I won’t tell you.”

Between one step and the next, they exited the wasteland and entered a sunlit jungle. As she scanned their new surroundings, warmth poured over her, as cozy as a fur blanket. Ripples flowed over the surface of a crystal clear pond. A patch of wildflowers perfumed the air with sugary sweetness, teasing her nostrils. Bees buzzed past, and birds sang. Fruit and nut trees swayed in a gentle breeze, and her mouth watered. Coconuts. Bananas. Pecans. Gimme!

“Where are we?” And how did she continue to go from one season to another in a matter of seconds?

“My home. While I’m on Terra, at least.”

“Terra,” she echoed.

Nod. “Every world and realm has multiple dimensions and planes, hidden pockets of land inaccessible by traditional means. I found and claimed this one centuries ago.”

“Multiple dimensions? Planes? World and realm. There’s a difference?” Had he used the word centuries?

After everything she’d witnessed, everything she’d experienced... Keep an open mind.

“Planes are stacked, one on top of the other, but they do not intersect,” he said, setting her on her feet. “Dimensions exist within a world, and are accessible through some sort of doorway. Worlds are the planets as a whole, and realms are kingdoms within the world.”

Her knees buckled, unable to hold her weight. Zion caught her before she hit the ground. He carried her to a bed of moss, where he gently laid her on her back.

Too vulnerable! She flattened her palms on his chest and pushed. When he refused to budge, she started punching. Her knuckles brushed the hilt of a dagger, and she froze. Her instructor’s third tip? If you find a weapon, use it.

But...stab Zion? Kill him?

He gripped the hem of her shirt, as if he intended to rip the garment from her body, and Nola thought, Yes. Kill him. Though she trembled, she yanked the dagger free of its sheath and thrust the blade into his gut.

The ease with which the metal cut through flesh and muscle sickened her. What have I done?

Frowning, he plucked the weapon from his intestines. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so she had an unobstructed view as blood gushed from the wound.

She braced, expecting a swift and violent retaliation.

He merely sheathed the blade and said, “I only meant to check you for injuries, little dreki. Are you all right?”