3-Dreams

Kimarhi

Life as Queen has its simple joys. I retired for a hot bath after the spar. I strip out of my dirty clothes and slide into the boiling bath. I massage my body, getting to the aching muscles. I growl, letting the day steam off.

Feeling heavy from the heat, I start to relax. Although bruised a bit, it’s a good pain. Shifters heal faster than humans, but it’s not instantaneous. Depending on the wound, you may need help from a healer to quicken the process. My minor injuries would be gone by this evening or in the morning.

I have a decent bruise on my shoulder from the wall, and my ankle hurts from laying a hit wrong. I’ll have to work on that double-header kick. There’s a knot from head-butting someone, and my knuckles are in bad shape. All that aside, I love feeling the battle after. The pain of victory is always sweet. The only other hurt that’s better is those after-sex aches.

Laying back again, my mind drifts to fantasies of pleasure. Taking my hand to my core, I start rubbing my clit, rolling it between two fingers. With my other hand, I insert two, curl them up, and vigorously masturbate. My vivid imagination takes over when Magnus pops into my head, fueling my desires.

His large hard body runs towards me in the woods, but instead of attacking to spar, he pulls me into an embrace. We kiss deeply and frantically. Magnus licks and kiss my neck. Lifting me, I wrap my legs around his waist, and he begins fucking me against a tree. Gripping my thigh with his hand, the other supporting my back. He rams me deep and hard. Arcing my back and tightening my legs, I growl and force us to the ground. Taking over, I grind on him, awaiting my release.

My hands are working up into a frenzy at my core. Making me spasm in the water. I orgasm with a purring hum turn growl. Yep, I needed that, so maybe I want to fuck him.

Cleaning myself with soap, I rinse and get out. While the water drains, I dry off and dress in my purple silk robe heading to my closet.

Looking in the mirror, this is as good as it gets. I put on simple undies and a strapless bra. But why bother? My boobs seem small enough not to need one, a c cup, maybe.

I have an athletic build tone, but I’m not bulky. My thick thighs lead to a plump behind that looks great in anything. I picked black capris and a loose purple shirt that laid off the shoulder, giving excellent skin exposure.

My shoulder-length wavy hair goes up in a lion’s head bun cage held in place by two chopsticks with dangling dahlias on the ends. I finish the look in simple strappy sandals. Satisfied with my appearance, I make my way to the dining hall.

I worked up quite an appetite today and need more of Anya’s home-style cooking. Thankfully no one is around to hear my stomach rumble this time. On my stroll, I admire the clan house. It’s already being decorated for the summit.

The lavish tapestries are being hung in the halls. Our clan emblem is a white dahlia with silhouetted lions running along a pedal on a purple banner. A full moon with three silver crescent moons surrounding it on a black flag stands for the Wolf’s Clan.

A snake coiled across itself twice like an infinity-only vertical on a green banner for the Reptiles. The Fliers emblem, a feathered wing fanned out on a blue flag, acting as the sky. Finally, The Nomad’s a red banner with a sailing ship surrounded by all the points of a compass. Safe for true north, signifying they belong not to one but all.

Entering the dining hall, everyone bows as they see me. I nod while I go in response, as a Queen should do. It smells delightful as the aroma of food wafts to my nose. Sir Tavers is still here having dinner alone. I decided to sit with him rather than eat by myself.

“Queen Kimarhi, lovely to see you for dinner,” He says as I sit beside him.

He’s always a comfort to be around, like Anya and Theo. There is a warmth to their presence and touch; I can’t go without it most days.

“Thank you, Sir Tavers. Anya wouldn’t like it if I skipped another meal.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Tavers agrees with a smile.

My chair is facing the grand hall. I gaze over the crowd and see everyone is having a wonderful evening. Children giggle while having food fights, and their parents try and keep them quiet. Theo even made it to dinner and is tickling one of his kids for not eating their veggies.

I joyfully grin at my clan while a server brings a delicious-looking plate of food and wine, precisely what I need. Gulping it down first, he happily pours me another before leaving.

“My Queen, have you given any thought to your escort?” Tavers sure is persistent, so I must tease him.

“I wouldn’t have to pick anyone if you would just take me, Sir Tavers. You ask every day as is?” smiling at him, I drink my wine.

“Lovely of you to say, My Queen, but that is a job for a younger, more capable man. I fear I can’t keep up with a beauty like you,” he grins, making me blush at his compliment.

“Well, then, I guess the torture goes to Theo,” I say smugly, nodding at his table.

“I see. What did he do this time?” Tavers looks at Theo with a turned-up brow.

“Ditching council and changing the training schedule again,” I say very matter of fact.

“How do you put up with him as a friend, let alone your second?” Tavers smiles at his jab at Theo.

Sir tavers knows our history, and I know he means no disrespect. But he’s also very stern with prank behavior and shirking responsibilities.

“I just kick his ass on the field and hope his dear Helena doesn’t get too mad,” I say with a giggle.

“Yet he still hasn’t learned. At least she is a skilled doctor,” Tavers says, shaking his head and laughing.

“You can say that again,” I point over to them with their family, “The poor doc has her hands full with him and all those kids.”

Theo is happily the father of five cubs with his fated Doctor Helena. She’s our clan physician now but was also one in the human world. She survived a plane crash into the Archipelago six years ago, right after my parents died.

We saved most, getting them to rafts and returning them to the sea for rescue. However, this brave human doctor stays because she found her Theo. It was very romantic watching them work to help everyone that day. They have been inseparable since.

“They have a beautiful family that makes me jealous sometimes,” I whisper, not meaning to say it.

I look back at Sir Tavers. He smiles tightly at my comment. He’s staying quiet because Theo comes over with one of his boys. He undoubtedly heard me talking about them and is coming to say good night before heading out.

“My Queen, Helena, agreed about the summit but says she wants me home no later than eight o’clock,” Theo finishes with a red face.

I know he’s lying, Tavers, too, and we laugh hysterically at Theo. His son giggles alongside us, asking, “Why are we being silly to his daddy?”

“They think daddy said something funny, but it’s really what mommy said,” Theo tells his son in a sing-song voice.

“I bet she didn’t say anything of the sort,” I chuckle to Tavers while Theo leaves with a pout.

“More wine, my Queen,” Tavers offers.

I nod, still laughing, and he refills my cup. This vino smells different. Rich and thick with a very floral bouquet. This must be his secret blend. I assume the faint smell of blood is from the harvest.

Two glasses in, from the other, what do I care, gulping it down, and he gives me another. I’m feeling that fuzzy feeling now. When did I become a lightweight after a few drinks?

Sir Tavers and I finished eating and had two more glasses of wine. He escorts me through the hall and excuses himself for the evening, and I make my way through the clan house alone.

“Whee, walking is fun when you’re tipsy,” I say, talking to no one now.

I swear I’m never this drunk after a few glasses, but my head is dizzy, and my vision is blurred. My feet feel like I’m wearing cement shoes, and my knees are not working. I don’t feel nauseous yet, so that’s a plus.

“The halls are too freaking long, and where the hell is my room?” I thought, or did I say that part aloud?

Me and my drunken stupor, I’m not making a good impression. A sentry warrior notices me but tries not to see me simultaneously. I straighten up but fall to the floor, unable to feel my legs.

“Great,” I say aloud. I am sure this time.

Why do I feel so intoxicated? The warrior comes over to me. Silent and stern, he helps me to my feet. I muster up my best impersonation of a sober person.

“Speak not - help room,” I stammer, thinking I missed some words.

The warrior nods, delivering me to my room not far away. Opening the door for me, he waits as I stumble inside, hitting the ground again. He scoops me in his strong arms, carrying me to the bed.

I’m immensely grateful, and he does feel good holding me close, but I can tell he’s fated. The warrior smells like her, and that’s too bad. Or not, he could have his love join, and we can all have fun. My mind is peeking from the naughty enticement as he places me on the mattress.

I’m about to pull him on top of me, but I control myself somehow. What is wrong with me? I need to stop these sexy thoughts before I genuinely act on them. I quickly plop onto my pillow and close my eyes, pretending to sleep and mumbling, “Night.”

“Good night, my Queen,” the sentry warrior leaves, unaware of my sexy thoughts.

Alone in my dark room, I feel warm and start stripping out my constricting clothes. They suddenly feel like sandpaper on my skin. I’m so freaking hot, I assume from the spirits, struggling out of my pants and underwear, naked at last.

I stumbled to the window, throwing it open. I sigh in relief, letting the cool night air soothe me. Once I can focus, it’s a beautiful night. The full moon is low in the sky and looks close enough to touch. The air smells like flowers; my body shivers when the breeze tickles my skin.

‘I sleep,’ I mumble through the pride link at Theo. He links back a chuckle, and I hop into bed finally.

The silk sheets are chilly to my bare flesh but will warm quickly. I feel my body relax, pulling the covers up to my chest. I turn on my side, and sleep takes me quickly. It isn’t long before a sense of freedom rushes over me as I drift into a dream-like haze.

I can feel myself walking and the ground damp beneath my feet—a tacky feeling between my toes, squishy, cold, and moist. Wet from the rain, I can smell petrichor. Sniffing the air more, sharp smells kick in. The scent of heavy earth and rain is so wonderful. Yet it mingles together with blood. Danger.

Suddenly alert, I begin to move. I strain to listen, feeling my ears twitch and perk up. But still, nothing to see, only hearing growls and grunts of battle, or is it sex? I effortlessly make my way toward the sounds faster now.

Images of trees begin to form as only a few pigments are visible; blue, yellow, and gray. How odd! I now realize the strange vision indicates shifted form—a bright and primal aura outlines everything in an eery glow.

In an open wooded area. The streams of color move quickly as I sniff out the blood. The moon helps to illuminate the way, as though I can see perfectly in the dark. I scan the brush but catch nothing.

I’m about to move on when I hear footsteps too late. Feeling a sudden impact on my left side makes me stumble but not fall over. I rebound quickly, snarling with my jaws, and bite into my attacker.

I vigorously rip into a thick coat with my canines, breaking through to the flesh. Blood drips along my teeth and coats the ground. I taste copper and salt filling my mouth and feel myself grin in satisfaction.

Applying more pressure, I hear a snap and know I’ve won. Dropping the body, it’s a lusterless gray wolf now stained with fresh blood. I watch as it shifts back to a man as he dies. A significant bite mark is visible on his neck, the death blow.

This is all very odd. Why would I attack my wolves? This must be the shadow clan. I continue to run and eventually join a much larger battle. A small war rages by a river that leads to a waterfall. It’s unlike anything I have seen. Again this is odd.

I take on two more wolves, killing one but rendering the other unconscious, for interrogation. Scanning the area, it’s different, almost foreign. I must not have explored this far before, but that’s impossible. I have lived here my whole life. The battle is over, and we are victorious.

I look over to the others and notice very few lions. How odd; where’s Theo? I’m about to pride-link him when I feel myself going to the river.

I drink its sweet life force and rinse my snout, using a paw to clean it. I open my eyes to see a giant wolf watching in the reflection.

In my mind, I jump back, thinking it’s another attacker. But my form nor the wolf move. I stare into the dark pool of water, knowing that somehow, it is me.

I’m a wolf.

Solid black fur with a golden shimmer under the moonlight’s glow. Exceptionally large and muscular. Bright golden eyes and a lonely white patch along the thigh, near the right hind leg. In the shape of a dahlia flower. How gorgeous.

I have never seen anything like it upon any wolves on my island. Its primary color is white, with faint black and gold droplets decorating the fur pedals—a total contrast to the rest of the stark wolf form.

Before I can bask in the magnificence of the beast, the image quickly fades, allowing another sensation to come flitting into place. The colors shift to more globy muck with spikes of warm tones.

I can now feel even more cold earth beneath my body. It smells of heavy musk and wood. The feeling of slithering along is now clear, as all of me is touching the ground. The sensation makes my stomach grumble, and I realize I’m hungry.

There is heat nearby. A blob of radiating green and yellow comes into view, making me stop. It moves, sensing I’m near, and that’s when I recognize a rodent’s silhouette. I strike forward, sinking my teeth into its swollen body.

I feel a warmth release from my bite. The critter spasms and dies in my jaw, and I curl around it and eat. I swallow it whole, working it down my throat.

The sensations of a digestive process start, and it’s pretty strange. I can feel it moving down my long slender body from the inside. It’s then I realize what form I have taken.

I’m a snake

I continue to slither up a tree and perch, wrapping around a branch. Laying high enough, I can glimpse a large group camping nearby. My tongue stretched out to lick and flick at the air. I can taste a mix of things; the air, trees, and ground. But nothing out of the ordinary, and relax, knowing all is well.

I feel cold and constrict myself more to get warmer. I shift only my head to watch the perimeter while my food digests.

Hours seem to pass, but I never need to reposition my stance in the tree. A sense of loneliness washes over me in the dark. Late-night sentry duty is a solo gig, but at least it’s a beautiful night.

The sun rises, and I see a sizeable heat bloom coming this way. Uncoiling myself off the branch, one loop at a time. I smoothly plop to the ground, unphased by the impact slithering fast on the floor. Over the cold grass, on tops of roots from the trees.

As I go, I bob my head up and down, making my way to a woman’s warm silhouette. I can make out that she is holding clothes for me, and I feel thankful.

The pain begins low and rises fast. Curling my body, my head held high. I shift back into a human. My eyes refocus to normal vision, and I see beautiful blue and gray scales lining my body.

There’s an unusual pattern in the snakeskin near my central chest. A white design speckled blue and gray depicts the dahlia. Only this one is a beautiful scaly mural that disappears just as quickly as I saw it.

Again, the image fades but is quickly replaced in my mind. This time I feel heavy fast winds around me, cold but pleasant. The sweet smell of the air around the trees, but so dull, as if it wasn’t even there.

The clouds shift, and I feel an exhilarating rush. I can see the trees and ground with such keen accuracy—so sharp and piercing. I see movement and pursue, sensing danger.

My arms outstretched are weightless, and my legs don’t seem to be doing not doing anything: a sudden gliding and a whoosh. I feel wings flapping instead of arms. I’m amazed when I dive; they cascade beside me like a cloak.

I’m a bird.

The silky feathers slow the descent to land, my feet touching down. I skid to a stop, noticing the long, sharp talons cutting the ground as I slide. I quickly shift back into human form and am amazed it didn’t hurt. Someone tosses me a simple white medic’s robe, and we run to a tent.

I’m now standing over a man who is in pain. His chest is torn open by long claw marks, bleeding nonstop. The sour smell of nightshade oil tickles my nose.

“Help me, it burns,” he yells.

Without hesitation, I grab the pouch around my neck. I open it over his gaping wound, but it’s empty.

“More calabar bean paste, NOW!” I feel myself yell for the antidote to Nightshade.

It’s quickly supplied by the same person from earlier. The thick brownish paste smells nutty and sweet. I coat my hands to apply them to my patient. Unafraid, I begin rubbing it deep into his wounds.

Mentally I tense up, waiting for the sting of the nightshade oil to hurt me, but there is no pain. How is that possible? I know Nightshade burns all shifters. The wounded warrior screams louder, his pleas a gargled mess gasping for air.

Taking a finger, my long claw extends. I can’t stop myself from slashing the palm of my hand. I quickly apply more paste to help. I flex it open and shut, trickling my blood into the warrior’s wound. I’m shocked when it starts working.

I am a healer too.

The man settles finally as I see the gashes closing very slowly. The low hiss of steam can be heard as the oil is neutralized. Success at last, my hand heals itself from the self-inflicted cut; it’s impressive what healers’ blood can do. This process will leave a scar when healed because of the Nightshade.

“He will be fine. Add more paste in an hour to ensure the poison is fully neutralized. I’m being called to scout and must get back up there.”

Exiting the medic tent, I remove the robe and hang it up. Invigorated to fly, my skin buzzes, and I look to the dreamy night sky. I concentrate on an empty spot between two tall trees. With a running leap, I quickly shift back into a magnificent hawk. I caw to signal that a new filer is in the fray, twirling around in the air and shaking my body.

Red and orange feathers with hints of blue envelop me. I take a moment while in flight to preen my right wing. I see a spotted feather mosaic elegantly flowing like a white dahlia.

Again, the serine image fades. Another falling sensation takes over, but no images come. Just empty blackness, with a soothing voice whispering.

“A summit to bring the secondborn three,

One can sense, and three will then see.”

But soon, a Dahlia blooms with colors so fast I get dizzy. The voice is angelic, saying more, but I can’t make it out. Then there is silence and more falling.

I’m in my room now, still naked lying-in bed, safe. Jolting awake, my body is sore and heavy. Also clammy from sweat, like I had just done all those things. I'm breathing rapidly with the taste and smell of blood still on my senses.

The dream fades to nothing, and I can barely remember why I woke. The sudden wretch of my stomach makes me jump out of bed. I run to the bathroom and barely make it to the sink. I throw up bile and dry heave for a minute before composing myself.

Once settled, I wash my face, brush my teeth, and drink water. I splash some on my body, neck, heart, and thighs. Drying off, I look outside, seeing it’s still dark, and go back to bed with a groan.

“What the hell was that about? I never throw up. Must have been the alcohol,” I mumble, forgetting about the dream completely, and fall asleep.