Wild Men of Alaska 03 - Dreamweaver

her head still spinning with the otherworldly implications.
    Tern took the book and read the passage Gemma indicated. She glanced up. “You’re having sex dreams? What a relief. I thought—never mind what I thought.”
    “Geesh, Tern. I’m not even seeing anyone special and you thought I’d—holy balls, just keep reading.”
    Tern followed the passage with her finger. “Astral sex—damn but that’s funny to say—is the theosophical belief, belonging to the ethereal region that is believed to exist at a higher level than the material world. Personal auras are said to have non-corporeal sex with astral playmates.” Tern leaned forward, the book cradled to her chest. “So you have a spiritual playmate.”
    “Be serious for a minute.”
    “I am being serious.” Tern’s Athabascan skin glowed under the harsh fluorescent lights, picking up the auburn strains highlighted in her thick ebony hair. But it was her dark almond eyes looking grave that had Gemma swallowing.
    “Don’t tell me you buy into this?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “Come on, I was counting on you to bring me back to earth.” At Tern’s lift of an eyebrow, Gemma added, “Ground me at least. I need to talk to someone and I can’t tell anyone out there .” Gemma gestured wide with her hand to include all the occupants currently in Chinook Books who believed what the pretty painted cards told them.
    “Your mother probably has more information on the subject than this book.” Tern held up the Dreamology Dictionary.
    “I’ve been trying my whole life to get away from this kind of stuff. Don’t tell me you believe in it?”
    “There is a lot I believe in.” Tern’s tone more than the words had Gemma feeling ashamed as she remembered Tern’s close call with death last summer. “There’s so much we don’t understand,” Tern continued. “It’s arrogant to discount the unexplained.”
    Wow, nice way to put her in her place. “Help explain this to me then. I’m so confused.”
    “Tell me what’s happening.”
    “I’m having the most intense, sexual dreams. It’s like he’s there. I can feel him, smell him, hear him until I open my eyes. Then he’s gone and usually before I... well, you know.”
    Tern’s lips twisted into a smile. “No, I don’t know.”
    “Don’t make me say it.”
    “Yeah, you’re going to need to say it.”
    “ Come on, Tern.”
    “Well, I guess that’s close enough.”
    Gemma felt the blush heat her face.
    “How long has h e been ‘visiting’?” Tern asked.
    “Three weeks as of last night.”
    “Every night?” Those brows of hers arrowed in thought. One brow was split at the apex by a scar giving her a somewhat rakish look for a woman. Very becoming on her and said more than words that she held her own.
    “Except two days ago,” Gemma admitted, though leaving out how despondent she’d felt when her dream m an hadn’t put in an appearance.
    “So you have been having astral sex—damn, I love that phrase—for three weeks and you haven’t orgasmed?”
    Gemma’s blush flamed, and she couldn’t respond.
    “You might have to help yourself out for your own peace of mind.”
    “Forget all that. How do I get rid of him?”
    “Your astral partner?”
    “Will you quit saying that word?”
    “Nope.” Tern shook her head and laughed. This time it was full-bodied, and Gemma couldn’t help being pulled into the magic of the melodious sound.
    “Oh my hell, what am I going to do?”
    “Figure out why he’s sought you out and vice versa.”
    “Me? I haven’t sought him out. How would I even go about doing something like that?”
    “Your subconscious has. Maybe you need to have a talk with yourself and figure out what is missing in your life that you’re seeking in the astral plane.”
    “Well, the obvious. I must be sexually frustrated.”
    “Are you?”
    “I didn’t think I was until he started visiting me every night.”
    “Wait, you said he didn’t visit two days ago. That was Sunday. So why not Sunday? What was happening that was different that night?”
    “Nothing really. The bookstore was closed, so I took care of errands and cleaned the house. I did meet up with Cub and had dinner.”
    “Oooh, how did that go?”
    “Eh. He’s good looking, that’s for sure.” Jacob “Cub” Iverson resembled a Norse God. Cool blond looks with ice blue eyes and muscles that bore witness to his ancestors throwing tree trunks. She should be climbing all over him from the moment