Page 76 of Dreamscape Therapies

The warmth spreading through my chest is almost enough to make me forget the rest of what I need to say.

"But..."

His smile fades slightly.

"We have to do this the right way." I take a breath, forcing myself to stay firm. "I can't be romantically involved with a client, no matter how much the fates might want us to be."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying we need to resolve your case first."

His expression tightens, but he listens.

"We talk to the weaver, Dany. We find out whether your ex is actually manipulating her. We gather whatever evidence we can and give it to the police. And when you can finally sleep through the night without worrying about your dreamworld unraveling around you, then we can be together."

I pause.

"How does that sound?"

For a long moment, he says nothing. He stares down into his coffee, turning the mug slowly between his hands.

"I don't think I can do that."

My stomach drops.

"What?"

"I don't think I can treat you like just my therapist anymore." He finally looks up, and there's something painfully honest in his eyes. "I want everything with you too, and I don't think I can pretend I'm okay with waiting indefinitely."

He exhales slowly.

"I know logically that what you're saying is right. I do. But it feels wrong. We're mates. The fates decided that. Why should we have to wait?"

Because I have a code of ethics.

Because I could lose my license.

Because this is exactly the kind of boundary violation that ruins careers.

And yet, looking at him, I can feel every one of those carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble.

"Jagiya, I can't. Not yet." Even to my own ears, the words sound weaker than they should. "We need to resolve your nightmares before I can feel comfortable being with you outside the dream world."

He studies me for a moment, then his mouth curves into a determined smile.

"Then I guess we'd better get this figured out today."

He drains the rest of his coffee and stands.

"So I can sleep in your bed tonight."

I stare after him as he carries his mug to the sink, moving with the easy confidence of someone who has already decided exactly how this story is going to end.

He probably has.

I'm still sitting at the table, mentally reciting professional ethics guidelines while every other part of me is screaming that I should forget the rules and simply claim him right here.

Some therapist I am.