29. Bad Habits

'Worship, he, the dark. He, the disciple of the serpent of old, wields black magic - his grimy sword -against everything white.' - Bloodsongs.

~

(Art)

The next morning, in a totally unusual way for him, Art woke up feeling languid, relaxed and happy.

He was very happy for the first time in his life. His magic sparked alive, just like his mood as he whistled a tune under his breath. He pulled his blanket off and got down from his bed.

The smile in his lips was big and stupid, but he didn't mind it. He could still taste Aurora's soft lips in his and the tingle was instantaneous. It was mortifying that she affected him so much, but he loved it, too.

The dream was - wow, something else. For so long, when he slept and when he dreamed, it was only nightmares. Bad, heart wrenching scenes and death and evil. But today, okay, it was a little more than a dream. It was hot, sensual and x-rated, but whatever, he wasn't looking the gift-dream in the teeth.

He remembered the dream with a smile. It