The Alchemist of Broken Dreams by Sienna Rose Blackwell 67

Chapter 67 

DYLAN 

I found myself staring at the same faceless man standing at the foot of the bed. 

The scene was painfully familiar. The dim light. The stillness in the air. The way my chest tightened before anything even happened. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stood there like he belonged in every corner of my subconscious. 

The same dream. 

The same man without a face. 

The same unsettling pull. 

“This again?” I whispered, my voice echoing softly, as if the room itself was mocking me. 

I tried to look closer, tried to force the blur to clear, but no matter how hard I focused, his features refused to come into view. All I could feel was him. The weight of his presence. The strange mix of comfort and dread that curled deep in my stomach. 

My feet were frozen beneath the sheets. I wanted to move, but my body wouldn’t listen. 

He took one step forward. 

My heart lurched. 

Another inch closer, then another–unhurried, certain. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he moved, each shift deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. As if I wasn’t something fleeting he needed to chase, but something inevitable he would reach. 

His lips brushed against my foot, light as a thought. The touch sent a quiet shiver through me, just enough to remind me I was still here. Still part of this. 

I should have pulled away. I knew that, even in the haze. But my body stayed still, heavy and warm, caught between wanting to wake and wanting to sink deeper. 

His kisses trailed upward, slow, reverent, tracing a path along my skin that felt less like touch and more like memory. Each one lingered just long enough to leave an echo behind. By the time he reached my thigh, my breathing had changed, shallow and uneven, like the dream had begun to breathe for me 

I swallowed, my fingers curling into the sheets, grounding myself in the only solid thing I could find as I was waiting for his