Excerpt of Dawnkeepers by Jessica Andersen

As Alexis walked to the throne, she knew she was alone yet
not alone. He was here, too- the lover of her dreams, the
one who was Nate yet not, the one who loved her like he
had, but didn’t break her heart. That was how she had
always known it was a dream before. Now, though, she
wasn’t sure what to call it. She’d touched the statuette
and been transported into a dark, formless corner of the
barrier, yet now she was back on earth- she knew it from
the taste of the air, and the strong sense of being
underground.

When she reached the end of the arcade, the pathway she was
on curved and widened, forming a platform in front of the
throne. There, in the center of the flat space, she saw
shadowy footprints in the dust, those of bare human feet,
standing facing the throne.

Almost without conscious volition, acting as she had done
in the dream, she toed off her shoes and stepped into the
footprints. They fit perfectly, as they had in her
fantasies. The certainty that she had been in this chamber
before, that she’d done this before, was overwhelming, as
was the knowledge that the moment she blooded herself,
placed her hands on the altar and said his name, he would
be there with her.

The certainty- and the nerves- had her hesitating. Then,
knowing she didn’t have a choice, not really, she pulled a
ceremonial knife she didn’t recognize from a weapons belt
she didn’t remember putting on, and drew the blade sharply
across her palm. She hissed against the pain, and blood
flowed, dark crimson in the amber torchlight. Then she
reversed hands and cut her other palm. Her bloodied
fingers slipping on the haft of the knife as she set it
aside.

“Gods,” she whispered, hope and fear spiraling up within
her. “Help me to be worthy.” More, she prayed for the
gods to help her understand what the dreams were telling
her- about her mother. About herself, and the man who wore
the hawk medallion.

Knowing there was no other way, she closed her eyes and
pressed her bloodstained palms to the altar, and said the
words that had come to her in a dream, though she was no
seer: “Tzakaw muwan.” Summon the hawk.

A detonation rocked the room. Water splashed the walls and
the footpath, and the sound of ripples turned to thin
screams coming from the carved onlookers, who hadn’t moved,
yet somehow seemed to gape in awe.

She turned, knowing what she would see.

He stood opposite her, at the edge where the stone and the
water met. His eyes bored into hers, hard and intense and
no-nonsense. He wore combat gear, with his black shirt
unbuttoned at the top to show a glint of gold. He was
Nate, yet not, just as she was Alexis, yet not.

She was the smoke and he was the hawk. And that was all
that really mattered as his eyes darkened and he strode
toward her, his intent as clear as the need inside her. . .