In the days since being awakened abruptly by the sound of Aira’s screams, he had found himself repeatedly jolted from sleep with the anticipation of another crisis. He remembered coming into his full powers and the week before that birthday. He had told Aira about lighting his bed on fire twice, but he had not told her about what had provoked the fires. He wondered if he should talk to her about one of the side-effects of the power surging through her. He had experienced it himself. The lust he had felt starting a week before his full possession of fire abilities had never completely abated. He had learned to control it, to push it aside when it wasn’t convenient, but he knew it would take something very intense indeed to satisfy the desire he still felt. The two times he had lit his bed on fire, he had been in a deep sleep. Dreaming. The first time, Aiden had found himself in the middle of an impassioned argument with a woman whose face was not quite clear to him; no matter how many times he recalled the dream, he could never remember what she looked like.
