Bond was jarred awake mid-dream by sudden turbulence.
He looked around the plane's first class cabin and reoriented himself as the captain's voice warned the passengers that more bumps are to be expected.
He couldn't remember the dream, save for the very last moment before he woke, and in that moment he was feeling engulfed by a flood of euphoric emotions gushing through every cell of his body. In his dream state he could feel the wave of warmth growing more and more intense, pulsating through his being.
He closed his eyes and tried to reenter the dream to no avail.
All he could remember was that Camille was there and she was the reason he felt all this. She was the reason he felt so alive.
Bond opened his eyes and glanced at his Omega. Three more hours left for the flight.
He looked out the window, gazing at the clouds bellow, and found his thoughts quickly drifting back to Camille.
She was different. She was very different.
After Vesper, Bond had vowed to never allow himself to fall in love again.
He told himself it's a risk he can't afford to take in his line of work, but that was only part of it. The other part was his certainty that he could never bring himself to trust anyone again, and where there is no trust there can be no love.
Still, he admitted to himself that the feelings he had for Camille were so much stronger than just a physical attraction.
So many times he had asked himself why he never made love to her in Bolivia. Why he didn't even try. He knew the answer and it scared him. He knew that had he taken her to bed he would have fallen for her completely.
Unlike most women, Camille seemed to be impervious to his charm. Bond was used to women throwing them selves at him, but Camille was either too focused on her vendetta against General Medrano, or she was just pretending not to be attracted to him in order to protect her self.
He entertained the thought that maybe that was why he was so drawn to her, but quickly dismissed it. It was something much deeper than that.
It was the bliss he felt every time their eyes locked, the electricity every time they briefly touched or brushed against each other.
She had awakened something within him that had been dormant for so long.
More and more often since his return from Bolivia he was finding himself pining for those stolen glances… For those split-second touches… For her.
More and more often he caught himself entertaining the ridiculously impossible fantasy of giving up his career to go find her, discover that she feels the same towards him, and living happily ever after.
The plane shook again, and the turbulence snapped Bond back to reality.
"Enough with the touchy-feely shit, 007" he mumbled to himself as he eyed the attractive flight attendant.
A night with her would have to do…