A/N: My first fanfic in a long while. Thank goodness for Darklina. But I'm VERY rusty, so give me some time to get my groove back.

She wanted them all to be nightmares. That every time Aleksander Morozova crossed her mind, it was because he was her worst nightmare.

Alina shifted restlessly in her bed. A moan whispered out of her. Her fingers clutched the sheets tightly, curling into balls, her knuckles turning white.

"Alina?" a sleepy voice whispered hoarsely in the night. "Are you ok?"

With a gasp of air, she bolted upright in her sleeping cot, heart thundering, dark eyes glazed and wild. Her heart was still thundering, and she could feel the sharp pain in her palms where her fingernails had left crescent-shaped indentations where they dug into her hand. A sheen of sweat covered her hot skin.

With a small leap up, Mal came off his own cot toward her. She focused on him, willed her breathing to even out, slowed her heart. His face came into focus and she felt grounded all at once. His eyes were clouded with worry, and she reached out a still-shaking hand to touch his face. His gentle warmth seeped into her, calming her. The slight bristle of the scruff on his face scratched her palms gently, erasing the pain from her fingernails.

"Another nightmare?" Mal asked, his dark brown gaze was searching and gentle.

A heartbeat. A skip.

"Yes," she whispered. She looked into his eyes, fringed with dark lashes, the sprinkle of freckles along his nose, the crooked, kind smile. He was handsome, in an unconventionally rough way. His was a face she had known and loved all her life. She would give anything to smooth the worry from his forehead, to have him flash that roguish smile with that glint in his eyes, and to give him a peaceful sleep at night. She smiled wanly at him, "Yes, just another nightmare."

"He can't get you, Alina." said Mal, his voice steady and reassuring. "Not anymore. He's gone."

Just like that, it seemed like the room was sucked of all air. She swallowed past the lump that was forming in her throat, breathed through the tightness that strangled her heart. What was that? Grief? Was she grieving for The Darkling? Impossible. How could she grieve someone who had lied to her, misled her, and used her in the worst possible way?

Her lips twitched in what felt like an attempt at a smile. "Let's just go back to sleep, ok?"

Mal nodded and moved silently back to his cot. Alina settled into hers, pulling the covers over her shoulders. She turned to her side, turning away from Mal, unwilling to allow him to see her face. He would know that she had lied. She wished more than anything that she could say that every time Aleksander Morozova entered her thoughts, it was because of a nightmare.

She shut her eyes. But she did grieve. For the man who had looked at her with such longing, for the man whose touch had…lit her up.

"Alina," his dark silken voice washed over her.

He was behind her. So close she could feel the warmth emanating from his body. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end in sheer awareness of him. The darkness in him called to the light in her. Like a black hole he dragged her wholly to him. Without conscious thought she found herself falling back until she leaned into him.

And then his arms were wrapped around her like steel bands. She shut her eyes, almost in submission.

She arched into him, throwing her head back against his shoulders. His lips found that sensitive spot just at the base where her jawline met her neck and he trailed hot, dark kisses along her jaw and cheek.

His hand found its way around her neck, wrapping with firm possessiveness. He could strangle her. His slender fingers could continue to tighten their hold around her neck and she probably wouldn't do anything about it. But no…they stayed firm, but oddly gentle. His insistent fingers turned her head to face him.

"Open your eyes," his dark voice demanded.

She opened her eyes and found him staring at her with those fathomless dark eyes. They were so deep she thought she would fall into their abyss and just keep falling forever. She wanted to be the light in that dark.

She turned to face him, feeling the length and heat of him against her. They were like magnets. She couldn't draw away if she wanted to, and Fates…she didn't want to. His large hands cupped her face; her hands splayed over his chest. His heart – she could feel his heart—beating hard and fast. His lips descended over hers and she leaned forward into it. His lips slanted over hers with a need – a desire – that called to her own. He needed her and by all the Saints, she needed him.

She moaned in the sheer perfection of it.

"Alina?"

She gasped awake, the keen sense of loss washing over her. She suddenly felt empty with longing. She brought her fingers to her lips, feeling them swollen, pounding with her heartbeat.

"Are you okay?" Mal's soft insistent voice came again.

She turned over to face him, schooling her face with a soft smile. "I'm fine, Mal. Like you said…he's gone." She almost choked on that last word. But was he really? How could she feel him so real against her? His lips soft and insistent over hers?

She raised her hand to her lips. "Just a nightmare…" she whispered.