She ran her hands over the plane of his stomach. “You are real.”
Yup. Real hard. Heath groaned and then cleared his throat. “Yes.”
She released him as if her were hot and stumbled away. The loss of her heat sent a ripple of longing through him.
“This is impossible. I have been in the Tower for so many years.”
Heath felt like he’d missed something. “The Tower?”
He wanted her back in his arms. He wanted the fear and pain in her eyes to disappear. Everything about this woman cried for him to protect, seduce, and entrench until they were inseparable.
“The Forgotten Tower. It is where What May Be is seen.”
Yeah, like that makes sense. Like, at all.
“Okay, we need to try this shit again.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why would we try to shite? That is disgusting.”
Um. “Not actually … Look, it’s a saying.”
“You are Fae, yes? From Seraph?”
He shook his head. “Half right. I am Fae, but I’m from Daemon originally.” Heath wouldn’t be able to hide what he was. The eyes alone would make sure of that, and he’d recognized her as Seelie the moment he saw her. Daemon was the homeland of the Unseelie, and no Seelie were born there.
“What is the Forgotten Tower?”
“Where What May Be is seen.”
Okay, this was getting them nowhere. “Why are you there?”
“Because I am trapped, held hostage by the owner.”
His fangs exploded from his mouth, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from grabbing the nearest weapon and storming off.
“You’re standing in front of me.”
She shook her head. “But I am not here. This is a dream, one I wish I did not have to wake up from.”
A dream. Heath looked around again and noticed the edges were frayed, as if only so much had been colored in. The black grass, purple/blue sky, and brilliant yellow sun faded to gray on the edges.
He was still in the In Between.
“Okay, who has you there, and why?”
“Skuld, the Norn of What May Be.”
There was that turn of phrase again. What May Be. He rubbed his chin. “The future.”
She nodded. “As I said.”
Not exactly, but he was getting the gist. “So the Norn … wait, the Norns?”
His people knew of the Norns, of course. They’d gone by many names—Fates, Moirai, The Threads—but their jobs were always the same, and they came in threes. Past, Present, and Future. Each of them saw their scope of the world with all-seeing knowledge. They were goddesses, for lack of a better word, not living beings who walked the earth. They never had, as far as anyone had knowledge of.
What his Foraltae spoke of was impossible.
But he was here, and she stood before him in a dream. Was he up against the Norns to save his Fate?
