Page 100 of In Somnis

“I… no!” I protest. “He’s way too young and…”

He hums, clearly enjoying this. “Dreams run on emotions, not logic.”

Ridge lifts the hand that’s not holding mine, then makes a lazy flicking motion. Nevan jerks backward as if he’s being yanked by an invisible force, straight through the kitchen window in a burst of glass and light.

“What the hell?!”

Ridge finally looks toward the empty space where Nevan stood, then back to me, utterly unconcerned.

“Chill.” He squeezes my hand. “He’s only a projection of your subconscious.”

“You just threw him out a window!”

“And?” His tone is dry. “Your precious baby boy is fine. He’s a thought your brain dressed up.”

I gape at him. “Even so, you didn’t need to kill him.”

“I can’t kill something that’s not real. Now focus. If you keep emotionally multitasking like this, the whole place comes down.” As if summoned by his words, the crack in the ceiling widens with a groan, and dust drifts down between us. He glances up, then back at me. “I said, focus. We have shit to talk about, you can smooch some more later.”

Something in me snaps.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” I shoot back, tugging my hand free of his. “You couldn’t even open your door for me when I wanted to talk, but it’s fine when you walk into my dream?”

He lifts his shoulder in the world’s most unbothered shrug. “I’m not on call for you.”

The audacity.

“And you don’t get to ignore me and then show up in my dreams when it suits you!”

He grins and flicks my nose, making me blink in shock.

“Can you stop doing that?”

He pouts theatrically. “But it’s so flickable.”

I glare at him, not at all prepared when he does it again. Dammit.

“Stop it.”

“Make me.” He reaches for my nose again, and I try to grab his wrist, but he anticipates it, gently flicking my hand away.

“Uh-uh. Stop me without touching me.”

My hand still hovers uselessly in the air. “What?”

“You heard me.” His eyes gleam with challenge as he reaches out again, slower this time, as if he’s daring me to figure it out.

This is a dream. Anything’s possible here, right?

I will something, anything, to stop him. The floor shifts, and thick, golden honey bubbles up from the tiles. It grips his hand, halting it inches from my face. The honey pulls his arm downward, and Ridge’s eyes widen as he tugs experimentally against it, but it holds firm, stretching like taffy before snapping back.

I stare at the dream honey coiled around his wrist, while my pulse turns louder in my ears. “I did that?”

“Yeah.” He gives another tug against the sticky hold, flexing long fingers inside the grip. “You did.” He puts his lollipop in his mouth with his free hand and murmurs around it. “Now let me go.”

No. Not yet.

“How do you know how to do this?”