Page 20 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

Callan smiled faintly and shook his head.

“I think perhaps you are unaccustomed to drinking Fae wine,” he said.

“Unaccustomed to drinking any wine—Fae or otherwise.” Her third smile of the day spread across her lips, wider and more genuine than the previous two had been. What had gotten into her? Nova ceased smiling at once when she saw the intensity in Callan’s eyes looking down at her. Taking a slow step closer so he stood within arm’s reach, he raised his hands and held them with his palms toward her.

“May I?” he asked, voice low.

Nova responded with a jerky nod, unsure what Callan intended to do but certain she desperately wanted him to do it.

“Yes, of course,” she murmured.

Reaching forward with both hands, Callan swept the loose waves of her hair behind her ears. Her breath hitched as his fingers brushed against the points. She hadn’t realized they were so sensitive. Perhaps it was like being tickled, she thought, the sensation more intense when someone else was in control of the action. His crisp scent surrounded her, pulling her from her wine-induced musings.

Callan drew his hands back, and she stared in wide-eyed amazement as frost appeared, dusting his palms. Reaching out again, he cupped the sides of her face, gently stroking the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs. His frozen touch on her hot, flushed skin was jarring. Inhaling sharply, she looked down and away, interrupting the intimacy of the moment. Callan dropped his hands immediately and cleared his throat.

“Nova, I—good night, Nova.” He turned, hastening down the hall toward his own chamber. Nova stared at the space between his shoulder blades, nodding, unable to force any words past her parted lips.

She slipped into her room and fell back against the sturdy oak door. Her heart pounded erratically, and she placed a hand on her chest, willing it to slow. Was the wine causing her body to betray her, to rebel against every defense she’d carefully crafted over the past twenty years?

Nova crossed to the dressing table, reaching awkwardly behind her back to undo the laces of her bodice. Shrugging out of her gown and leaving it lying on the floor, she loosened her stays and traded her undergarments for a white silk shift with straps of thin ribbon. The creamy fabric floated on a cushion of air atop her skin as she absentmindedly combed her hair, turned down the bedsheets, and blew out the candle on the nightstand.

She threw herself down on the bed, lying on her back in the dimly lit room. Moonlight streamed in through the open curtains. Tracing her fingertips over her cheekbones where Callan had touched her only moments before, she wondered if perhaps he was lying in his own bed thinking of her.

Nova’s fingers slid lazily to her neck, drifting lower as if on their own. But she was no blushing maiden. The easy smile and near laughter she could blame on the wine. Not this. She knew her body. Knew what she desired. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to let herself have it. Nova lowered her hands to her chest, palms skimming over her breasts, full and tender. She squeezed them and shivered, her nipples hardening under the gliding fabric of her shift. Her eyes fell shut, and she imagined it was Callan’s strong hands on her. She squeezed again, harder this time. Her breath came out in a soft gasp, a sensual thrill consuming her at the thought of his touch.

She continued her path, hands traveling lower along her abdomen, and she brought her knees up and apart, drawing the hem of her shift to her hips. Nova’s desire urged her on as she slipped her hands between her legs, inhaling sharply as the soft pads of her fingers brushed against her clit. She began tracing slow circles around the sensitive spot.

In her mind, the specter of Callan’s long body lay stretched out on the bed beside her, the solid weight of him pressed against her as he held her face in his hands, claiming her mouth with urgent, bruising kisses. Nova’s pace quickened as she imagined his teeth nipping at her throat. His fingers finding a delicious rhythm between her thighs.

Her release took her by surprise, racing along her limbs with the wild force of a lightning strike. Nova cried out in the quiet of her chamber, turning her head to muffle the sound against her shoulder. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as she looked around the darkened room, stunned by the intense pleasure brought on by a fantasy.

Which was all it would ever be.

All she could ever allow it to be.

Nova’s eyelids fluttered. The air in her chamber was cold and still. She tried to rise up onto her elbows but realized with a jolt that, once again, she was unable to move. She stared at her right arm where it lay at her side and tried to lift it, but the stubborn limb remained frozen in place.

Terror laced the blood coursing through her veins, and her breath quickened, a growing panic clutching at her heart like a tightening fist. Frantically, she scanned the four corners of the room, searching for any sign of the darkness she was certain lurked nearby.

Nothing.

Nova raised her eyes to the canopy overhead.

Tendrils of black mist hung over the edge of the velvet canopy, swaying like the dangling branches of a willow. As if sensing her awareness of it, the dark fog crept closer, hugging the underside of the canopy as it spread out above her, inky black and limitless. A single coil extended from the mass hovering above her, reaching for her face. Nova panted with rapid, shallow breaths, powerless to turn away as it made contact with her forehead.

A surge of energy passed through her, sending her body into a painful spasm. At first, there was nothing but pitch blackness. Slowly, her vision cleared until she could see, though it remained hazy, as if peering through a veil.

Soaring under a bright moon, Nova circled above a fortress of shiny black obsidian. Hundreds of ravens swooped and dove amid the jagged spires crowning the structure, their croaking calls sharp and dissonant. The fortress sat at the edge of a rocky shore, backed by a forest of bare, sun-bleached trees, gnarled trunks rising out of the ground like great skeletal arms.

Nova’s vision led her inside through an open window, and she floated along darkened hallways until she came to a Great Hall bathed in shadow. A throne of rough-hewn obsidian sat upon the dais.

Nova halted in the entryway, registering the silhouette of someone seated upon the throne, slumped to one side with an elbow resting on the wide arm. A lump formed in her throat as the figure sat up and leaned forward into a shaft of moonlight.

A flash of silver hair and piercing metallic eyes and the world collapsed into complete darkness once again.

“Nova! Nova, wake up!”

Someone shook her roughly and shouted her name. Nova woke to Callan seated on the edge of the bed beside her. His hair hung loose in front of his dark eyes, wide and flashing with concern. Nova bolted upright and wrapped her arms around his middle, laying her cheek flat against the thin fabric of his shirt. She pressed her fingertips into the firm muscles of his back, the solidness of his body against hers serving as proof she was awake. No longer in that desolate place where the air hung heavy with a sensation of pure dread.