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“Keep an eye on her,” he decided, and went back to eating. I nodded, accepting the order, but not altogether sure it was necessary. Something told me that I wasn’t going to be able to keep away from my mysterious little Blue even if I wanted to.
4
CORDELIA
My eyes fluttered open at some silent beckoning and took in the familiar dreamscape. A warm night. A blanket and throw pillows arranged on the soft grass of the meadow. Stars glittering in an infinite sky overhead.
“Hello, Pixie.” The smooth timbre of his greeting wrapped around me like a silken embrace.
“Hello, Prince.” For a moment, I studied him as he reclined on the blanket, gazing up at the celestial curtain with his hands tucked beneath his head. The moonlight washed over his body, illuminating every ridge of muscle on his bare torso. He was built like an Olympic swimmer. Strong shoulders tapering into a narrower waist, defined by the deep-cut V of his hips. My core clenched at the sight of him.
High five, brain.
It may have been torture that my desperate mind conjured such a perfect man to ease my loneliness, but I’d take it with an eager smile on my face. I always took whatever he gave me with a smile. At least my dream man couldn’t be jinxed.
I sauntered over to the blanket, swinging my hips and glad that I dreamed myself in a little lacy pajama set. When I dropped to my knees at the edge of the blanket and crawled over to him, I could hear the slightly ragged intake of his breath. He didn’t turn his head, just gave me a side-eye for my teasing and quirked the corner of his mouth. I snuggled into him and filled my lungs with a scent I wished I could put into a candle. Sandalwood and bourbon and my Prince.
He angled toward me and propped himself on an elbow to peer down at me. I lifted a hand to trace the contours of his face. Strong brow, dark hazel eyes. Tightly trimmed beard over a chiseled jaw. I stroked a finger down the straight line of his nose, then over his full lips.
“What mischief have you gotten into?” he said against my fingertips before lifting his own hand to sweep over my cheek. He brushed his thumb over my bottom lip, waiting for an answer. I shivered despite the comfortable air, and my body leaned closer to his. If I could live here forever, I’d never wake up.
I’d been having these dreams for a while, even before Deva got sick. Perhaps it was a way of dealing with the emptiness I struggled with, of feeling alone and unwanted. My own Prince Charming rode in to change it all. He saved my life, holding my pieces together when the pain would have broken me apart.
I was sure any therapist would say that it’s not a healthy coping mechanism to be emotionally attached to an imaginary friend. But, then again, Deva was a witch, and I cursed people with my touch, so the situation was already a little strange.
I made a thoughtful sound and fought a grin as his long fingers moved to sift through my hair. “I have an audition for a job dancing at a nightclub.” I tempered my excitement before I could slip up and try to tell him more about it. Certain things, personal details—I literally could not say them in the dreamscape. It would make my head pulse with pain, and I couldn’t force the words out.
I couldn’t even speak my own name. Go figure that I’d find a way to jinx myself in the only refuge I had.
My Prince’s lips curled into a hungry smile. “Dancing, huh? Can I watch you practice?”
I laughed and lightly shoved at his shoulder, feeling my cheeks warm. “You’d better not tease me. I get this job, and the boys will be lining up.”
He growled, a seductive rumble from deep in his chest, and rolled so he was lying over me. “Boys?” He braced his weight on his forearms and settled his hips between my thighs, pressing his hard length against my center. “Or men?”
Butterflies burst to life in my core, incensed by the rush of heat blooming between our bodies. I shifted to accommodate him better and wrapped a leg around the back of his solid thigh. My hands trailed up his hard chest to lock behind his neck.
“You know you’re the only man for me.”
He growled again and dipped his head. “I’m yours, Pixie.” Then his mouth was on mine in a rough claim. I gasped at the desperate force of it, like I was his last breath before he drowned. He dared me to give as good as I got with teasing swipes of his tongue.
When he pulled away, I chased him, but he just nosed my head to the side and moved to my neck. He left a trail of sparks from ear to collarbone, and I arched into him with a soft whimper. His fingers were like live wires, pleasure dancing over my skin wherever he touched.
“Give me more,” I panted, desperate to feel him everywhere.
“Fuck,” he cursed, pulling at the waistband of my shorts. “I’ll give you everything.”
“Yes.” I wanted everything. All of him. “Prince—”
BANG!
The backfire of a car on the street ripped me out of the dream without warning. I jerked upright in bed and startled Orion, my chest heaving while I tried to settle my breathing. My heart raced like I’d been running a marathon, the frantic rhythm pulsing between my ears and between my thighs.
I ran my fingers over my lips, wishing they really were swollen from his kisses. Wishing for some shred of proof that it was real. That he was real. But then I reminded myself that even if he was real, I’d just ruin him too.
5
CORDELIA
