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Tingles race across my skin as he takes my hand in his. I’d swear the world spins as he raises it to his lips and places a kiss on the back. It’s a more gentlemanly act than I’ve ever received, but the look in his eyes—all fire and mirth with a sheen of intoxication I know all too well—is anything but.
“Sigurd,” he says. “King of Air.”
A blink is all I can manage. A king?
Laughter shakes my chest. I choke on it, trying to hold it in, and fail. My head falls back on a fluffy pillow as hysterical laughter fills the room.
“So much like her and yet so different,” he mutters as I try to rein in my emotions.
“Who?” I ask, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of my eye.
Evelyn.The name reaches out from my memories. He’d called me Evelyn.
His fingers trail down my cheek. Holy moly. A shiver races across my skin. Laughter dries up into a plume of steam in my chest.
“You don’t even know you’re gifted.” He edges closer on the bed, and my stomach clenches. “You must have wished to be here at just the right moment. I felt you come through. You were so close to me.”
Gifted? Hefeltme?What the heck?
I can’t look away from his all-consuming face as he continues, “It was just like that night so long ago.”
The back of his hand caresses my skin. I should pull away. Something yells at me to, but if this is a dream—and it has to be, right—why not enjoy his attentions?
“Fate brought you to Faery. To me.” His breath heats my face.
It’s all I can do to keep breathing. “You’re a dream.”
The tip of a pink tongue slides across his lips. “Am I?”
Temptation wins, and I reach for his face in return. “Yes.”
Electricity zips between us when my fingers graze his chin and the slight bit of dark stubble there. His eyes flutter closed. I can’t help tracing his strong jaw up to the curve of his ear or letting his soft hair slide between my fingers.
“I mean no, I’m dreaming,” I say. “This isn’t real.”
But the feelings churning within me feel anything but dreamlike. No wet dream has ever been so intense, so real. And his face, his hair, his smell…
I gasp as his weight leans onto me, pushing me into the mattress. His other arm plants on the sheets, caging me in. When his eyes snap open, they gaze into mine, full of a longing desire that steals my breath.
“This isn’t a dream,” he says. “It’s very real.”
Not a…
He leans in, his lips aiming for mine.
Not a dream?
“Evelyn…” The name is a breathless whisper sliding over my skin.
The little bird on my necklace is suddenly heavy and cold. That’s not my name. I’m Wren. I’m real, and this…
Holy sweet baby Jesus, this is real.
Chapter 4
Ishoveagainsttheman’s chest with all my might. “Get off!”
He leaps back as if burned.
