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A coy grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, his gaze heating as if he could see straight into her core. “That’s how it is in dreams, lovely. This wonderland carnival promises delights of the most exquisite kind.”
Electricity sizzled along Erin’s skin, the charged air igniting a burning curiosity within her. Would his lips taste of the same mystery that his gaze promised? Would they carry the same golden warmth as that other man’s?
“Exquisite, you say?” she purred, her laughter giving way to an intoxicating smile. Her heart raced as she leaned closer to him, her question suspended in the space between them until he finally swept in to capture it with his lips.
The distance between them evaporated as he leaned in, his lips claiming hers in a searing kiss that was anything but tender. This man was a wildfire. His touch was an all-encompassing blaze that devoured her, leaving behind an insatiable yearning that echoed in her bones. His kiss held the promise of an unexplored adventure, an invitation that she was more than eager to accept. As Erin surrendered to the irresistible pull of his allure, she realized she craved more. She craved everything this mysterious man offered.
Their passionate encounter escalated rapidly, tongues dueling and teeth nipping in an all-consuming dance that stripped away Erin’s awareness of her surroundings. His hands, strong and sure, traced paths across her body, each caress amplifying the intoxicating sensation coursing through her. Her heart thundered in her chest, the frenetic rhythm echoing her desperate yearning formore, closer, deeper.His ragged breaths and inaudible whispers blended with her own, creating a symphony of desire that rivaled the wild revelry of the bacchanal around them.
Erin was completely lost in him, in the tantalizing mystery of the man before her and the electrifying unknown of what might happen next. The contours of his muscular form under her exploratory touch sent a thrilling shiver down her spine. She reveled in his commanding presence, his powerful arms a solid anchor in the whirlwind of sensations threatening to consume her. His clear arousal ignited a responsive flame within her, and she matched his ardor, spurred on by the intoxicating blend of desire and curiosity.
She realized fleetingly anyone might watch, but the thought barely caused a ripple in her heated reverie. After all, she reasoned with a carefree shrug, this was only a dream, wasn’t it? Why not give in to the pleasure, to the exhilarating unpredictability of the moment? In the realm of dreams, there were no judgments, no consequences, only the enthralling dance of desire unfolding between her and the mysterious man.
Just as she was falling deeper under his spell, allowing herself to be swept away by the tempestuous tide of their shared passion, a sudden flurry of activity disrupted their tryst.
With an exuberant burst of giggles and rustling leaves, a grove of nymphs appeared seemingly out of nowhere, pulling Erin away from the mesmerizing man. Their cheery voices chattered away as they led her into a small copse of trees and presented her with a dress fashioned in their likeness. Short, breezy, and woven from a haphazard assortment of leaves—in her case, freshly pruned grape leaves. It seemed a precarious ensemble, but a soft underlayment of mossy substance held it all together. As the nymphs playfully formed a barrier around her, Erin, still dazed from the abrupt interruption, shed her t-shirt, shorts, and undergarments to don this extraordinary gift.
However, when Erin reached for the dress, a few of the flower sprites stepped in with paintbrushes and insisted, without words, to adorn her flesh with elaborate painted-on vines and grape clusters. They had no shame, covering almost every inch of her skin, but they worked quickly, the paint drying as quickly as they applied it, although the process did sting slightly. Erin amused herself in the meantime by finishing her wineskin. It was a sad moment, and she passed off the empty vessel to the lady with a frown.
No sooner was the painting completed than the sprites slipped the skimpy dress over her head, and the troupe was urging her back to the fire. For a time, Erin danced with wild abandon, lost in the moment, amazed at the combined energy she was now a part of. When the drums reached a crescendo, she raised her voice as one with the others, and the very trees shook. It was heady, and Erin loved it.
While the drummers found their cadence again, Erin watched many couples pair off and cavort against trees or in the shadows. And yet, in the glimpses of firelight, nothing was left to Erin’s imagination. She knew she could be one of them if she so wanted, yet she craved the frenzied motion of the dance. Erin spied her enigmatic host across the fire and caught his eyes, watching her intently as he lounged amongst his revelers. She noted that although he had a nymph kissing along the flesh of his bare arm; he paid her no heed.
How curious.
Erin broke eye contact and stepped round the circle. When Erin looked back toward where the lightning-marked man had been standing, she observed with some disappointment that he was no longer present at the gathering.
She sighed, and then bellowed out, “I require more wine! And drummers, return to your posts and lead me in your ecstatic dance!”
Trills and good-natured laughs met her decree, but shortly, another round of deep, rhythmic beats set up and set her feet moving.
A timid satyr with a bruised neck tapped her elbow. “Begging your forgiveness for the touching, Vessel. Here’s your wine.” He held out the wineskin, bowing low.
Vessel? What was he going on about? No matter. She took the wine from him and scratched between his horns. “No worries, my furry friend. You were within the bounds I set forth. Well, this time. Now go on, for the frenzy is yet young, and I intend to dance until the sun rises!”
He grinned mischievously and then howled into the starless night before turning and dancing off into the throng. Erin smiled and loosened the stopper on the wineskin, and as she raised the bag to her lips, her eyes sought her host instinctively. A second later, Erin found him, well entwined in a pair of willow nymphs, their long arms and legs wound about him in a horizontal dance which should have brought a flush to Erin’s cheeks. Instead, she simply smiled, kissed the stopper, and then she saluted her host with the wineskin. His eyes flashed burnt umber, giving a brief nod of acceptance.
Erin watched him return his affections to the nymphs, and she took a long draught of the wine. She rejoined the dancing, and realized there was a tempo, not just to the drums, but also to the vintage. It was a Rioja, hot and fiery, brought to pair with the intensity of the celebration. It would smelt them together through an iron forge of will and passion.
How she knew this, Erin neither knew nor questioned. It was a dream, after all. She had little to no wine knowledge in her waking life.
Erin thought wistfully of her mother, wishing she was still around to experience the carefree joy of the dancers before her. The place she called home in the city was a universe away from this altered space, this theater of revelry.
And yet she’d never felt more at home.
She guzzled the wine, sharing it amongst her newfound friends, blotting out thoughts she could do nothing to change. They danced until the rosy fingers of dawn touched the sky, and then she collapsed in a heap onto her bed of moss beneath the lodgepole pines.
CHAPTER5
BLAINE
Blaine hadn’t felt this wild and carefree in years. His laughter rose and mixed with the smoke hanging heavy in the night air, punctuated by sparks of embers floating up on heat-drafts from the bonfire. He wore only his boxers, yet none of the characters moving around the bonfire took any notice. Half-dressed bodies danced to the rhythmic, unseen drumming, some moving at a slow, sensuous, deliberate pace while others spun wildly, deftly threading their way through the others.
Raucous laughter erupted around him. A rough, leathery wineskin was thrust into his hands, and Blaine took a pull of the tannic and spicy draught, the bite of the wine making his tongue tingle, before passing it along. The aromatic smell of the wine wafted from the wineskin as he studied the faces of those in the small group standing near him, passing it. A furrowed brow and a nervous gulp betrayed his unsettled feelings as he noticed a wild, animalistic look about them all.
In fact, they didn’t look altogether human at all. A hirsute man clapped Blaine on the back as they all laughed together; were his legs covered with fur, or was that some sort of costume the man wore? Or perhaps a effective hair growth serum? A feminine face across from him smirked, her painted face and mud-caked hair wild in the flickering light. A slight, androgynous form clad only in a loincloth and swirls of paint leaned against the sprite, whispering something in her ear. The smell of earthy paint and the rustle of the loincloth added to the peculiar atmosphere.
The wineskin again passed to him, and Blaine took another drink before he passed it along. The incongruity of the situation hit him. Where was he? What was this place? And who were these—assuming they were human—people?
