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Please let it be a bad dream.
Except I know it’s not.
I can’t hear a sound, but I feel him lower himself into the water.
It’s a big-ass pool. I should move. I tell myself to move, give him some room. But I’m rooted to my spot.
“Strange?” Ryther prompts with that enthralling voice.
Right. I was speaking. Telling him about the fact that I watched him pound some chick into next year. Without mentioning any of that.
“A few days ago—last Saturday. Do the days work the same way here as they do in my world?”
“No.”
I consider asking what the difference is, but decide I’m not so chickenshit as to drop my previous point. “Right. Well, last Saturday, for me—about a week ago—I saw you.”
He lifts an eyebrow, ever so slightly.
“I’m fairly certain it was you.” Down to your cock, I don’t add. Though he might hear it in my thoughts. “I’ve always had visions—seeing things that aren’t there, like you told me earlier. I saw psychiatrists to help me sort out reality and visions.”
“Just because some things aren’t happening in front of your eyes doesn’t make them any less real,” Ryther notes casually.
“That’s exactly the definition of unreal,” I retort.
He shrugs. “You’re a child of Ilvaris, stuck in the Ironworld. Your mind likely travelled to our world, in order to preserve your sanity. Breathe pure air, feel the magic you were born to wield.”
That…makes more sense than I want it to.
“So you’re saying I really saw you, then?”
He considers my question for a moment. “Perhaps. I’ve been away for a while. But I did return about five of our days ago; that would make about eight days in your world. Our planet’s size and orbit aren’t the same.” He tilts his head. “What was I doing?”
Shit. I should have expected that very logical question, and prepared for it. “Erm.”
I’m suddenly fascinated by my cuticles, but I don’t miss the chuckle.
“Oh, you little pervert. And which of my lovers did you watch me fuck, hm? Relva, Pavi, Lurn?”
I flush deeper, but force myself to shrug. “What makes you think I know any of these names?”
“Well, what did they look like?”
Deeply satisfied. “Can’t you pluck it from my mind?”
He sighs. “Memories are harder than wayward thoughts, particularly if you guard them. I could, but I’d have to break into your pretty little head. It wouldn’t be pleasant. Tell me. Blue hair? Red? White?”
“Did you screw that many women five days ago?”
“Lurn’s a man. And yes. As mentioned, I have been away. My body needed to replenish. It doesn’t have to be with sex. I could have used torture, I suppose,” he muses, matter-of-fact.
“Wait, torture?” He lost me there. “And that is in any way equivalent to sex?”
“Only when you do it right,” Ryther snorts, flashing me a grin. “I forget how ignorant you are, queenling. The folk are creatures of nature, each of us blessed with the ability to morph energy into power.” With an arrogant smirk, he adds, “Some better than others. Our own energy is spent, and just like you’d eat to ingest the calories you need for your body to function, we must feed our magic.”
“On what?” Something tells me he’s not going to say McDonald’s.
“Emotions, feelings; call it what you will. Another person’s joy or despair. Sex is, shall we say, the politest way to go about it.”
