Beautiful nightmares, p.78
Beautiful Nightmares, page 78
“If anyone asks, the official story is that you had something to do with stopping Gwyn, which is how Her Majesty can overlook your act of rebellion in the throne room. Her words, not mine. But when I tried to reverse Lyari’s exile, the queen wasn’t quite so generous. I think… Viessa wanted to let you go.” I cleared my throat again. “It just seemed like something worth knowing. Ultimately, the Guardians will no longer be hunting you, and you don’t have to shack up with Laurie anymore. You’re free.”
Silence met my news. I dared to glance up, and the way Collith was looking at me sent a rush of heat through my veins. That rebellious lock of hair had come loose, and it only added to his allure. I longed to rake it back.
“Thank you, Fortuna,” Collith said simply.
Hating that he still had such an effect on me, I dropped my gaze right back to the bottles. I wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist and hoped I hadn’t left behind a smear of dirt. “Yeah, well, it’s the least I can do, since I’m kind of the reason you lost the throne.”
The casual tone I used eased the thickness between us, but barely. Just enough that I could think straight again. I yanked off the gloves and tossed them next to the bag of soil. Collith pulled away from the chair, his lips curving into a humorless smile. “Perhaps it’s for the best. The Folduins finally getting their chance to rule, that is. I had a lot of time to think in that dungeon, and looking back, I don’t believe I was a very good king. On the contrary, I suspect I was as poor a leader as I was a husband.”
He said this without any trace of self-deprecation. I studied him and found myself wanting to believe what I saw—the remorse, the regret. A line deepened between my brows as I thought of everything we’d been through these past few weeks. Still considering it, I took a damp washcloth out of the sink and started cleaning the counter. After a few seconds, I forced myself to meet Collith’s gaze.
“I don’t think you were a good king,” I told him, matching his neutrality. “But… I don’t think I was a good queen, either.”
It was as close to an apology that he would get. At this point, our story was so tangled and knotted that I wasn’t sure who the strings belonged to or where they were supposed to go. Collith had been in the wrong, more than once, and so had I. All I truly knew for certain was that, in spite of everything, he loved me and I still wanted him. Maybe the healthiest choice would be to cut those strings entirely.
Collith’s eyes were warm now. I watched them scan me, from my exposed legs all the way up to my battered T-shirt that showed bits of skin here and there. My core tightened in response. There was no point hiding my reaction to him, I thought. Goddamn faeries. It felt as if Collith was the moon and I was the tide, always helpless against his pull.
In a burst of rebellion, I threw the washcloth back into the sink and retreated from the counter. I’d put my supplies away later. “I’m going to change and go for a run. So… bye, I guess.”
I didn’t know what else to say. Have a nice day? It was nice to see you? Annoyed by how much he’d flustered me, I turned and hurried into my room. There was a slight shake to my hands as I pulled one of the dresser drawers open. Moments later, Collith filled the doorway, just as I’d known he would. Just as part of me hoped he would.
“Fortuna,” he said. That was it. Nothing else.
Knowing what I was about to do, I leaned forward and rested my forehead against my knuckles. “I hate you,” I whispered brokenly. “I hate you so much.”
Collith closed the door, eliminating the slant of light across the floor and enclosing us in darkness. He approached slowly. Once he was so close that I could feel his body temperature, Collith put his hands on my waist and turned me around. I didn’t fight him. All I could think was, Weak. I’m so weak. He pressed his forehead to mine and said, “I know.”
I made a helpless, frustrated sound. Then I reached up, slid my fingers around the back of Collith’s neck, and pulled his face to mine.
We were too impatient to make our way to the bed, and we wrenched each other’s clothes off right there, breaking apart only to come back together like a fire built anew. I touched every part of him I could reach, ravenous for the feel of his bare skin. Eventually Collith turned me around, his hold loose enough that I could step away whenever I wanted. My palms braced against the door as he pulled my shorts down, the only piece of clothing left between us. My body was tight with anticipation and wet with need. Then Collith was there, poking me with his hardness, finding his way inside.
I let out a gasp at the initial pain—he was so large, so deep—while Collith groaned. Hearing me, he went still. I reached back and found his sculpted backside, urging him onward with the press of my hands. That was all the encouragement he needed. Collith was more gentle this time, moving his hips at a languid pace. Soon the pain faded and my need became more urgent. I began to meet Collith thrust for thrust. He moaned and caught my fingers, holding them against the door. The length of his body crushed mine. His movements came faster and harder. I cried out, but Collith heard pleasure in the sound and didn’t stop.
“Condoms?” he asked through his teeth.
“Don’t have any,” I gasped back. Without warning, Collith yanked himself out. I turned my head to protest, then belatedly realized he was coming. The warmth of him covered the upper curve of my ass and Collith’s groan filled my ears again. Once his cock had gone still, he shifted to grab the towel hanging on the bathroom door. He kissed the back of my neck while he wiped me clean.
Once he was done, I turned around and skimmed my palm down his chest. “That was…”
“We’re not finished,” Collith said, tugging at me.
Intrigued, I allowed him to lead me across the room and onto the bed. Collith knelt on the floor, nudged my knees apart with his own, then buried his face between them. I bit my wrist, overcome with sensation. His lips kissed and sucked, exploring every inch of me. My legs trembled and I couldn’t form a coherent thought. Then Collith did something that made me buck. His hands tightened on my hips.
“Collith,” I moaned, opening wider for him. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I’m not going to stop,” he murmured against my core. I almost came then and there. Collith retreated, but it was only to flip me over in a firm, deft movement. I was balanced on my hands and knees when he leaned forward again, his tongue delving inside me, his hands holding my legs in place as I writhed.
And then, suddenly, I was cresting that hill—the sensation was indescribable. Giving myself over to it, I felt my toes curl against the mattress and my eyes flutter shut. Release roared through me like a tidal wave.
The tremors were gradually coming to an end when Collith joined me on the bed. He was still naked, and even though I was drowsy with pleasure, I didn’t miss the opportunity to admire him. His biceps were hard and pronounced, flexing while he settled onto his side. They drew my notice toward the taut lines of his stomach, which led down to hard thighs and that long, delicious cock hanging between them.
Desire stirred again, and I rolled onto my stomach, reaching for Collith at the same time.
But as soon as my arm moved, his attention shifted. Whatever he saw made him frown. Collith reached toward me silently, then traced the faint scars on my back. I glanced over my shoulder, startled. Most of the time, I forgot about them.
It was obvious the marks bothered him, and I could guess why—they were a permanent reminder of our dark beginning. I cupped Collith’s jaw and turned his face away, forcing him to focus on me. I’d put scars on him, too. Ninety years of torture that still lived in his eyes. Those eyes met mine now.
“I love you,” Collith said. He didn’t apologize out loud, but it was in his gaze. In the gentleness of his fingers as he traced another lash, beginning at the top of my spine and ending on the back of my thigh.
I didn’t respond because there were a thousand reasons not to. He was still Collith, the faerie king who had lied to me and betrayed me. I was still Fortuna, the volatile Nightmare who had sent him to Hell and slept with his ex.
Feeling sober now, my earlier bliss faded, I pulled my hand back and sank onto the pillow. I had a brief, feeble thought about getting dressed, but the door was closed and we hadn’t left any evidence in the main room, so I allowed myself to stay in bed for the second time today. After a moment, Collith put his head down, too. He closed his eyes, his eyelashes dark fringes against a smooth, pale cheek. I found myself staring, unable to look away. Minutes passed and I did nothing but gaze at the male in my bed. The one that I could never completely get out of my head, no matter what he’d done.
In a burst of restlessness, I rolled over. Now my back rested against Collith’s chest and stomach. His cool skin was such a relief that I didn’t move, though I knew I should. Why was it so hot in here? Where was everyone? More minutes went by. I listened to Collith’s soft breathing and realized that he’d fallen asleep. It was proof of the exhaustion I had seen in his face. I couldn’t bring myself to wake him, though he hardly deserved my pity. If I had any self-respect at all, I should kick him out of this bed and my life.
Instead, I thought of how badly I’d missed this since we were last together, even when I hated him most. I thought of all the tender moments we’d exchanged before I learned his secret. Playing Connect Four. Waltzing. Grieving together.
There were a thousand reasons not to want Collith Sylvyre… and not a single one of them mattered.
My whisper was fragile, barely more than a faint exhale. Yet it still managed to float between us. “I love you, too.”
I waited with bated breath, trying to discern from his breathing if he was still asleep. With every second that ticked past, relief expanded in me like a small balloon. Maybe I hadn’t really thought he would hear it. It was easy to take back something you’d said while the other person was unconscious.
The balloon popped when Collith’s hand stole across my stomach and curved around my hip. He pulled at me gently, saying nothing about the wild heartbeat between us. I gave in to his silent request and turned onto my back. Propped on his side, Collith lowered his head. Our legs tangled as our mouths met in a deep, perfect kiss. But there was sadness in it, too—he knew I hadn’t forgiven him.
Then Collith shifted, reaching down between us, and he was back inside me. Rocking into my body as if he’d never get another chance. Every thought left my head once more. I moved with him, linking my ankles at the small of his back. As always, Collith gave thought to my pleasure, as well. His fingers found my center, trailing through the wet folds before stopping at the top, right on that tight bundle of nerves aching to be touched. He teased and rubbed it, all the while thrusting his hips in a rough, urgent rhythm.
“Collith,” I breathed, throwing my head back. His mouth descended on my collarbone and left a trail of fire. “Collith, I’m so close…”
And then the world came apart again.
* * *
My family slept all around me.
Sleep eluded me, though. I laid on my back, staring up at the ceiling. My thoughts were leaves caught in a wind current, going around and around. Reliving not just what happened since Belanor kidnapped me, but everything before that. Every twist and turn. Each mistake and misstep. All the surprises and heartbreaks.
I remembered the good moments, too. It seemed impossible there had been even one, yet there were several scattered throughout the current. I remembered the sound of Matthew’s laughter. What Laurie’s kisses felt like. The warmth of exchanging a conspiratorial look with Gil. And so many more that. Laying there, I realized how lucky I’d been. My life wasn’t easy, but it had love. I had seen inside enough minds to know how special that was.
After a couple hours, I pushed all that aside and tried to focus on the most insistent thought. It wasn’t the loudest, necessarily, but it kept coming back like an anxious dog.
We’re missing something.
We still hadn’t found Belanor’s master. If the black spell cast on him and the reek of sulfur were any indication, we were fucked. Laurie thought the loose ends had been neatly tied, or maybe he’d deliberately ignored those dangling threads. He was too impatient to reclaim his kingdom.
Beside me, Collith’s breathing was deep and even, but I knew there was nothing peaceful about the thoughts behind those eyelids. Even now, sated from what we’d just done, the corners of his full mouth were turned down. I wondered if he was dreaming of Hell. Or killing his father. Or one of the hundreds of other horrors in his head. I’d only seen a handful of them during my time in there.
There’s so much I still don’t know, I thought suddenly. So much I still needed to learn. Not just about Collith, but magic, as well. Maybe I could borrow more books from his collection, or even get my hands on Kindreth’s journals again…
The journals.
I flew upright in bed, my eyes wide. That was where I’d seen the symbol before—the one on both me and Jacob. Kindreth had drawn all the bloodline crests, and Olorel’s had always been at the back of mind, waiting to be reexamined. I hadn’t made the connection because the brand was Olorel’s family crest combined with the symbol for the binding spell put on me as a child.
Two overlapping shapes, two meanings, forged into one sinister purpose. Binding. Opening. A variation of the demonic possession spell, maybe? But why did Belanor specifically want a Nightmare?
Collith might have more insight. At the very least, he’d be a fresh perspective.
I was reaching for his shoulder at the same moment my senses prickled. Suddenly there was power in the air, so potent that it felt like static electricity. I pulled my hand back, frowning. No one who intended harm could step foot onto Cyrus’s land, that was what Savannah had told me. So it couldn’t be an enemy entering the barn. Unless Savannah had botched her spell.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
The power didn’t retreat. It didn’t become any stronger, either. It just… hovered there, as if it were waiting for something. I lifted my head off the pillow to see the alarm clock. Unease trickled through me when I saw the numbers. The Witching Hour. I stayed there for another minute, my heart pounding harder. Trying to determine if there was anything threatening about the presence that had appeared at the edge of my psyche. I only detected a mild expectancy from that roiling strangeness.
I considered waking Collith again. But the consciousness brushing against mine didn’t move or change. An enemy probably would’ve entered the loft already or set off my internal alarms.
The rug was soft against the soles of my feet. Setting the covers aside, I stood up and retrieved my clothes from the various spots they’d been discarded in our rush. Once I was dressed, I took a small pistol out of the nightstand and quietly loaded it. Collith slept on. My gaze lingered on him as I opened the door and slipped through.
Despite the hour, there was nothing eerie or unnerving about the loft. Emma had left two lamps on, and their gentle glow only made the space cozier. I crept across the floor, moving as silently as a faerie because of the thick rugs.
On the off chance there was an assassin in the stairwell, I flattened against the wall on the left side of the door. Then I reached with my right hand, holding the gun up in the other. I didn’t give fear a chance to take root. In the next instant I grasped the knob, took a steadying breath, and yanked the door open.
Silence hummed in the air like an electric current.
Holding my breath, I pressed my eye to the crack between the door and the wall. My visitor’s scent wafted past, so subtle a human wouldn’t notice it. I knew that scent. Frowning, I dared to poke my head around the door now, still keeping half of my body wedged behind it.
When I saw who stood in the shadows, my frown deepened. I lowered the gun and shifted into the open. “Jacob? What are you—”
I caught sight of his reflection and the rest of the question stuck in my throat.
The man in the mirror was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. More shining than Laurie, more lovely than Collith, more detailed than Oliver. He wasn’t especially tall, but he had wide shoulders. His body was slender and his hips narrow. His high cheekbones accented his clear blue eyes. His hair was longish and silky. Golden. He wore a button-up white shirt with the sleeves shoved to his elbows and fitted jeans. A tattoo encircled his wrist. His very skin seemed to glow.
I forgot all of this when I finally noticed his wings.
They were so dark that they blended with the night. Huge, unmoving, dangerous things. The edges looked as sharp as razors, and though I’d been led to believe from Mom’s lessons that wings were things of feathers, these clicked and clacked in layers upon layers of metal.
“Who are you?” The air was so still that it felt as if I had shouted the words.
“I am a friend,” the thing wearing Jacob said. His voice was nice. Calm and lilting. We were still looking at each other through the mirror. “Thank you for leading me to this host. He’s not quite strong enough for my needs, but for now, he will do.”
“Who are you?” I repeated quietly. A ringing had begun in my ears.
He tsked gently, making the sound sensual, somehow. “Do you really not know who I am, Fortuna? I thought you were more perceptive.”
The way he said my name was terrifying. As if this wasn’t the first time we’d met. As if he knew me. As if he could sense every hidden impulse and every secret yearning. It was a whisper on the edge of my subconscious, like a bubble struggling to the surface.
Comprehension slammed into me.
Suddenly it felt like I’d been walking through the dark all these years, but now I’d been given a single spark that was enough to send other lights lighting up along the edges of my path. I could see it in my mind. With each light I walked past, making it brighten, a strangely beautiful domino effect seemed to occur, and the next one flared to life.
First, I heard Åsa’s voice insisting that I’d been promised to someone. The memory of her voice brought the rest of that night back in vivid detail. My parents had stared back at her, their faces so drawn and pale, even as Dad raised his gun. They’d been willing to commit murder to protect me from what they’d known was coming.
