shake my head, trying to catch my breath. “Nothing. I was just . . .” Just what? Having a dream?
But if felt so real.
“You look flushed,” Laylen notes, reaching for my forehead. “And you feel a little warm.”
As I think about the hot, sweaty sex Alex and I had in my dream, my skin warms. “I think I’m just a little overwhelmed with . . . everything.”
He glances down at my stomach then fidgets with a leather band on his wrists. “Yeah . . . That’s understandable.”
An awkward silence stretches between us, one I don’t like at all.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, breaking the quietness between us. “Because I can go make you something to eat if you are.” His eyes beg me to be hungry, as if he’s in desperate need to get away from the awkwardness already building between us again.
I nod, even though I’m not. “Yeah, food would be great.”
Looking relieved, he dashes out of the room.
I lie down on the bed again, letting the loneliness sink in, desperately wishing Alex was here.
ALEX
I fucking hate the smell of these kinds of places. Every single goddamn person reeks like they just rolled out of a gutter.
“You seem down, sweetie,” a woman wearing a long, grey dress says as I pass by her. Her blonde hair is way too thin for her round face, and her yellowish-brown teeth are cracked. She extends her hand toward me, her sharp nails skating down my chest to the top of my jeans. “Maybe I can help you with that?”
I push her back with intolerance. “I’m looking for a man named Draven. Ever heard of him?”
From the look on her face, I can tell she has, but she has no intention of telling me. At least that’s what she thinks. I’ll get her to tell me, though, no matter what I have to do.
She smashes her lips together. “Never heard of him.” She spreads her fingers across my shoulder. “Why don’t I help you forget about this Draven?” She leans in and puts her lips next to my ear. “Let me make you forget about him. I can make you forget about everything if you’ll let me.” Her hand starts traveling toward the top of my jeans again.
I snag her wandering hand, clutching it tightly as I lean toward her. “I know what you are, so cut the fucking act and take me to Draven.”
She steps back, smiling her Banshee smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Banshees are the worst of the faeries. I know this, just like I know the ragged state of this woman in front of me is only armor. Beneath her façade, she’s probably less worn out, even pretty, and also alluring. Her seductive attempts work well on humans and can even put them in a trance, but since I’m a Keeper and know she’s really a sign of death, her attempts to seduce me don’t work.
“If you know what I am,” she purrs, “then you know your future is coming to an end.”
“I’m not asking you about my death.” I jerk on her arm. “I’m asking you to take me to Draven.”
She traces her pinky nail under my chin, scratching the skin. “What makes you think I know him?”
“My patience is wearing thin,” I warn through clenched teeth. “Either you’ll willingly take me to Draven, or I’ll fucking make you take me to him. It’s your choice.”
She keeps grinning, but I detect the slightest wince as I grasp her hand more tightly. “How much is seeing this Draven worth to you?” Her brow arches. “Your wealth? Your strength? Your life? Tell me, would you give me your life and soul to see this man?”
“My soul already belongs to someone else,” I say, calm and in control, trying not to think of Gemma or how much I miss her. I want to be with her, kiss her, touch her, feel her like I did in that dream this morning.
It was so strange. Usually, my dreams aren’t very vivid, but last night, I dreamt I was with her, kissing her while slipping deep inside her, and it felt so real.
“And that’s fine. I’m not asking for your soul now,” the Banshee says. “If you want me to take you to Draven, all I ask is that you let me be the one to collect your soul—your life—when you die.” Her grin widens as her lips curl. “Vow to me that, when you die, I can be the one to