The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,116
sounds skeptical. “But chunks of time were missing. Maybe we just didn’t see them.”
I shake my head, wondering how to go into the details without spilling too much. He can’t know that there’s a good chance I’m going to walk away from him tonight. Because he’d definitely try to stop me, and I need to let this play out. If there’s an answer to outsmarting the coven, the pieces might fall together.
“It’s not just that. A lot of parts were different.”
“Are you saying I don’t get impaled with iron?” Damon asks wryly, his question tinged with his signature humor. “’Cause that’d be the tits.”
I love him even more for being a cocky shit when he’s facing possible impending doom. “Not that I saw but stay alert.”
“So what happens instead?”
I’d hoped he wouldn’t ask. Evading seems like the way to go.
“Maybe you should wear this just in case.” I motion to the invisible sheet. “If the witches can’t see you, then they can’t shoot you.”
Damon gazes down at me with a soft look when he grasps my chin. “You’re forgetting they don’t have eyes. They can’t see anything anyway.”
Oh. Right. It’s hard to remember because the witch who shot him in my dream had really good aim. Then again, so did Damon when he was blind.
Making a frustrated sound, I twist away from him and place the sheet on a flat rock. “I just feel desperate and crazy and scared.”
“Whitley, you’re the bravest person I know.”
I scoff. “That can’t be true.”
He cups my cheeks. “It is.”
Roaming his face, I look for signs of dishonesty and find none. His confidence gives mine a boost, and I pull him down for one more kiss before we confront the coven.
I want to make it count. Gripping his shirt, I kiss him with all the passion I have. Tasting him. Memorizing him. His lips are firm, yet soft at the same time. I like the way his fingers curl against my waist every time he licks into my mouth, as if he wants to claw his way into my body.
In these intimate moments, we get so lost in each other. The world could crumble around us and we’d hardly notice. Which is why I break away first. Someone has to stay on task.
Panting, I force a smile and link my arm with his. “You ready to see your parents?”
He nods once. “You’re positive they’re here now?”
“Like, ninety-nine percent. The witches definitely are. It’s weird, but I can feel their presence.” I softly tap my chest. “The oath I made is like a rubber band around my heart.”
Damon looks concerned. “Then let’s hurry. It’ll lift once they realize you kept the promise.”
My heart knocks around violently as we forge ahead with noisy strides. Leaves rustle and twigs snap under our feet as we emerge from the forest.
There’s no point in being quiet. The witches are expecting us.
Just like in the premonition I had tonight, my slippers get wet from the dewy grass. I ignore the chill running through my body as I scan the meadow.
Suddenly, there’s a bright burst in the clearing. The white-hot light temporarily blinds me like a camera flash.
“What was that?” I gasp, holding a protective hand out in front of my face.
“Lightning.” Damon sounds pissed.
“But there’s no storm. No clouds.”
“One of the witches must be able to create it.”
“Fantastic.” Blinking away the spots dancing in my vision, I point at a smoking spot among the wildflowers. “There.”
Damon and I break out into a run, and I realize the blackened grass I saw in my dream is the spot where Tehya and Silas just got electrocuted.
When we get close, Damon kneels next to them while I keep a few feet of distance. Silas and Tehya are lying on their sides, facing each other. The flowers shake with their slight jerky movements, as if they’re desperately trying to move and can’t. Tehya’s arm is slung over her mate’s waist, and their legs are intertwined. Both of them have their hair pulled back, and it exposes their human-like ears.
They’ve been gone for so long.
What a way to be welcomed back.
I’m not surprised when a raspy voice comes from the forest. “Have you come alone? Just you and the king?”
I could respond with the same sarcasm I used in my dream, but I decide not to. It’s a small act of rebellion on my part—refusing to adhere to the script is one way I can keep some semblance of control.