The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,13

then, only family is permitted to see the patient.”

“I am family.”

Another truth.

“And your relation to the patient is…?” There’s a rustling of papers.

“I’m Whitley’s fiancé.”

“You’re not listed here. She wasn’t wearing a ring when she was brought in.”

“That’s because I haven’t proposed yet.”

I finally glance over my shoulder, and the nurse makes a flustered sound when she sees my face. I resist the urge to smirk. I love having that effect on people. I didn’t gain the nickname pretty boy for nothing. My good looks have been an advantage in the past, and I’ll use them now if I have to.

I drag my thumb over my bottom lip, drawing her attention there. “I’ve been planning to ask Whitley for a long time. It’s all about waiting for the right moment.”

“She’s a lucky woman, then.” She goes to Whitley’s other side to check one of the monitors. “Are you sure she’ll say yes?”

“I am.”

“How long have you been together?”

Pausing, I think about how to answer her with honesty.

I hate lying. Deceit is different for fae than it is for humans. For us, a lie has consequences—not the kind you can touch or see. Something happens to us on the inside. A mark on our soul. We grow darker. If we betray others, we betray ourselves as well.

“Our love can’t be measured in time,” I reply. “Whitley has always been mine, just as I’ve always been hers.”

“That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I wish I knew where to find a guy like you.” The woman sighs. “But I’m afraid I still have to ask you to leave.”

“What’s your name?” I ask, stalling as I draw little circles on Whitley’s palm.

“Sonia.”

“How long have you been a doctor?”

“Oh, I’m not—I’m a nurse.”

“You’re very good at it,” I compliment. “Have you worked here long?”

“I just graduated last year, so only eight months.”

The portal starts whining. It’s a high-pitched sound between a ring and a groan. That’s my cue to go, but I can’t jump through it with the nurse hanging around.

“Sonia.” I lift my gaze to her face, estimating where her eyes are by her voice. “When will Whitley be well again?”

I know she won’t have the answer I want, and that clearly makes her uncomfortable.

Fidgeting, she shifts from one foot to the other. “The patient is in critical condition. I’d have to talk to the doctor about that.”

“Could you?” I send a charming grin in her direction. “That would be wonderful. Thank you for offering.”

Her mouth opens, then shuts. She wants to tell me it isn’t possible, and I can almost smell her fear and apprehension. Maybe she’s afraid she’ll get into trouble if I’m in here.

It doesn’t matter. By the time she comes back, I’ll be gone.

“It’d really mean a lot to me,” I insist. “My sanity is on the line.”

The whining gets louder, and I know I don’t have much time. Maybe thirty seconds.

Finally, Sonia blows out a breath. “Okay. I’ll see if Doctor Barbury has a moment.”

As soon as she’s gone, I scoot back and stand. My heart spasms, like it’s protesting at the idea of parting from Whitley.

I pat my chest. “Calm down, little buddy. I don’t like it either.”

Bowing my head, I find Whitley’s chin with my thumb. Then I lean down and replace it with my lips, kissing the spot. “Soon, we’ll be together.”

I inhale her scent one more time before feeling around the bandage on her head. Sifting through the hair at her temple, I pull a strand, just as Astrid requested.

Three long strides and a dive later, I make it through the portal before it vanishes.

I land face-down on one of Astrid’s rugs. The braided ropes are silky beneath my palms and I immediately push myself up. She might treasure those things, but they give me heebie-jeebies, even if half of them are made from my own hair.

“Cutting it close.” Astrid clucks her tongue, but she lets out a happy sigh when she takes the strand of hair from me. “Such a pretty color.”

My chest puffs with pride as I follow her to her worktable. Yes, my mate is stunning. Whitley’s beauty rivals anyone in Valora, which is remarkable for a human. Fae tend to be naturally attractive. It’s just who we are. Maybe it’s magic. Or maybe it’s more scientific, having to do with our evolution and our vital need to be irresistible to others.

“Whitley won’t have any trouble blending in here,” I spout confidently. “Speaking of that. What do you see in