The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,138
Dream Realm in less than a day. I might need a little extra attention after such a strenuous trip. Think you could help me out?”
Her lips curl up. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Out of all the bargains we’ve made, this one’s definitely my favorite.
Whitley
The sprites came. They weren’t on the invite list. If they had been, they probably wouldn’t have come just to show us we don’t control them.
As I stand at the bottom of the wedding stairs, I sneak a glance up at the trees. I catch glimpses of glittery wings and brightly colored hair among the branches.
There’s a flash of pink and a secretive whisper. A hushed beautiful bride makes it to my ears.
Luna.
Smiling, I smooth my silky white dress, pretending I don’t see them while I wait for the ceremony to start. Technically, no one is supposed to see me in the gown before the wedding except one of my bridesmaids and Damon. It’s considered bad luck, but I’m just going to assume sprites don’t count.
I check the sash at my back. The white flowers in my hair. The cap sleeves over my shoulders.
Astrid already confirmed that I look perfect before leaving to take her place by the altar, but I can’t help feeling like there’s something missing.
Suddenly, I’m grabbed from behind and there’s a blade at my throat. The sharp edge is cool on my skin.
Energy crackles in my veins, the only way it does when Damon touches me. His scent is all around me.
It’s him—he’s what was missing. Now that he’s against me, I feel right, even if he does have a weapon against my jugular.
As I jerk my elbow back and connect with his ribs, he lets out a grunt, stumbles back, and drops the dagger.
When I turn, he’s rubbing his side.
“I can’t believe you’d hit a man still healing from a brush with death,” he complains.
“Pssh. Yes, you can.”
“You’re getting stronger. I might have a bruise.”
Sympathy moocher.
I cross my arms. “I didn’t realize we were scheduled for a lesson.”
My eyes travel over him slowly. His haircut has been fixed. It’s a few inches long on top and a little shaggy, reminding me of a surfer dude. Personally, I prefer it longer, but he’s assured me it’ll grow back quickly.
The white button-up shirt and tan pants only add to his laid-back, beachy vibe. As always, he’s gorgeous.
“Ah, but you see, my little carrot…” He circles me. “You should always be ready. Always alert.” When he stops, he produces a bunch of wildflowers he had hidden behind his back. “Your bouquet. I hope this isn’t too morbid, but it’s from the spot where I almost died.”
My hands shake as I take it. I’m not trembling because of where they came from. It’s what they represent that makes my emotions intensify. This moment—this day—almost didn’t happen. As Damon bled out in that meadow, fate and my love for him collided and gave us a future.
“Did you pick them yourself?”
“I did.” He smiles proudly, then tilts his head. “Why do you seem so nervous? Cold feet?”
“Of course not.” He just brought up an entirely different nerve-racking issue. “I don’t know your ways.” I motion up the stairs to where all our guests are waiting. “We haven’t even had time to rehearse.”
“Rehearse?” Damon’s eyebrows knit together. “Your people do that? Like a play?”
“No.” I pause, because when I think about it, that’s exactly how it is. “I mean, yeah, kind of. It’s just so everyone knows how to walk down the aisle, where to stand, and what to say.”
“You walk down the aisle and stop at the end of it,” Damon deadpans, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “And then you repeat the words you’re told to repeat.”
I hate that he’s right and he just blew a big hole in the logic of tradition. On the other hand, I like how he sees the world I grew up in. His view is objective, and sometimes he puts a new perspective on customs I’ve never questioned before.
“It’s pointless to pretend,” he goes on. “If I’m going to go through the ceremony, I better damn well be married to you at the end of it.”
Flustered, I wave the bouquet. “It’s just the way humans do it. So we know what to expect.”
“You want to know what I expect?” Snaking a hand around my waist, he tugs me to him. “In about ten minutes, you’re going to be my wife. Mine. Forever. That’s the only thing that matters.”