The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,17

to my forehead, blinking rapidly to clear my darkening vision. But it’s no use. Within seconds, the walls are disintegrating all around us, stealing the light.

I glance at Damon’s fearful expression. “I don’t think that’s ever happened in my dreams before. Is it bad?”

“It sure as shit isn’t good.”

“Am I dying?”

“You’re not allowed to,” Damon orders harshly, holding me impossibly tight. “I forbid it, Whitley. Do you hear me?”

A floating sensation overwhelms my body. I know I’m still standing on my feet—I certainly can’t go anywhere with Damon anchoring me like this—but a part of me is leaving. As the black substance continues to fill the room, more of my consciousness slips away.

“Maybe you really are an angel,” I whisper up at him. “Could we be together in heaven?”

“Stop talking like that.”

Sadness seeps in. “Don’t be mad. I don’t think I could stand it if you were angry with me.”

“Just don’t close your eyes. Fight it. Fight for me. For us.”

“I’m so tired.” My eyelids droop and my tongue feels like it weighs ten pounds.

“No. Please,” Damon begs, a hysterical sob escaping. “I’ll stay here with you. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t leave.”

“S-sorry,” I slur, blinking at the most perfect face I’ve ever seen. As far as last sights go, I got a good one. “We woulda had beautiful babies.”

“No! Don’t go.” He squeezes me harder.

I try to keep my eyes open, but the darkness creeps in anyway.

The last thing I hear before everything goes black is Damon’s gut-wrenching wail.

Damon

“NOOO!” I wake screaming, holding onto nothing but my own torso. “No, no, no.”

Agony rips through my chest as I roll over.

She can’t be gone.

She can’t.

But the shadows have come before. Four times, to be exact. And every one of those times, people died in their sleep while I was dream walking.

I haven’t truly cried since I was a child, but tears of helplessness and devastation fill my eyes. Wet drops stream down my cheeks and nose, soaking my pillow.

Damn the witches. Damn the fucking curse. Damn this lonely life I’ve had.

Maybe it’s over. This is how my story ends—almost getting everything I ever wanted. Almost kissing my mate. Almost saving her but failing.

Flopping onto my back, I wipe at my face. With the motion, something rattles inside my shirt.

Whitley’s whistle.

I wrap my fingers around it and try to find a way back into her head. Nothing happens, but I try again. I keep trying until my brain throbs from the strain.

Roaring with frustration, I sit up.

Birds chirp happily outside my window. Dawn is here. It’s a new day, and every creature in this realm gets to enjoy it but me.

Suddenly, I have the undeniable urge to destroy shit. To break everything I can get my hands on.

My bed seems like a good place to start. Leaping forward, I grab one of the four posts. Wood chips go flying as I snap it in half. The thick column is heavy and solid in my grip.

I can use it to do more damage.

Swinging it like a club, I make quick work of the other posts, basking in the destruction I’m causing. Every impact fuels my anger. Instead of satiating my rage, each loud crack takes it up a notch.

When I bust my nightstand, all the contents inside scatter. Trinkets belonging to other people, objects I used to search for Whitley—the insignificant pieces clatter and clink on the stone floor.

I should burn them all.

I resent the countless nights I spent dream walking, because those were all moments I could’ve been with her.

But we were kept apart until it was too late.

Now I’ll never know true happiness or love. I won’t see dusk over Issika Lake through my own eyes. My soul will ache for all eternity.

What else can I ruin? The couch in front of the fireplace.

With all the strength I can muster, I bring the post down on the furniture. It breaks with a satisfying crunch, and when my weapon hits the floor, the stone splits between my bare feet.

The windows are next.

Stalking across the room, I’m anticipating the shatter of glass when someone yanks the post from my hand.

I recognize the scent of my cousin. He might be my family, but right now, he’s the enemy. Everyone is.

I aim a punch at his face, but he ducks out of the way.

“What the fuck, Kirian?” I pant. “Get out. Leave me be.”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll stick around.”

His calm tone just pisses me off more. “I mean it. I don’t