The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,33

am awake.”

“You’re not. I swear it. This is a nightmare and we need to get the hell out of here.”

“I—I can’t.”

I won’t leave her. I could push myself out of the dream, but Whitley would be left to deal with whatever this is alone.

Chanting in the Old Fae language, the coven starts a spell.

And that’s when I know we’re fucked.

Even if Whitley’s imagination could’ve created a place similar to Dawn and Dusk by pure coincidence, she couldn’t possibly know the words the witches are speaking.

Have they invaded her mind?

As the chant is spoken a second time, I feel power rising, creating a forcefield around us. Trapping us in with them.

We can’t get away.

“What do you want?” My deep voice booms across the meadow.

Most would be intimidated. Not these trolls. They don’t answer. They just keep chanting.

“Don’t be cowards,” I goad them. “Don’t hide behind your robes and your magic. I’ll ask you one more time, and I expect an answer. What. Do. You. Want?”

Their voices stop, and they all remove their hoods, revealing their scarred eye sockets.

Whitley gasps at the gruesome sight.

As they start chanting again, I do a quick headcount.

“There’s only eight,” I mutter, dread coming over me. “Where’s the ninth?”

Just as I’ve voiced the question, I hear the nocking of an arrow and a bow string being pulled tight.

That’s when I see her. The missing witch. She’s standing on a thick branch about thirty yards away, and her aim is on point.

“No!” I yell, spinning us as I push Whitley to the ground.

Blinding pain rips through me as the arrow enters my back and comes out through my chest. I drop to my knees and tear my shirt down the middle.

Whitley screams.

Looking down, I see the wooden rod. Wet with my blood. Protruding from my body. I break it, then I reach over my shoulder to pull it out of my back.

I shouldn’t be able to feel pain here, but I’ve never experienced anything more agonizing than this. Black blood begins oozing from the wound.

“An iron arrow,” I rasp.

The sting is familiar. I’ve been cut, sliced, stabbed, and impaled by iron before. Never in the heart, though.

Until now.

The organ spasms, and the burning spreads outward in my veins with every thump. Overtaken by pain, I crumple to the ground.

“Damon.” Whitley sobs as she kneels beside me. “Are you going to die?”

“Iron poisoning,” I grunt, though she doesn’t know it means certain death. An excruciating one, at that.

“What do I do? Damon, tell me what to do!”

“Wake up.” I cough, and I taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth. “Wake up!”

Whitley

Gasping, I sit up in the bed. Cold sweat beads on my forehead, and when I touch my cheeks, I realize they’re wet with tears.

“Whitley, what the fuck was that?”

I jump at the sound of Damon’s voice, but as soon as I see him—safe and not dying—I collapse on top of him, sighing with relief. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was—I was—”

Devastated. Utterly heartbroken. The feelings I had for him in the dream didn’t make sense, but they were still very real. I loved him. He was everything to me.

“I’m fine.” His fingers splay out on my back, but they’re trembling.

Slipping my hand into his shirt, I slide my palm up his stomach. I can’t even appreciate how fantastic his abs are because I’m too busy checking for an injury. When I get to his sternum, I almost expect to find a gaping wound, but there’s just warm skin.

Relieved tears fill my eyes, and they soak his shirt when I rest my forehead on his chest. The thumping of his heart is strong and fast, matching the beat of mine.

Gripping my chin, Damon lifts my face. “Want to tell me what happened just then?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I’m scared.”

“It was just a nightmare, baby.” He rubs my arm reassuringly. “Everything’s all right now.”

“I think we both know that isn’t true.” I look into his unfocused eyes. “I can still feel the grass under my feet. I can smell the sweetness in the air. The sound the arrow made when it went through your body…” I make a distressed noise. “We were there, Damon.”

“Astrid might have answers for us.”

After that dream, I’m not sure I’m a fan of any witch. “She’s kind of intimidating.”

Chuckling, Damon pats my butt. “She’s harmless. Well.” He moves his head from one side to the other. “Harmless to us, anyway.”

When we get to Astrid’s room, she’s already expecting us. She