Dreamfever Page 35

“He’s been missing for two months?” I was horrified. Where was the young, sexy Scotsman? Don’t let him be in Faery, I thought, being made Pri-ya! He had just the kind of extraordinary good looks that appealed to the Fae. I hated asking the next question. “Do we know if he’s alive? Does either of you have some mystical way of determining that?”

They shook their heads.

I sighed heavily and rubbed my eyes. Damn. Christian was the only man I’d met since arriving in Dublin that I’d actually trusted—well, more than anyone else, at least—and now he was gone. I refused to believe he was dead. That would be giving up on him. I would never give up on any of my humans.

Not only did I like him, I needed him. He was a walking lie detector. His ability to discern truth from fiction was a talent I’d been itching to put to use. And it was these two standing in this very room that I’d wanted to test it on. I narrowed my eyes. How very convenient for both of them that he’d disappeared when he had.

I was worried for Christian. I was disappointed that I’d lost the opportunity to force some answers.

But I hadn’t lost all my opportunities.

“Get your things,” Barrons said. “Let’s go. Now.”

“MacKayla comes with me,” said V’lane. “You cannot protect her parents. You cannot sift. She will not choose you.”

There was enough testosterone in the room for an entire army of men, and I wasn’t immune to it. Even without glamour, V’lane was more seductive than any human male alive. And Barrons—well, the body remembered and reveled in every moment of it. The two of them turning it up at the same time made it a little hard to breathe.

I looked from one to the other, considering my options. They watched in silence, waiting for me to make my choice.

I stepped toward Barrons.

His dark gaze glittered with triumph. I could feel the smugness rolling off him, nearly as strong as the sexual charge he was throwing my way.

“Think hard and fast,” V’lane hissed. “It would be unwise to alienate me, MacKayla.”

I was thinking hard and fast.

I closed my hand around Barrons’ forearm. He could not have looked more pleased if I’d just gazed up at him with doe eyes and told him he was my world.

I locked my hand down, dug my nails into his flesh, and held on.

His eyes narrowed, then flared, and then I was no longer seeing him at all, because I’d pushed, pushed, pushed violently, stabbed myself brutally deep into his mind with the special sidhe-seer talent that had fully wakened in his bed.

I wanted answers. I wanted to know why there was so much animosity between these two. I wanted to know who to trust, who was not the better man but at least the slightly less-bad one.

I pushed, seeking any breach I could exploit, and suddenly I was—

In Faery!

It had to be. The scenery was impossibly lush, the colors too rich, vivid, so full of tone they had texture, like that first beach V’lane had taken me to months ago, where I’d played volleyball with Alina, when he’d given me the gift of seeing her again, if only in an illusion. But this was no beach—this was the Fae court!

Brilliantly colored silk chaises were scattered around a dais. Trees sprouted leaves and flowers of incomprehensible color and dimension. The breeze smelled of jasmine and sandalwood and some other scent that I imagined heaven—if such a place existed—would smell like.

I wanted to look around. I wanted to see the queen on her dais, but I couldn’t turn my/our gaze toward it because I was a passenger in his head, and I was—

Inside Barrons’ body.

I was strong.

I was cold.

I was mighty, and they didn’t even know just how mighty I was.

They didn’t recognize me, the fools.

I was danger.

I was everything they should fear, but they’d lived so long that they’d forgotten fear. I would teach them.

I would remind them.

I was with a Fae Princess, buried deep inside her. She throbbed around me. She was energy, she was empty, she was sex that devoured. Her nails were on my shoulders, clawing. I was more pleasure than any of her princes could ever be. I was full. I was inexhaustible. It was why she’d sought me. Word had spread, as I’d meant it to, and, bored, jaded, she’d come for me, as I’d known she would.

I’d spent months at court, in her bed, watching, learning, studying the Seelie court. Seeking answers. Hunting the bloody damned Book.

But now I was bored, and I’d learned all there was to know from them, because they were fools who drank again and again from a mystical cauldron to make themselves forget. As if forgetting eradicated the sin.

I needed them to remember.

They couldn’t.

But I could make them remember fear.

V’lane was watching me, as he’d been watching me from the moment I’d taken his princess, waiting for her to be his again, certain she would; after all, they were immortal. They were gods. They were invincible. Waiting for that moment when I was no longer her protected plaything so he could destroy me.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

I dug my nails into Barrons’ arm and cried out.

He was fighting me. Resisting. He’d shoved me out of the princess’s body, sent me tumbling, end over end, from his memory at the Fae court.

I was on the fringes of his mind, reeling from the unexpected ejection.

I gathered myself, forged myself into a missile of sheer will, and fired back at the blockade he’d erected. I’M NOT DONE YET!

I ricocheted off a smooth black wall and knew instantly it was impenetrable. He was stronger than me. I couldn’t get through it. I would end up ramming myself to death on it if I tried.

But I wasn’t about to admit defeat. I harnessed the velocity of that ricochet like a boomerang, made a last-minute course adjustment, and veered sideways.

Whatever was behind that wall would remain concealed, but I could get something else. I knew I could.

And suddenly there I was again, standing—

At Fae court, looking down at the princess—

Barrons slammed a wall up in front of me. But not fast enough.

I blasted through it.

I was Barrons and she was on the ground and I was laughing—

He slammed up another wall but didn’t get it reinforced fast enough.

I toppled it.

The bitch was dead.

He slammed one more wall up. Too little, too late.

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