Vale of Dreams (Fey Academy for Spies, #2)

by C.N. Crawford

Raphael, who’d told me he was desperate for me the way a starving man craves fruit…

And while I’m at it, I plan to rescue Raphael, too. I need him back so badly, I can taste it, like blood on my tongue.

But what, exactly, would my beautiful lover do if he learned that it was all a mistake? That I was the one on his kill list? Would he murder me, too, or would he sheathe his blade?

He really is doing all of this for a party, isn’t he? It’s the Feyest thing ever.

“Yes. And I would have done the same for you. And then I’d probably hunt down Auberon for revenge. I’d make the worst, rashest decisions that could get a lot of people killed. I would do that for you, and my emotions would get the better of me.”

His expression is agonized, and he tears his gaze away from mine. “I can see another world where we’re together, and there’s no war and no Auberon. Where our lives spread out before us like sunlight over a vineyard, where we don’t have to risk our lives and look over our shoulders. Where no one will break our bones to wrench every last secret from us. But that’s another world, Nia. Not this one.”

“We can’t be together. We never should have been. Back in Dover, when I thought you might be captured, I would have sacrificed all of Avalon Tower for you. And here you are, on a mission by yourself, talking about hunting down the king or searching for portal keys. You could have been captured. And then what? One of our only two Sentinels, an Avalon Steel agent, would be in their dungeons. And Nia, you don’t know what it’s like…I’m lucky I didn’t break. We have to be thinking as clearly as possible in this war. We can’t have our decisions clouded by love. I don’t want you risking your life for me, Sentinel or not.” “But I made the right decision to get you out of there.” A line etches between his eyebrows. “You came here alone.” A ragged edge tinges his voice. “And believe me, I would have done the same if I thought it was the best way to get you out. Love drives us to make the most reckless decisions, but that’s not what the world needs from us. The world needs us to be thinking clearly, rationally. I appreciate that you came here for me, but I hate it, too, because you never should have risked your life. I need you to go back now, and I need us to think like trained spies again, not like lovers. We never should have broken the rules in the first place. Because…I kept replaying that day in my mind over and over, the day I was captured. Every time they were beating me or torturing me, it looped in my mind. Every stupid misstep I made. The ways I could have made a better de...

“I think Alix died because she was in love, because her mind was off the mission, because all she could think about was Rein. It ended with them both dead. Everyone knew how she felt about him. I’m not letting that happen to us. I’m not letting that happen to you.”

“Yes. And once I get back, I’ll only do what Avalon Tower needs. Not what I decide on my own, because…” His voice breaks. “It’s not how it’s supposed to work. You are the Lady of the Lake. You have to be focused. The world needs you. We need you. But we need you focused on Avalon Tower, not on me.”

“Well, Raphael, I always knew you would break my heart. It’s not the first time.” He touches my arm, his eyes burning brighter. “Nia, I just want you to be safe. Because if you end up in that dungeon, I will lose my fucking mind.”

He grabs both my hands in his. “I think I will always love you. But this is the way it has to be.”

This was always how it was going to end with Raphael, wasn’t it? With heartbreak. I knew that from the start.

The Dream Stalker stands before me, and the world tilts beneath my feet. Time seems to slow.

Talan arches a black eyebrow at me. “Well, maybe I like dangerous women.”

My blood roars. I’m alone with the Dream Stalker, a fate worse than death.

Lying works best when it is laced with truth. I can give this evil fucker a crumb.

His magic is like a silken caress that turns sharp as a serpent’s tooth, prodding at my mind. I try to block him out with my mental veil, but I feel like it’s about to shatter.

He flashes me a smile, and his face transforms in a way I hadn’t quite anticipated—so shockingly beautiful and disarming, I nearly forget what a monster he is.

“What reputation? For someone like you, a little rustic of pitiable peasant stock, getting fucked by the prince is the greatest honor you could hope for. But I’m not even ordering you to be a real mistress. I’m ordering you to fake it. And in return, you are elevated far above the station that the gods chose for you. The mistress of a handsome prince. You’ll have proximity to the throne, to real power—and all you have to do is everything I say.”

He arches a dark eyebrow. “I can see your mind running. Wondering how you should handle this. So, let me clarify. There’s only one way. My way. If you think you can disappear, I’ll remind you who I am. I’m Prince Talan de Morgan, the Dream Stalker, the man who tortures people for fun. I can find any soul in Brocéliande when they close their eyes. And unless you intend to remain eternally awake, I will always find you. Don’t make me chase you, Nia. You won’t enjoy what I’ll do when I find you.”

“What are you pouting about, wench? I thought you wanted to take down their wretched empire. What better way to do it than getting close to the prince? You share his bed, and you learn every one of their secrets. It’s a golden opportunity.” Slowly, I stand. “The man just threatened to torture me, and you think I should run back into his arms? You’re failing at parenting so far.” Though frankly, he’s not necessarily my worst parent. “You’re a spy, aren’t you?” he hisses. “I thought spies were good at spotting assets. You’re in a position to use Auberon’s own son against him. And anyway, I didn’t see him actually hurt you.”

I’m feeling oddly better about things. Maybe this is what everyone needs after a breakup: onion farming.

And if I fucked you for real, Nia, I can assure you that you would not need to fake it.” His voice is a deep, velvety whisper that sends shivers over my skin.

the next thing I know, he’s lifting me up against the tree, spreading my legs so they wrap around his waist, under his cloak. Now my dress is hitched all the way up to the top of my thighs. His hands are firm beneath my ass, and my thighs cling tightly around his waist. As his intoxicating scent wraps about me, his mouth hovers over mine. I grip him over his enormous shoulders, holding on. “Is this really necessary?” I hiss. “If I’m not mistaken, you could use actual, genuine pleasure in your life, but for now, faking it will have to do,” he whispers.

I hate the way his deep, purring voice makes my thighs clench around him. It’s an instinct, an animal part of my brain that doesn’t understand the bigger picture. The animal part of my brain wants this to be real. It wants us in the dirt, tasting each other.

Okay. Fine. Why not admit to myself that I’ve always liked hearing his dirtiest thoughts? The way he practically tortures some of the women he fucks, not letting them come, driving them insane?

For the briefest of moments, I imagine what would happen if I were one of his women. If he hiked up my skirt here in the apple orchard and did exactly whatever he wanted to me. Desire coils tightly inside me.

His lips, ever so lightly, brush against my neck, and the warmth radiates over me. My eyes close, and at the feel of his lips on my skin, the moan I let out isn’t entirely fake. But I make it louder, letting it rise out of my throat. His fingers flex under my ass, and he moves his hips into me just a little. I arch my neck like an invitation. I moan louder, letting it echo through the orchard, and his canines graze over my throat. Warmth plunges through me at the feel of his teeth on me, at the knowledge that I’m completely vulnerable to this beautiful man. My pulse races. He raises his mouth closer to mine. For just an instant, our lips brush, and he’s breathing as hard as I am. He lifts his gaze, and he stares into my eyes for a moment before pulling away a little.

I suspect that while we’re together, Talan and I will be playing a deadly game of hide and seek with each other.

Spies thrive in the shadows, and here I am, drawing attention like a firefly in the night.

When I reach Talan, he pulls me into his lap. He sits in a chair large enough to be a throne, and he drapes one of his arms around my waist. I find myself acutely aware of the steely muscles beneath his velvety suit and of the heat radiating from his hand through my thin dress, onto my skin.

“Nia, you look delicious tonight. I can almost taste you.”

Talan’s fingers tighten around me, as if he were actually protective of me.

With a hitch of my breath, I realize how much he relishes the chaos he just created.

We’re trained on Fey dances in Avalon Tower, and yet I still somehow don’t feel prepared. It’s one thing to dance with Serana or Darius under the bright lights of the training room. It’s quite another thing to dance with the Dream Stalker seconds after he slit a man’s throat, then drank his mead.

“Just keeping everyone safe from traitors and spies, my love.

I turn sharply away from her to find Talan draped over his chair, watching us with amusement. I think he likes having women fight over him.

“Has it ever occurred to you that when a prince of the Royal House of Morgan says he is going to do something, he isn’t asking for your approval or permission? I said I was going to walk you to your room, and I will. And I will send my healers for you. I do whatever the fuck I want, love, and when I die someday, I will have no regrets. It’s the privilege of being me.”

Then I tense as a familiar figure strides along one of the lower bridges between the towers. He’s so far away, I nearly miss him, but Talan has a strange way of catching the eye, as if he sucks in all the light around him.

“Don’t you ever wonder how this all came to be, Nia?” “Why don’t you just tell me things straight out?” He meets my gaze. “Because manipulation is what being Fey is all about. If you’d been raised by me, you’d know that by now.”

“Anyway, not to worry. You might loathe me, but you are mine now, and if anyone tried to burn you at the stake, I’d make them wish they were never born.”

“I’ll see you later, Talan.” When I glance back, I find his eyes locked on me. “How strange. I like the way it sounds when you say my name.”

“My little farm girl, you’re going to need to fake some interest in me.” His hand slides over my thigh, and I feel the heat of it through the translucent fabric of my dress. I whisper back. “What do you have in mind, exactly?” “Nia, love, you’re going to have to kiss me.”

It’s just a kiss. All part of the spy game, of course. Agents of Avalon Tower must do all kinds of things on our missions. Things we normally wouldn’t dream of, like kissing the enemy.

“Nia.” There’s a fierce, ragged edge in the way he whispers my name, his lips so close to mine. “I hear your heart racing. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. I think you’re interested in me after all.”

All I know is we kiss—a deep, sensual kiss—and I lose track of the world around me. Kiss? He’s savoring me, exploring me. I shift positions, straddling him, my dress hitching up to my thighs. I kiss him more deeply, and as his tongue brushes against mine, I forget where I am while an exquisite ache builds inside me. His hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me closer to him, my breasts brushing against his hard chest. He groans faintly as he kisses me.

I don’t want to admit to myself how much I want more. I’m literally here to kill this man.

“Were you ever in love?” The candlelight dances over his carved muscles. “There’s only one woman for me, and she is a figment of my imagination, a voice in my thoughts.”

“Don’t you know everyone is scared of you?” Silence falls in the darkened room. Outside, lightning cracks and thunder rolls over the horizon. “Yes,” he says quietly, “but I didn’t think you were.”

“Well, I was asleep, and I was dreaming you were a horse.” “I dread to think what you do to horses. And they say I’m depraved.”