Dreamfever (Fever #4)

by Karen Marie Moning

“I do not know that word!” My hands are fists; my nails hurt me. “They took your will. They took your power. They made you feel helpless. Lost. Alone. Dead inside.” “You should have been there!” I snarl, but I have no idea why. I was never at a church. I am shaking violently. I feel like I might explode. He drops to the floor on his knees in front of me and grabs my shoulders. “I know I should have!” he snarls back. “How the fuck many times do you think I’ve relived that night?” I beat at him with my fists, hard. I punch him and punch him. “Then why weren’t you?” I shout. He does not resist my blows. “It is complicated.” “‘Complicated’ is just another word for ‘I screwed up and am making excuses!’” I yell. “Fine. I screwed up!” he yells back. “But I only ended up stuck in Scotland because you asked me to go help the bloody damned MacKeltars!” “And there you go making excuses!” I stare at him, furious, ...

never do what I tell you to do. Where the fuck was your fairy little prince? Why didn’t he save you?” “I do not know those words—fairy, prince.” They burn my tongue. I hate them. “You do, too! V’lane. Remember V’lane? Was he there, Mac? Was he at the church? Was he?” He shakes me. “Answer me!” When I say nothing, he repeats in that strange multilayered voice he sometimes uses, “Was V’lane there when you were raped?” V’lane failed me, too. I needed him and he did not come. I shake my head. His grip on my shoulders relaxes. “You can do this, Mac. I’m here. You’re safe now. It’s okay to remember. They can never hurt you again.” Oh, yes, they could. I will not remember, and I will never leave this room. Here there are things that keep the monsters away. I need those things. Right now. His body. His lust. Erases it all. I push him back on the floor, frantic with need. He responds savagely. We explode at each other, grabbing fistfuls of hair, kissing, grinding ...

inside me, in my anger I push, push, push back at him with that magic place inside my head, because I am sick of him stirring up things inside me. It is my turn to stir things up inside him, and —we are in his body, both of us, and we are killing violently, and our cock is hard while we do it. It never felt good to kill before. It never felt bad, either, but now it exhilarates. Now it is power, it is lust, it is being alive. The children are dead, the woman cold, the man dying. Bones crunch, blood sprays— He knows I am there. He shoves me out with such violence that it flattens my magic completely. I am awed by...

Who the fuck are you? With an explosive inhalation, I snap upright in bed, and my eyes fly open—like coming alive after being dead and interred in a coffin. I am Mac. And I’m back.

I was mad as hell. I had so many grievances that I didn’t even know where to begin listing them. I was pissed-off walking. Or rather pissed-off sitting, tangled in crimson silk sheets that smelled like somebody’d been having a sexathon. That would be me. And that made me even madder. Just when you think your life has gotten as crappy as it can get, it goes and gets crappier. Gee, Mac doesn’t get to have a choice about having sex with someone. Good-bye: dating, flirting, and building up to that special romantic moment. Hello: I’m getting screwed senseless, and then, when I’ve gotten about as low as I can get, I’m getting screwed back to my senses—although I wouldn’t in a million years admit any such thing to the man who was no doubt feeling impossibly smug that, by the power of his sexuality alone, he’d rescued me from the mindless state it had

taken multiple Unseelie death-by-sex Fae to drag me to, kicking and screaming. If I knew Jericho Barrons, he was walking around feeling like his dick was the most huge, magnificent, perfect, important creation under the sun. Which—I winced—I vaguely recalled telling him a time or two. Well … maybe several times. I yanked the sheets up over my breasts with a snarl. The animal I’d been recently hadn’t left me. She was still in me and would be forever. I was glad. I welcomed her feral nature. Pink Mac had needed a good dose of savagery. It was a savage world out there. I was coldly glad to be alive, glad that I lived another day, no matter the methods by which it had been accomplished. I was also seething, furious at everyone I’d met and everything that had happened to me since the moment I’d left Ashford, Georgia. Nothing had gone as planned. Not one thing. My sister’s murderer was supposed to be a human monster that I was going to bring to justice, either via Ireland’s Garda or by my own methods. I wasn’t supposed to get caught up in a deadly war between the human race and a supernatural, supersexed, immortal, and mostly invisible race, little more than a weapon to be used by whoever

could figure out how to manipulate me most effectively. And that was only the beginning of the many, many things that had gone wrong. Speaking of manipulative bastards … What was the point of Barrons’ stamping a tattoo on the back of my skull if he hadn’t been able to use it to find me when I needed help the most? What was the point of V’lane embedding his name in my tongue if, at the crucial moment, it wouldn’t work? Weren’t Barrons and V’lane supposed to be the most powerful, dangerous, brilliant players of all? That was why I’d allied myself with them! But both had failed me when I’d needed them the most. I’d counted on them. I’d believed Barrons could find me. I’d believed V’lane would instantly appear when summoned. I’d believed Inspector Jayne could help me with certain problems. Those three had been the extent of my diversification. And who’d saved me? Dani. A thirteen-year-old kid. A girl. She’d blasted in, plucked me right out of the LM’s ...

abbey that weren’t accessible. They were in me. I could feel them, deep, dark, secreted away in a mind that had been impressionable but uncomprehending. They weren’t exactly memories, because memory is stored by a brain that functions and mine hadn’t during those traumatic hours. More like imprints. Photographs snapped but not understood. Conversations overheard. Things seen. It would take work to dredge them from the muck at the bottom of my psyche. But I would. The LM hadn’t expected me to ever escape. Rowena hadn’t expected me to live. “Surprise,” I purred. “I did.” I tossed back the sheet and pushed up from the bed. My body felt good. It was sleeker, stronger than I remembered it being. I stretched and glanced down, then blinked, admiring myself. Gone was all softness, save my breasts and butt. My calves, thighs, arms, stomach—all were toned, shaped by smooth, sleek muscle. I flexed a bicep. I had one. Long fingernails dug into my ...

shape? What had we been doing? Constant sexual gymnastics? I shut down that thought. I had a few too many memories that weren’t remotely blurry, and they gave rise to impossibly conflicting emotions. Like: Thanks for saving me, Barrons—too bad I’m going to have to kill you for doing those things to me and seeing me like that. I’d had sex with Jericho Barrons. Not just sex. Incredibly raw, intensely intimate, completely uninhibited sex. I’d done everything a woman could do with a man. I’d pretty much worshipped every inch of him. And he’d let me. Oh, no, much more than that—he’d enthusiastically participated. He’d egged me on. He’d plunged right into my animalistic frenzy with me, met me move for move in that dark lust-crazed cave where I’d been living. I turned to stare at the big silk-sheeted bed. It was exactly the kind of bed I’d expect Barrons to sleep in. Sun King ornate, four-postered, draped in silk and velvet; a sensual masculine lair. There were fur-lined hand...

minuscule sliver of an instant, while looking at those handcuffs, I’d imagined myself climbing back into bed and pretending I wasn’t cured yet. And I’d thought interacting with Barrons had been difficult before. Since the day we’d met, we’d maintained a careful wall of non-intimacy between us and rarely slipped. I was Ms. Lane. He was Barrons. That wall had been blasted to dust, and I hadn’t had anything to say about it. We’d fast-forwarded from formal and testy most of the time to See Mac Bare All/Body & Soul, without a single ounce of relationship progression along the way. He’d seen me at my absolute worst, my most vulnerable, while he’d been in complete control, and I still didn’t really know a damned thing about him. We’d gotten as close as two human beings—well, overlooking the fact that he wasn’t one—possibly could. Now, in addition to wondering whether he’d spiked the Orb of D’Jai with deadly Shades before he’d given it to me to give to the sidhe-seers and whether he’d sabotaged the ritual at the MacKeltars’ on Hallo...

walk out of an Unseelie mirror carrying the savaged, very dead body of a young woman. Had he killed her just for fun? My intuition wasn’t buying it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure what my intuition was worth where he was concerned. If there was one thing I’d learned about Barrons, it was that speculating about him was as pointless as tap-dancing on quicksand, with no solid ground in sight. Speaking of solid ground … I glanced around. I was below it. I can feel belowground in my bones. I hate being there. I hate confined, windowless spaces. Yet, for a time, this space belowground had been my harbor in a brutal storm. What had happened to Dublin while I’d been Pri-ya, clawing my way back to sanity? What had happened to the world? How was Ashford? Were Mom and Dad okay? Had anyone gotten the Book? What was happening out there with all the Unseelie free? Was Aoibheal, Queen of the Seelie, okay, or had the Unseelie got...

me after all and that was one of those confused imprints, and the LM had taken my spear and— My fingers clenched on emptiness. Oh, God, where was my spear? The ancient Spear of Destiny was one of only two weapons known to man that was capable of killing an immortal Fae. I remembered throwing it away. I remembered it hissing and steaming at the foot of a basin of holy water. Where had it gone from there? Was it possible it was still lying there, in the church? Could I be so lucky? I needed it back. Once I had it, I could get to work on other things. Like figuring out how the Unseelie Princes had managed to turn it against me at the critical moment. True to Fae lore—which held that the Unseelie couldn’t touch any of the Seelie Hallows, and vice versa—they hadn’t been able to physically take it from me, but they’d managed to coerce me into turning it on myself, forcing me to choose between stabbing myself with it or tossing it, putting me completely at their mercy. I not only...

“Dude!” she said reverently. “With Barrons? You been having sex this whole time? S’that how he got you back from Nympho-land? I was so worried when you didn’t come back. Guess I shouldn’t a been. I couldn’t find you anywhere. Where’d he take you? I been hunting all over Dublin for you every chance I could duck under Ro’s radar. Which wasn’t often,” she said sourly, then immediately brightened.

“You gotta tell me everything! Everything!”

I’m back.” “You had sex with Barrons and you aren’t going

to tell me one thing about it?” She looked incredulous.

“Nothing? Not even one tiny little detail?” Oh, God. She was so thirteen. What was I going to d...

“Not about … you know … him.” I gave her a sharp look. She

looked positively doe-eyed. Dani—tough, punk Dani—looked like she’d gone soft at the knees. I was flabbergasted. “You’ve got a crush on Barrons now? I thought it was V’lane you were so crazy about.” “Him, too. But when Barrons came and pulled you out of here, dude, you shoulda seen the way he looked at you!” “I’m not a dude. Lose it.” I was not going to ask. “So, how did he look at me?” “Like it was his birthday and you were the cake.” At least he hadn’t smashed this one into the ceiling. It seemed Barrons had finally gotten his cake and eaten it, too. I winced. I refused to entertain that metaphor further. Barrons-thoughts were far too complicated

“My ass.” “Is far more shapely than last I saw it.” “She’s been working out.” Dani snickered. “You have no business looking at it,” I said. “But Barrons does?” The temperature in the room dropped sharply.

breath frosted the air. “We are not talking about Barrons.” We were never going to talk about Barrons. “I’d like to talk about Barrons,” said Dani. “You chose,” V’lane said coldly. “I chose nothing. I was out of my mind. Is that what this is about, V’lane? Barrons? You sound jealous. Possessive.” “He does,” Dani agreed.

“Not now, old woman,” I tossed over my shoulder coldly. “I need sleep.” “Funny. You didn’t seem to need so much a few days ago.”

felt the blood drain from my face. I wasn’t ready for this confrontation. I might never be ready for it. “In fact, sleep was the last thing on your mind,” he said tightly. He was angry. I could hear it in his voice. What was he angry about? I was the one who’d been through the emotional wringer. My hands curled into fists, my breathing grew shallow. I trusted him no more today than I had two months ago. “Fucking was all you wanted.” It was what I wanted right now, too, I was horrified to realize. His voice worked on me like an aphrodisiac. I was wet and ready. I had been since he began speaking. For two months, I’d been trapped in a Fae-induced sexual frenzy, having constant, incredible sex with him, while listening to his voice, smelling his scent. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, I’d been conditioned by repeated stimuli to have

guaranteed response. My body anticipated, greedily expected pleasure in h...

caught myself straining for the scent of him, forced it back out, and closed my eyes, as if maybe I could hide behind my own lids from an ironic truth: V’lane and Barrons had swapped roles. I was no longer sexually vulnerable to the death-by-sex Fae Prince. Jericho Barrons was my poison now. I wanted to punch something. Lots of somethings. Starting with him. “Cat got your tongue? And what a lovely tongue it is. I know. It licked every inch of me. Repeatedly. For months,” he purred, but there was steel in the velvet. I locked my jaw and turned, bracing myself for the sight of him. It was worse than I expected. I was nearly flattened by erotic images. My hands on his f...

Enough images. I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus on his eyes. It wasn’t much better. Barrons and I have wordless conversations. And right now he was reminding me, in graphically lush detail, of everything we’d done in that big Sun King bed of his. He’d especially enjoyed the handcuffs. I had as many memories of his tongue as he had of mine. He’d never offered turnabout as fair play, even though I’d asked plenty. I’d never understood why. We’d both known nothing so flimsy could hold whatever he was. Now that I was clearheaded again, I understood. Even if it was only illusory, he was not a man to tolerate dominance. It was all about control with him. He never relinquished it. And that was a huge part of what chafed so badly, burned like salt in an open wound. I’d been completel...

He’d never lost control....

You told me I was your world. “It wasn’t me. I was an animal.” My heart pounded. My cheeks burned. You never wanted it to end. “Why are you being such a jackass, slamming me in the face with my own humiliation?” Humiliation? That’s what you call this? He forced a more detailed reminder on me. I swallowed. Yes, I certainly remembered that. “I was out of my mind. I’d never have done it otherwise.” Really, his dark eyes mocked, and in them I was demanding more, telling him I wanted it to always be this way. I remembered what he’d replied: that one day I would wonder if it was possible to hate him ...

His glittering gaze went flat black, opaque as mud, the images died. Beneath his left eye, a tiny muscle contracted, smoothed, contracted again. That minute betrayal was Barrons’ equivalent of a normal person having a hissy fit. “Rape isn’t something—” “You walk away from,” I cut him off. “I know. I get it now. Okay?” “You crawl. You were crawling when I found you.” “Your point?” “You walked away from me. Stronger for it.” “Point?” I gritted. I was tired, impatient, and I wanted the bottom line. “Making sure we’re on the same page,” he clipped. His eyes were dangerous. ...

I pressed. “You made me capable of walking again the only way you could. It had nothing to do with me. That’s what you’re saying, right?” He stared at me, and I had the feeling our conversation had taken a wrong turn somewhere, that it could have gone a completely different way, but I couldn’t think of how it might have or where it had strayed. He brought his head down, completing the nod. “Right.” “Then we’re on the same page. Same paragraph, same sentence,” I snapped. “Same bloody word,” he agreed flatly. I felt like crying and hated myself for it. Why couldn’t he have said something nice? Something that wasn’t about sex. Something about me. Why had he come in here all stalking and shoving in my face that we’d been in each other’s skin? Would it hav...

Means to an end. That was all it had been for him. The silence lengthened. I searched his eyes. There wasn’t a single word to be found in them. Finally, he gave me a faint smile. “Ms. Lane,” he said coolly, and those two words spoke volumes. He was offering me formality. Distance. A return to the way things had been, as if nothing else had ever passed between us. A façade of civility that made us able to work together when we had to. I’d be a fool not to accept it. “Barrons.” I sealed the deal. Had I ever told this enigmatic, cold man that he was my world? Had he really demanded I say it, over and over? “Why are you here? What do you want?” I was exhausted, and our little run-in was swiftly depleting my last stores of energy. “You might start by thanking me.” There was that dangerous look in his eyes again, as if he felt taken advantage of. He felt taken advantage of? I was the one wh...

from something you failed to save me from to begin with.” I’d asked Dani on the way back to the abbey when he and his men had broken me out. She’d said late in the evening on November 4. Why? Where had he been, and why not with me? He lifted a shoulder, shrugged, grace and power in an elegant Armani suit. “You look fine to me. In fact, you’re better than fine, aren’t you? You walked right through my wards, without a word. Didn’t even leave a note by the bedside. Really,” he mocked, “after all we shared, Ms. Lane.” He gave me a wolf smile, all teeth and promise of blood. “But do I get any thanks for doing the impossible and bringing you back from being Pri-ya? No. What do I get?” He eyed me coldly. “You steal my guns.” “You snooped in my bus!” I said indignantly. “I’ll snoop anywhere I ...

I mirrored the move, without conscious thought at all, as if our bodies were connected by puppet strings. Lunged forward, froze. Fisted my hands at my sides. They wanted to touch him. I looked down. His hands were fisted, too. I uncurled my hands and crossed my arms. He crossed his at exactly the same moment. We both practically flung them down at our sides. We stared at each other. The silence lengthened. “Why did you take my guns?” he said finally. His question snapped me fully awake again. I was dangerously tired. “I needed them. Figured it was the least you could give up after all the sex you got,” I added, with flippancy I did...

“And you know it.” “You’re the one who’s out of control,” I said, just to irritate him. “I’m never out of control.” “Are, too.” “Am—” He broke off and looked away. Then, disbelievingly, “Bloody hell, have you learned nothing?” “What was I supposed to learn, Barrons?” I demanded. My temper, already a frayed rope, snapped. “That it’s a sucky world out there? That people will take everything from you that matters, if you let them? That if you want something, you’d better hurry and get it, because odds are somebody else wants it, too, and if they can beat you to it they will? Or was I supposed to learn that it’s not only okay to kill but sometimes it can be downright fun? That was a real kicker to find inside your head. Want to tal...

or steal, it all comes out in the wash. Isn’t that what you think? That emotion is weakness and cunning priceless? Wasn’t I supposed to become like you? Wasn’t that the point?” I was shouting, but I didn’t care. I was furious. “That was never the point,” he snarled, moving toward me. “Then what was it? What the bloody hell was the point? Tell me there was some kind of point to all this!” I snarled back, stepping toward him. We charged each other like bulls. An instant before we collided, I shouted, “Did you help the LM turn me Pri-ya just to make me ...

He stared down at me, and for a split second I saw a completely unguarded look in his eyes. No. He hadn’t. Not only hadn’t he, this … man, for lack of a better word … who enjoyed killing, was horrified by the thought of it. A terrible tension inside me eased. Breath came more easily. I stayed on the floor, too drained to get back up. There was another of those long, strained silences. I sighed. He took a deep breath. Released it. “I would have given you the guns,” he said finally. “I should have asked for them,” I admitted grudgingly. “But then you probably would have spiked them with something deadly, same way you did the Orb, and I’d have gotten blamed for that, too,...

There was another long silence. He slid a bag from his shoulder, dropped it at my feet. It was my backpack. “Where’d you get that? I didn’t see it in the room when I left, and I hunted for it.” I’d wondered where it had gone. “Found it here at the abbey while I was waiting for you to get back.” I frowned. “How long have you been here?” “Since late last night. I spent all day yesterday trying to find you. By the time I tracked you here, you’d left again. Easier to wait for you to come back than waste time tracking you again.” “Doesn’t your trusty little brand work?” I rubbed the base of my skull where he’d stamped his mystical tattoo. The one that had failed me when I’d needed it. “I can sense your general ...

“IFPs. I call them Interdimensional Fairy Potholes.” He smiled faintly. “Funny girl, aren’t you?” We lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. I looked at him. He looked away. I shrugged and looked away, too. “I wasn’t—” I began. “I didn’t—” He began. “How charming,” V’lane cut us off. His voice arrived before he did. “The very portrait of human domestic bliss. She’s on ...

“As if you could,” said Barrons. “Perhaps not. But I do enjoy thinking about it.” “Bring it on, Tinker Bell.” I stood up. V’lane laughed, and the sound was angelic, celestial. Although he no longer affected me sexually, he still packed that otherworldly punch. Regal, larger than life, he would always be too beautiful for words. He was dressed differently than I’d ever seen him, and it suited his golden perfection. Like Barrons, he wore an elegant dark suit, crisp white shirt, and blood-red tie. “Get your own fashion adviser,” Barrons growled. “Maybe I decided I like your style.”

“Maybe you thought if you were more like me, she’d fuck you, too.” I flinched, but my reaction was nothing compared to V’lane’s. I was frozen for a moment, stiffer than the Tin Man without oil. I gave a full body shudder, and ice tinkled to the floor. I stepped forward, leaving my frosty casing behind. The entire library—furniture, books, floor, lamps, walls—glistened with a thin sheet of ice. The bulbs popped, one after the next. “Stop it,” I snapped, breath frosting the air. “Both of you. You’re tough guys. I get it. But I’m tired and fed up. So say whatever you came here to say, without all the posturing, then get the hell out.” Barrons laughed. “Good for you, Ms. Lane.” “Bottom-line it, Barrons. Now.” “Get your things. We’re going back to Dublin. We have work to do. The sidhe-seers didn’t save you. I did.” “It was Dani who rescued me.” “You would have died here if not for me.”

“I would have saved her,” said V’lane. “Bottom-line it, V’lane. And mop up your mess.” The ice was melting. “I’m not cleaning up after either of you. And fix the lamps. I need light.” The lamps glowed again. The library was dry. “The Book was spotted recently. I know where and can sift you about, hunting it. You can track it much more quickly with me than with him.” “And you’ll report to the Grand Mistress on our progress?” I said dryly. “I aided Rowena only to pave the way for us to continue the moment you were able. I answer to you, as always, MacKayla. Not her.” “After your queen,” I said bitterly. “The one you chose to stay with instead of rescuing me.” “You were first to me,” Barrons said. “There was no queen in front of you with ...

“I didn’t think so.” I crossed the room and moved to stand by the fireplace. It was the old-fashioned kind, made for logs, with no gas hookup. V’lane’s temper tantrum had left me chilly. It had been a cold night in Dublin, and this unused wing was minimally heated. I missed my bookstore fires. I wanted comfort. “Make me a fire, V’lane.” Flames crackled and popped from white-barked, fragrant-smelling logs before I’d even finished speaking. “I will provide for all your needs, MacKayla. You have but to ask. Your parents are well. I have seen to it. Barrons cannot give you what I can.” I rubbed my hands together, warming them. “Thank you for checking. Please continue to do so.” At some point, I wanted to...

I turned around. V’lane was on my right, Barrons at my left. I was amused to see that a sofa, four chairs, and three tables had appeared in the twenty-five feet between them. V’lane had rearranged furniture while my back was turned. As if a little furniture would stop Jericho Barrons. He could move lightning-fast, and there was no love lost between these two. For the umpteenth time, I wondered why. I knew neither of them would ever tell me. Still, there might be a way … In the meantime, while I stockpiled my flagging energy for the attempt, I said, “Bring me up to speed. What happened at the Keltars’ on Samhain?” “The ritual to maintain the walls failed,” said Barrons. “Obviously. Details.”

“We used dark magic. We tried everything. The Keltar come from a line of Druids that have long been walking a fine line. Especially Cian. Dageus and Drustan made the first attempt. When that failed, Christian and I took our turn.” “What exactly did your ‘turn’ constitute?” “Don’t ask, Ms. Lane. This time just leave it. It was the only thing we could have done that might have worked. It didn’t. It’s no longer relevant.” I dropped the subject. I’d get more detail from Christian than I’d ever get from Barrons, and I planned to see him as soon as possible. He was an integral part of my plans for the future. As if he’d read my mind, Barrons said, “Christian is gone.” I jerked. “What do you mean, gone?” “Missing. He disappeared when the Fae realm supplanted Ban Drochaid, the white stones where the Keltar perform the ritual. He was in the circle when it happened.” “Well, where did he go?” I demanded, looking from Barrons to V’lane.

“If we knew that, he wouldn’t be missing,” Barrons said dryly. “Impossible to say,” said V’lane, “although we have been searching. My queen is deeply distressed to have lost one of her Keltar Druids at such a critical time. His uncles, too, seek him.” “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 g...

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 tu...

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 b...

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 loo...

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,...

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 w...