Running.
That was all I could worry about.
The dream came hard and fast, as it always did. Every night of my life, filling my mind and strengthening my resolve.
Burning, screaming. My people dying.
The Apocalypse would come with a bang—quick, sudden, unexpected. One day things would be normal, and then…
Fire.
We were the Fire Fae, magical beings with the power of flame and heat, but when our control was stolen from us, it would all be over. The fire that made us who we were would consume us.
The seers didn’t know how it would happen, or when exactly, but I could see the results in the flames. A future that would happen if I didn’t stop it.
My beautiful homeland on Dartmoor, a place of windswept hills that crested to form rocky points called tors would be devastated by the flame that we possessed.
I watched it in my dream—the fire racing over the hillside, devouring the colorful gorse and heather, yellow and purple going up in a blaze of red. Ancient stone monuments blackened under the tongues of flame.
Then it reached the people.
My friends and family, burning. Our homes trapping them inside. Screaming.
It was said that this had happened long ago, thousands of years before I’d been born. And it was meant to come again.
In the dream, panic roared through me. I ran for them, but my legs barely moved. I was so slow, bound by the dream and my own cluelessness about how I was supposed to save them.
The prophecy showed me what would happen; it even told me that I was the one who could stop it. I could feel it deep in my heart.
I just had no idea how I was supposed to manage it.
Iron bands tightened around my heart, burning, cutting off my breathing. I clawed at the air, trying to reach them, to get to them.
But nothing.
“What is this?”
The masculine voice snapped me away from my terror. My heart still raced, but I couldn’t help but search for the voice. It was low and smooth, so perfect that it rushed over my nerve endings in a horribly delicious way. I was terrified for my people, and yet this voice could make me feel things even when I didn’t want to.
I turned, confusion racing through me.
This dream was always the same. Just me and the flames, watching my home burn.
Yet he was here.
The King of the Ice Fae stood behind me, his dark cloak whipping in the wind. He stood with an elegant, deadly grace, his gaze moving dispassionately over the scene of my home burning.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.
“In your dream?” His impossibly blue gaze moved to me, flicking up and down.
Heat flickered within the icy depths of his eyes, followed by mild surprise. As if he were shocked to find me attractive.
I had a preternatural gift for reading people, and this man wanted me.
“In my dream,” I confirmed. He felt real. Like he was here. The burning houses were an image of the future, but he was flesh and blood.
I stepped back, heart thundering.
Could he get me here?
He prowled toward me, his stride graceful.
My gaze raced over his shoulders and down his arms, to the sword sheathed at his side. I’d spent my life training to recognize deadly opponents. This guy topped the list.
I swallowed hard, breathing shallowly through my mouth to avoid the delicious scent of his magic. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”
“To know more about my mate.”
I didn’t argue with his statement. We’d never met, but we’d both been raised on the same prophecy. I could sense that he was my fated mate as easily as he could. A knowledge deep in my chest, a thudding awareness that followed the cadence of my heart.
It felt as if mine beat in tandem with his.
I loathed it.
His gaze flicked back to the burning scene behind me. “What is this?”
I looked behind, my heart twisting in my chest. “It’s my homeland burning.” I turned back to him, glaring. “I’m meant to stop it. Somehow. Yet the prophecy states that you will kill me and leave my people to burn.”
His jaw hardened and he shrugged. The heat that had filled his eyes banked, and the ice that seemed to flow through his veins filled the space it left behind.
“What must be done, must be done.” His voice was devoid of emotion, but within it, I heard the truth of what he would bring me—death. “One prophecy outweighs the others.”
It was so strange, his willingness to kill me. It was said that one Fae mate couldn’t live without the other once they found them. They would wither away and die. So what would happen to him when he killed me?
Was he truly made of ice, so cold and hard that he wouldn’t care?
I didn’t bother to ask.
I reached for my bronze ax, calling my favorite weapon from the ether. The weight was heavy in my hand. Welcome.
The king arched a brow.
“Claire!” My brother’s voice cut through my consciousness, dragging me from the dream.
The image of the king wavered in front of me, disappearing. The flames that flickered out of the corner of my vision disappeared as well, and I jerked upright, opening my eyes.
3
I woke quickly, blinking to find myself still in the car with Connor, the headlights cutting through the darkness of the desert.
I turned to him. “What happened?”
“You were dreaming.” His eyes darkened with concern. “It didn’t look good.”
Images of the king flickered in front of my mind’s eye. “It wasn’t.” I looked out the window, seeing nothing but flat, barren land. I could feel that the sun was approaching the horizon, a Fae talent I hadn’t missed out on. “Where are we?”
“Nearly to the desert.”
“Good. We need to find a place to rest.” I hated sleeping on the run, but despite my short nap, exhaustion still dragged at me. Connor didn’t look much better.
“We’ll find one.”
I nodded and leaned against the window, staring out.
We drove the rest of the night, across the plains and over the mountains. Toward the rising sun that bled red and gold all over the horizon.
Behind the wheel, Connor never flagged. I couldn’t have asked for a better brother. When we’d learned of the prophecy and I was forced to leave home and go into hiding, he’d come with me. It was a huge deal for a Fae to leave their Court behind. We’d lost out on so much—including our wings.
He’d given that up for me. Our parents hadn’t been alive any longer, and he was the only family I had left. I’d tried to get him to stay in our homeland, the place where the land called to our blood, but he’d refused. He’d come with me instead, and we’d created a new home together. Now we were running again.
By the time we reached the part of desert we sought, I was exhausted.
“Nearly there,” Connor said.
He was right. I could feel the prickle in the air. Magic lurked here, heavy in the desert. The sun, which had recently risen, began to dim.
I eyed it warily. “It’ll be full dark soon.”
“Better to hide us.”
I nodded. There were several places like this in the world—locations that were perfect for lying low. Magic in the air made them perpetually dark, and there were loads of crazy magical signatures bouncing across the landscape. Hiding our signatures. Hiding us.