“And miss out on the opportunity to make a deal? Who do you think I am?”
“Valid point.” I tap my chin as I consider the next few days. Waiting is going to be torture, but I don’t have much choice. “Kai won’t be able to rest when he arrives. We’ll have to go to Whitley as soon as he gets here. He’ll be exhausted, but I also need him to be at his best.”
“Good luck with that.” Astrid pushes me toward the door. “Now I have work to do. Listen carefully—no matter what you hear or smell in here over the next several hours, stay out. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I sigh. This woman and her secrets.
“Promise.”
“I promise I won’t come in until you say I can.” A flutter erupts in my chest as the unbreakable vow between us solidifies.
“Great. In the meantime, I think you should have a visit with Whitley’s head.”
I smirk when I envision something entirely different. Something sexual. I know Astrid didn’t mean it like that, but I can’t help picturing my cock going into Whitley’s pretty mouth, stretching her lips wide as she takes me in.
Striding to my room, I mentally will my throbbing erection to be patient. I’ve waited my entire life to experience physical intimacy. A little while longer won’t kill me, and right now, I need to prepare myself for where I’m going—Whitley’s subconscious.
In the past, I’ve unknowingly entered dreams on deeper levels. I quickly learned it wasn’t a place I wanted to be. The further down I went, the scarier it got. The inner parts of a person’s subconscious is where they harbor all their darkest thoughts. It’s where impulses rule and the deepest desires are fulfilled. After a particularly disturbing incident, I vowed to never go there again.
But here I am, following my soul mate into the unknown.
Whitley
The bell over the front door to my shop dings.
“I’ll be with you in a minute!” I call, narrowing my eyes at the bookshelf.
I’ve been reorganizing the back room, but it’s not going well. What’s wrong with these books? None of them have titles. They’re all brown on the outside, and when I open them, the words inside are gibberish. How am I supposed to know what order they go in?
Maybe if I come back later, they’ll fix themselves.
Shrugging, I turn away and walk by the incense and candles. The smell of patchouli and lavender wafts up. At least that section seems to be right today.
When I lift the shimmery veil in the doorway, I see him beyond the racks of tie-dye dresses.
A beautiful stranger.
Untamed blond hair down to his shoulders. A handsome face. Broad shoulders in a gray hoodie.
Something about him seems familiar, but I can’t place him. “Can I help you?”
“It’s so… peaceful here.” He sounds surprised and impressed as he glances around the room. “And it smells nice.”
“Thank you. Welcome to Whit’s End. I designed the store myself. I was going for light and airy.” I wiggle my fingers as if I’m sprinkling glitter around the space.
Bright daylight shines from the front windows. The floor is made from gray driftwood, and there’s a large rectangular ivory rug under our feet. To the left, I have a display case of jewelry. Necklaces, amulets, and rings sparkle under the recessed lighting. In the corner there’s a two-seater table where I keep my Tarot cards and crystal ball.
“You tell fortunes?” He points at the star sign in the window.
“I do. Would you like a reading?”
“No need.” Smirking, he saunters toward me. “I already know my future.” He stops a foot away, looking down at me with open affection. “It’s you.”
“What?” I let out a nervous giggle. “You’re quite the charmer, huh?”
Bringing both hands up to my face, he brushes his thumbs over my cheeks. “I can’t figure out which part is my favorite. These dimples are adorable. Your eyelashes could command me with just one blink. But this part…” Focusing on my chin, he drags a fingertip over the cleft there. “I think this is what I love the most.”
I inhale sharply at how close he is, and I get a whiff of his scent. Winter. Crisp, clean air and fresh snow. An ocean breeze.
Dizziness hits me and I sway on my feet.
Am I literally swooning?
Well, who could blame me? He’s gorgeous.
“After I kiss you, it’ll probably be your lips,” he adds lightly. “I’d be willing to test that theory now. I wanted to wait until you’re awake, but at this point, I’d take a dream kiss.”
Wait…
My face screws up. “I’m dreaming?”
The woozy feeling increases, and confusion muddles my mind. The room starts to spin. My knees give out.
“Whoa.” As the man wraps his arms around me, he scrutinizes me with troubled eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Weird,” I tell him honestly. “Do I know you?”
He stiffens. “You don’t remember me?”
“Am I supposed to?”
Pulling back, he puts a steadying hand on my waist and lowers his face until we’re eye-to-eye. “Do you remember who you are?”
“What kind of question is that?” I ask, defensively. “I’m—I’m—”
He gives me a light shake. “Tell me your name.”
“I—uh—um…” Huh. I can’t spit it out. I feel like the answer is right there, but it won’t surface.
“It’s getting worse.” His lips flatten into a thin line.
Man, he’s even sexy when he’s frowning. “What’s getting worse?”
Instead of answering me, he asks, “What do you do for a living?”
“I own this store.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
Frustrated, he huffs. “Think. Remember.”
There’s a part of me that knows he’s right, and the panicked note in his voice isn’t reassuring. He’s worried about me.
Closing my eyes, I try to do as he says. I reach for visions of my childhood or faces of people I love.
It’s all murky. “I can’t.”
Suddenly, I’m engulfed in a hug. It’s not the platonic kind. There’s no pat on the back and it doesn’t end after the socially acceptable three seconds. Strong arms lend warmth, safety, and happiness.
Content, I sigh against the firm chest pressed to my cheek. “Whoever you are, I like you.”
He chuckles. “I’m Damon, king of the Dream Realm and—”
“And my dream come true,” I finish for him, somehow knowing what he’s going to say.
Pulling back, Damon gives me an encouraging nod. He watches me for more. I don’t want to disappoint him, but I’ve got nothing else to give.
Then his face dips toward mine. With wide eyes, I watch as he moves in for the kiss he’d offered earlier, but I’m surprised when he presses his lips to my chin instead.
It’s familiar, and the action triggers a string of memories. Bits and pieces float to the surface like the wreckage of a sunken ship. I see my dad’s brown hair peppered with white and my mom’s bleach-blond bob. A beige two-story house with a small front porch.