I remember wings and kindness. A gentle caress. Blood on my hands. My parents injured. A dream I can’t get out of.
Faerie.
None of the details connect to each other. It’s a jumbled mess, but at least it’s something.
I lock eyes with Damon. “You have wings but you’re not a demon or an angel.”
“That’s right.” He blows out a relieved breath.
“Something awful happened, and…” The next part comes out sounding like a question. “I’m not okay?”
“I visited you in the hospital.”
“You saw me?”
“I didn’t see you, per se.”
“Do you always talk in riddles?”
“Sometimes.”
“Am I a vegetable?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Like a carrot?”
“No.” I laugh, but my amusement quickly fades. “Brain dead.”
“You’re going to be just fine.” He clenches his jaw. “I have a plan, but for now, we need to level up out of here. I’d prefer you as close to consciousness as possible when I bring you to my world.”
“Wait.” My fingers find his hoodie pocket and I grasp the soft fabric. “This is my safe place.”
I remember more now—the lucid dreaming.
When Damon put me under after the crash, I went on autopilot and came to the world I created years ago.
This quaint downtown area isn’t big. I didn’t overreach when I built it. I went for something closer to reality than fantasy. It’s comfortable, stable, and secure. I have an apartment upstairs. There are great restaurants across the street. My neighbors are nice.
Running the back of his knuckles over my cheek, Damon gives me a sad look. “If I had it my way, I’d hole up in this building with you for the rest of our lives, just staying safe and having babies.”
“Babies?” Geez, this guy moves fast. “Why would you want that with me?”
“Can’t you feel it?” He flattens one of my hands over his heart.
Oh, I feel something, all right. I’ve had dreams where I got turned on. On occasion, I’ve even orgasmed in my sleep. Although I have no idea what sex is like, I’ve dreamed it quite vividly. Naked bodies. A pressure inside me. Roaming hands and deep kisses.
Everywhere Damon touches me, he leaves a tingling in his wake, reminding me of those brief glimpses of intimacy I’ve gotten in the past.
“We’re destined to be together,” he goes on passionately. “When fated mates lock eyes for the first time, they just know. From what I’ve been told, your soul aligns. Becomes complete.”
I’ve been staring at his eyes for minutes and I haven’t felt anything like that. “Are you sure?”
“It hasn’t happened yet because this is a dream.” Pressing his forehead to mine, he sighs. “We have so much to look forward to, Whitley. We need to start our lives, but we can’t do it here.”
There’s a worry wrinkle between his eyebrows and I want to rub it away. Moving back, I run my finger from the middle of his forehead to the tip of his perfect nose. When his warm breath puffs against my hand, goose bumps ripple over my arm.
He licks his lips, and my focus goes there as I move my palm to his cheek. Maybe he’s staring at my mouth, too. I’m not sure, because I can’t look away from his.
I want to kiss him.
Badly.
I’ve never been kissed before. Although guys have noticed me in the past, I never returned their attention. Because who would want a girl who prefers to spend her time consumed by a world that doesn’t exist?
But Damon found me here. He submerged himself in my imagination to be a part of it.
As he bends down, I push up on my tiptoes.
I’m pretty sure closing your eyes while kissing is the proper protocol, but I won’t do it. I need to keep them wide open, because it’d be a tragedy to miss one second of admiring this man.
We’re only an inch away from a lip lock when motion in my peripheral vision catches my attention. I turn my head, and Damon’s mouth connects with my cheek. To my left, black wisps are falling down the walls. Like soot.
“What’s that?”
When Damon follows my line of sight, a guttural growl comes from his throat. “No. No.”
Digging his fingers into my back, he clings to me. It’s a good thing he’s holding me up because my lightheadedness gets worse. If it weren’t for him, I’m not sure I could stay upright.
I put a hand to my forehead, blinking rapidly to clear my darkening vision. But it’s no use. Within seconds, the walls are disintegrating all around us, stealing the light.
I glance at Damon’s fearful expression. “I don’t think that’s ever happened in my dreams before. Is it bad?”
“It sure as shit isn’t good.”
“Am I dying?”
“You’re not allowed to,” Damon orders harshly, holding me impossibly tight. “I forbid it, Whitley. Do you hear me?”
A floating sensation overwhelms my body. I know I’m still standing on my feet—I certainly can’t go anywhere with Damon anchoring me like this—but a part of me is leaving. As the black substance continues to fill the room, more of my consciousness slips away.
“Maybe you really are an angel,” I whisper up at him. “Could we be together in heaven?”
“Stop talking like that.”
Sadness seeps in. “Don’t be mad. I don’t think I could stand it if you were angry with me.”
“Just don’t close your eyes. Fight it. Fight for me. For us.”
“I’m so tired.” My eyelids droop and my tongue feels like it weighs ten pounds.
“No. Please,” Damon begs, a hysterical sob escaping. “I’ll stay here with you. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t leave.”
“S-sorry,” I slur, blinking at the most perfect face I’ve ever seen. As far as last sights go, I got a good one. “We woulda had beautiful babies.”
“No! Don’t go.” He squeezes me harder.
I try to keep my eyes open, but the darkness creeps in anyway.
The last thing I hear before everything goes black is Damon’s gut-wrenching wail.
Damon
“NOOO!” I wake screaming, holding onto nothing but my own torso. “No, no, no.”
Agony rips through my chest as I roll over.
She can’t be gone.
She can’t.
But the shadows have come before. Four times, to be exact. And every one of those times, people died in their sleep while I was dream walking.
I haven’t truly cried since I was a child, but tears of helplessness and devastation fill my eyes. Wet drops stream down my cheeks and nose, soaking my pillow.
Damn the witches. Damn the fucking curse. Damn this lonely life I’ve had.
Maybe it’s over. This is how my story ends—almost getting everything I ever wanted. Almost kissing my mate. Almost saving her but failing.
Flopping onto my back, I wipe at my face. With the motion, something rattles inside my shirt.
Whitley’s whistle.
I wrap my fingers around it and try to find a way back into her head. Nothing happens, but I try again. I keep trying until my brain throbs from the strain.