CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lukendevener
Skye blinks up at me with those huge forget-me-not eyes, her candy lips just as pink and plump and tempting as they were only seconds ago when the spell ripped us away from our almost-kiss and deposited us back at the start of the scene.
“Goddess, help me,” I grit out. “We can’t mess up like that again.” I won’t survive another round of being on top of her without being able to take her. She’s far too tempting with her lush curves, her sweet and spicy scent filling my every breath.
“What?” The little witch flinches, hurt pinching her pretty features. She starts nodding, rabbit fast. “Oh, of course. Yes, I’ll try not to fall this time.”
That’s not what I meant, but the dance instructor yells instructions to another of the couples, reminding me yet again that we’ll be stuck here unless we finish this lesson successfully.
“Come.” I tighten my hold on Skye and start the new dance, this so-called foxtrot. Two long steps forward, followed by two quick steps to the side. I repeat it over and over.
“Luke, Luke, Luke.” Miss Michelle comes over. “This is a freeform foxtrot. You can do what you want, but you need to loosen those hips.” She shimmies her hips, her feet gliding through steps with a fluidity I can’t match. “Slow, slow, quick, quick.”
I ignore her advice and stop watching the other couples with all their spins and turns and extra footwork. We don’t need to be fancy. We need to finish this cursed lesson so Skye and I can have an uninterrupted conversation as ourselves.
Yet the longer we dance, the calmer I feel.
Skye and I begin to move as one, our bodies matching rhythm making me think of other more pleasant activities we could be doing instead.
My grip on her tightens, pulling her closer than a waltz allows.
Skye relaxes in my arms, her curves soft and beguiling every time our thighs touch.
Reduced to human, I only have one cock, but it rouses with interest as I breathe in the sweet and spicy scent that clings to the little witch’s skin and hair.
I never expected to enjoy dancing, having never done much of it before.
Dragons used to attend elfin balls back in the Faerie of old, but when the doors of Faerie closed, such things were lost to memory and time.
With Skye in my arms, I finally see the appeal.
After an eternity, the music eventually stops, and Miss Michelle calls for the end of class. Good. As soon as we’re back in the real world, I’ll be able to talk to Skye, tell her I find her attractive.
Yet instead of the golden sparkles of her magic, something else grips me. The book takes over, and inanities fall from my lips. “Yo, babe. We just worked up an appetite. What are you feeding me for dinner?”
Ah, that’s right. The cat-in-a-tree incident.
“Oh, you.” Skye gives a high giggle and looks up at me through her eyelashes, blinking so rapidly I worry she’s got something in one of her eyes. But she continues without any other signs of distress. “I made fried chicken with coleslaw and mashed potatoes and gravy.”
The people around us fade into the background as we walk out the studio’s front door.
Instead of opening on the chaos of Skye’s raw magic, this time it lets us step out onto Main Street, Ferndale Falls.
The shops are as brightly colored as their real-world counterparts and built in the same Victorian style with ornate trim, yet their signs look too hazy to be legible.
The dance studio seems to be in the building that holds the jewelry store Bling It On in the real world.
“Why does it look like Ferndale Falls?” I ask, able to speak for myself at the moment.
“I don’t know,” Skye whisper-hisses. “Maybe the description in the book just says ‘small town’ without any details, so my magic pulled the setting from my mind.”
We walk toward a blue pickup truck, and I’m the one who pulls out a set of keys.
I unlock the passenger door for Skye. The second the book’s plot releases me for a moment, I climb in after her, using my greater weight to slide her across the truck’s bench seat until she’s the one in front of the steering wheel.
“What are you doing?” She shoots me a puzzled look. “You’re the one who owns the truck in the book, not me.”
“I’ve never driven.” I shove the keys into her hand. “I don’t think now is the time to start.”
“What if the magic won’t let me drive because you’re supposed to?”
“What if I try to drive and we wreck?” I counter.
“We’d probably start the scene over instead of getting hurt.”
“Even if we don’t get injured, how much of the scene do we repeat? Are we sent back to this moment, or do we go all the way back to when we entered the dance lesson?”
“Fudge, you’re right.” She starts the truck and pulls away from the curb without the spell sending us back to earlier in the scene, so the book must not specify who’s driving.
There are no other cars on the road. In fact, there aren’t any other people visible at all.
“Where is everyone?” I ask. “I understand that in an all-human book, there won’t be pixies or gnomes or shadow fae, but where are all the humans?”
“Oh, I didn’t notice.” Skye takes a quick glance around at the empty sidewalks, and her tone grows sad. “This is how town used to look before the fae got here.”
I grunt, not liking that this memory has upset her. “Well, that’s no longer the case. Ferndale Falls is a vibrant, healthy town.”
“It is.” She shoots me a small, thankful smile. Then it widens, and her eyes begin their rapid blinking once again. Both of her hands leave the steering wheel to wrap around my biceps. “Oh, Luke, you’re such a good driver. I feel so safe when I’m with you.”
The truck immediately swerves toward the edge of the pavement.
My hand snaps out and grabs the steering wheel, correcting our course, but we still barrel down the road at speed. I want to snap at her to take her foot from the pedals, but when I open my mouth, the book character’s words pour out of me. “Of course you’re safe with me, babe.”
Oh, the irony.
Skye giggles, pulling my gaze to her face for a split second before I look back at the road, yet it’s long enough to see the panic hiding in her eyes beneath their fluttering lashes.
“Keep trying to take your foot off the gas,” I growl. “That way we’ll slow the moment the book releases you.”
Her fingers flex on my arm in silent agreement… or her book character is feeling my muscles. It’s one of those two things, and I prefer to believe it’s the real Skye sending me a message.
The road stretches through forest, unending walls of green bracketing the pavement. Thank the goddess, there are no other vehicles. I have no idea where we’re going, but it doesn’t seem to matter—there are no turnoffs or intersections.
Skye releases my arm with a ragged gasp, her hands flying to the steering wheel. “Fudging fudgesicles!” We slow to a third of our previous speed as her foot comes off the gas. “I never want to do that again.”
“How much longer until we get to the house?”
“No idea.” She takes a look around as we slow further. “I don’t know where we are. I haven’t seen anything familiar since we left downtown.”
“Don’t go any slower than this. We don’t want to reset.”
She gapes at me and jabs a finger toward the road in front of us. “I just let go of the steering wheel while we were going fifty miles an hour, and you want me to do it again?” Her voice hits a high note.
“I don’t like this anymore than you do, but we must finish this scene or we’ll never get out of the book.” I grab a free spot on the steering wheel and scowl out the windshield. “Go slow, and I’ll keep hold this time. We can do this.”
Skye takes a few juddering breaths, then says, “Okay, you’re right.”
“Of course I am. It’s the logical plan of action.”
She mutters, “Snickerdoodles,” under her breath and puts the car in drive. We creep down the road, but fortunately not for much longer. In the blink of an eye, the trees recede from the roadside to make room for houses, and Skye pulls the truck to a halt in front of her pink cottage.
The little witch bats her eyelashes at me as she unlocks the front door. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I say, the book character adding a note of innuendo to my voice that’s true for me as well.
Princess Buttercup rushes into the hallway. “It’s about time! Do you know how boring it is to be here without you? There aren’t any toys!” She sounds affronted. “How can this be a house with a cat if there aren’t any cat toys?”
“I’ve got the chicken prepped, so this won’t take long at all.” Skye doesn’t even glance at her familiar, her eyes locked onto my face. “Do you want to wait in the living room?”
“Wanna be with you, babe. Eager to watch you make dinner for me.”
A loud yowl of protest follows us into the sunny kitchen, Princess Buttercup running in circles around Skye’s legs and tripping her.
I surge forward. My movements lack the speed of a fae, but I still catch her.
She smiles up at me, her real smile instead of the book character’s, soft and warm, and I pull her even closer.
“Hello!” The cat leaps up onto the countertop, then bounds onto my shoulder to yell directly into Skye’s face, “Why are you ignoring me? I’m the most important person here!”
“Oh, Princess Buttercup, stop making such a fuss.” Skye plucks her familiar from my shoulder, and the cat goes limp and docile. “Let’s put you in the guest bedroom for now.”
“You can’t lock me away,” Princess Buttercup says as Skye disappears into the hall. “I can’t get my body to do what I want, but I do not agree to this!”
A door snicks shut, and Skye reappears, hurrying over to wash her hands before she starts cooking.
Instead of helping, I stand drinking a beer and watching her. Like the cat, my body is not currently my own.
The next few moments whiz by like one of Skye’s dance movies played at double speed. Before I know it, I’m sitting at her dining table, eating and making small talk about my work as a fireman. My character prattles on and on about the fire station and all his coworkers without asking about her day.
The crisp coating on the chicken crunches with each bite, the meat within salty and tender. The tang of the coleslaw provides a nice flavor contrast, and the creamy mashed potatoes drip with meaty gravy.
“Babe, this is the best meal I’ve ever eaten!” As far as I’m aware, it’s the only meal this character has ever eaten, but he’s correct—the food is indeed excellent.
Skye giggles and blinks rapidly again. “You haven’t even had dessert.”
“There’s only one thing I want for dessert.” I slide my chair over and reach for her hand. Skye’s pretty candy-red mouth captures my full attention, begging me to lick, to taste. Nothing could be sweeter.
I stop fighting the book character, both of us in full accord, both of us craving the woman in front of us.
I lean forward, tugging her onto my lap.