5. Lyric
Lyric
M an, last night was the best dream of my life. I’ve never dreamed anything so vividly before, and it was so wild, too! My book boyfriend came to life? I wish!
Rolling onto my back, I push my arms above my head and let out a screeching groan as I stretch, my legs trembling and joints popping.
“Good morning, lass.” I snap upright, the room spinning around me. My head whips down, and there, lying on the other side of the bed is…
“Ian MacTavish,” I sigh, flopping back onto the bed. “It wasn’t a dream. Thank God.” There’s a beat of blissful silence, then reality settles in. “It wasn’t a dream.”
I leap out of bed again, my heart hammering in my chest as I stare at the very real man laying in it.
Apparently, I didn’t do a sufficient enough job freaking out last night, because What. The. Fuck.
“So you’re real?” His lips pull into a wicked grin. God, I want this man to murder my pussy.
“I am.”
He tucks his arm under his head as he watches me begin pacing. “And you’re not freaking out?”
There’s a pause, and I glance over at him. “Freaking out?”
“Yeah, you know. Freaking out.” I wave my arms around. “What’s the 1800’s equivalent?” I scrub my hands over my face, groaning. “Befuddled. Perplexed. Utterly confused.”
“Oh.” He tips his head to the side as if he’s thinking that over. “Yeah, I think I’m a bit freaked out .” Slowly, he shifts his accusing gaze to the lamp. “Can you explain what’s going on?”
“Uh, no. I can’t.” If I knew what was going on, I wouldn’t be losing it right now. “You’re a book character.”
He totally freezes. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not real. Well, you’re not supposed to be. But here you are.” I wave my arm at him. “I don’t know how you’re…what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean I’m not real?” he cries, panicked. “I’m real!” He stabs a finger into his corded forearm. “I’m real!”
Sighing, I sink onto the bed beside him and pat his strong shoulder. “I know you are, buddy. I just don’t know how you’re in my world.”
With teary eyes, he looks up at me. “Your world?”
“Yeah, you know, the modern, real world. Not the 1800s, fictional Scotland world.” I rub my forehead until it burns. “The spell must’ve truly worked.”
“Spell?” He jolts away and falls to the floor, landing heavily. “I knew ye were a witch!” Pointing an accusing finger at me, he scoots across the floor.
I roll my eyes. What a drama queen.
“I am not a witch, Ian. Calm yourself.”
To my utter amazement, his eyes glaze over, and his body relaxes. His arm drops to his side, and suddenly, he’s not losing his shit anymore. He’s calm.
Huh.
Well, that’s fucking weird.
He followed my instructions last night, too. Even when I told him to go to sleep, he did so. Immediately.
Narrowing my eyes, I turn fully toward him. “Stand up.” He pushes to his feet and smooths his hands over his kilt, righting it. “Touch your toes.” Reaching down, his fingertips brush his toes.
Hmm.
“Pull your cock out,” I mutter, mostly to see if he’ll do it.
My mouth falls open as he yanks his kilt up, exposing his cock. He grips it in his hand, his eyes still glazed.
I can control him?
How fun!
I smile happily up at my Highlander as we waltz down the streets of Salem. People stare at him, and he stares right back, giving them his prized smile I’ve only ever swooned over in my head.
It’s unreal being able to do it in real life.
Not only can I swoon over him, I can control him…with my mind! I’ve pinched myself at least nineteen times this morning.
I sigh dreamily, clutching his arm tighter. “I can’t believe women don’t wear dresses,” he mutters, and I roll my eyes. He glances accusingly down at me, glaring at my leggings like they’ve personally offended him.
From the way he acted when he saw my outfit earlier, you would think I was naked. Not that I’d be opposed to it, but I have some decency.
“This is where I work.” I skip ahead, smiling at Georgie across the street at her coffee trailer. “It’s a used bookstore, where unloved books come for a second chance.”
Yanking the door open, we’re immediately greeted with that delicious papery smell. “Honey, I’m home!” I call as I drag Ian behind me.
“Hey, baby!” Story shouts from somewhere in the maze of rows. “I’m back here!”
I pause. If I take Ian back there with me, in all his kilted glory, Story will lose her mind. I need to ease her into this.
Turning toward him, I pat his firm chest. “Can you stay here for a sec? I need to talk to Story.”
He nods as he looks around, still looking terrified of the electricity buzzing throughout the shop. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw the toaster this morning.
Hurrying through the store, I find Story in the historical romance section. Fitting.
“Story.” I grasp her arm, yanking her toward me. She stumbles, and if it weren’t for my hold on her, she’d fall to the floor.
“I could’ve died!” she cries. “I just saw my life flash before my eyes!”
“I have bigger problems than you losing your life!” I hiss, bringing my face closer to hers. “The spell worked!”
Pride fills her face, and she straightens to her full height. “Of course it did,” she scoffs.
“No! It really worked, Story. Ian is here—like, he’s real!” I yank her forward again, her head flopping around like a bobble head. Pointing at the massive Highlander at the front of the shop, I whisper-shout, “See!”
Her face is pale when I look back at her, her red-painted lips parted. “Oh my God.”
“I know.”
“Oh my fucking God!”
“I know !”
Ian grabs a monster romance book off the shelf and flips it open. His eyes go wide as he reads something on the page, then promptly slams it shut and slides it back onto the shelf.
He looks around the store as if nothing happened, and our eyes meet. His entire face lights up as he waves at me.
Hesitantly, I jerk my hand at him, telling him to come over. Striding over, he looks way too confident for a man who was having an existential crisis just this morning.
“Hi, Mo Chridhe ,” he says, and I nearly melt.
“Hey! Do not insult her, you—you oversized fuckwit!” Story shouts, shoving me behind her. I’m rendered totally speechless. Ian just blinks at her. She’s panting like she’s a caged beast ready to pounce.
“I dinna insult the lass,” he murmurs, his voice like the rolling hills of the Highlands. Again, I nearly melt. I nearly fall to my knees and suck his peter right here in the middle of DNF.
But I don’t.
I refrain.
Barely.
“You called her— something !”
“It’s okay,” I coo at her, gently stroking my fingers down her spine. “He’s just a big sweetie bear. He’d never say anything mean to me.”
Her lips curl back from her teeth, and I swear she’s about to bark at him when a customer walks in. In an instant, her demeanor shifts, and she goes into her customer service persona.
“This isn’t over,” she says through her teeth, smiling at him.
I step beside Ian, and we watch as she helps the customer find the perfect book for them. “She’s terrifying,” he mutters, and I nod my agreement.
“I’m pretty sure she’s castrated a man before,” I tell him, and feel his body go rigid. “That’s when you stick a rod down their dickhole, right?”
She hurries the customer out the door, then turns her attention back to us. “Go in there,” I say, pointing at the employee’s only restroom. Robotically, he turns on his heel and makes his way to the room. “Don’t be mean to him.”
“I’m not mean to anyone,” she scoffs, sounding offended. “I’m a fucking delight.”
“He didn’t insult me.”
“What did he say then?” She folds her arms over her chest, her brows raised.
“No idea. But it wasn’t mean,” I say, mimicking her movements. She rolls her eyes, her mouth opening to argue more, but I cut her off before she can get a word out. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s a fictional character come to life. How the fuck does that happen? And why? And how long can I keep him? Is he here forever?”
She tilts her head to the side, thinking. “What did you say in that spell?”
“Nothing. Just that I wanted him to come to life.” She takes a deep breath, and turns to look out at the store.
“Okay,” she breathes. “Let’s figure this shit out.”