Chapter 21 Eryx
Eryx
Two minutes earlier
The nightmare writhes in my hands, all dark shadows and pulsing energy. It was a particularly nasty one—a boy’s terror of drowning, lungs filling with water, darkness closing in.
The inky black form warps and twists, fighting to escape my hold.
Figures. Two days off, and the first nightmare I touch wants to fight back.
More power! Nightmare yells. Give it more!
I push more of my magic into it and it seeps in. The shadow shrieks. Its dark core shifts, changing from black to gold to molten white, burning like the sun.
Wait. It’s not supposed to do that.
Before there’s a chance to think about it, the white magic grows, consuming the dream until it—
The nightmare explodes.
Light erupts outward in a shock wave. The windows shatter, glass spraying into the night. The blast throws me backward, and I hit the floor, hard.
My ears ring, sharp pain stabbing through my skull. I’m on my knees now, hands pressed to my ears, but it doesn’t stop Nightmare’s voice screaming inside my head.
What was that? Are we dead? We can’t be dead. We just got married! I haven’t had a chance to ask Chelsea about her nightly beauty routine. Chelsea—where is she? Is she okay?
The door to my chamber flies open, and a blur of pink rushes toward me. I blink and there’s an angel—blonde hair, blue eyes steeped with worry—gently grabbing my hands that are still stuck to my ears.
“Eryx? Are you okay?”
The stabbing sensation slowly fades away. It takes a moment for me to put all the pieces together. The white magic, the pink dress.
Chelsea.
Chelsea.
“Eryx?”
“I’m okay,” I say slowly.
“Let me help you up.”
Before I can argue that kings don’t need help getting up, she wraps an arm around my waist and leans into me. Her hair tickles my cheek, and her sweet scent takes hold and won’t let me go.
The heat of her body rolls over me as I stand.
Oh my God, she feels so good. She smells even better!
When I’m standing, she slowly releases me, but unlike other times when we’ve been close, she doesn’t step back.
She cranes her neck back to look me in the eyes. “What happened?”
“I was dissolving a boy’s nightmare.”
She touches her chest.
She loves us, Nightmare purrs.
“And the shadow was powerful.”
Chelsea drags her gaze away to examine the windows. “You can say that again.”
“Sir!” Stave charges into the room. Spots me. Spots Chelsea. Spots the broken windows. “Do you need healing?”
“I’m fine.” I wave him off. “You can go. I’ll fix the windows.”
Stave nods and leaves.
I turn back to Chelsea, who stares at me with a curious look on her face.
And then it hits me—the white magic inside the shadow dream. It burned like sunlight.
Like her.
My gaze drops to where her hand rests on my arm. Warmth spreads from that single point of contact, sinking into my skin, my magic, my—
It was the lingering effect from the wedding, Nightmare breathes. Her magic mixed with ours. Don’t you see? She’s our soulmate. Our true love. Our other half. She completes us!
No. That's not possible. Magic doesn’t linger like that. Does it?
You’re asking too many questions, Nightmare snaps.
No, I’m asking the right questions, and Nightmare knows it.
But magic doesn't lie. And neither does the way my power hums beneath my skin wherever she touches me.
I must’ve been silent for too long because she drops her hand—No! Get her to touch us again—and says, “Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“No,” I say too quickly. Her eyes flit up to mine, and I clear my throat. “What I mean is that you don’t have to. I just need to fix the windows and I can take you back to your room.”
“I’ve already been there.”
“And you’ve already changed.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “I wanted to wear something nice for dinner. Besides, all Stave put in the closet was lingerie—very risqué pieces, I’d like to add.”
My own cheeks heat. “Yes, well, um. I need to fix these windows.”
I move away and lift my hands, pulling the shards back from where they fell.
She watches silently as I rebuild. “So do these shadows come out a lot?”
With the first window complete, I move to the second one. “Sometimes. Worst part is, I never know when they’ll jump out.”
“Out of where?”
“The dreamscape.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh.” She moves to my resting chaise and runs her fingers over the velvet cushion. “Are the shadows dangerous?”
“This one was.”
“But the ones that slip through? The ones in the castle aren’t? How’s that possible?”
I fix the second window and turn around to see Chelsea watching me. When our gazes lock, she looks away too quickly.
“It’s possible because I destroy the bad ones. The other ones I don’t bother with.”
“Why not?”
“Because…Nancy’s supposed to get them with her vacuum.”
She grins. “I’ve met Nancy, and if I had to guess, I’d say she thinks catching nightmares is your job.”
I roll my eyes. “You have no idea how many times I’ve been over her duties with her. It never sinks in. But she’s been here for twenty years and she’s union, so there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Couldn’t you complain to the union?”
“Have you ever tried complaining to a union about one of their members?”
“No.”
“It’s like talking to a brick wall.” I fix the third window and drop my hands to my hips. “There. It’s all done. Your thoughts?”
She drops her gaze. “It’s beautiful.”
“But you’re not even looking at it.”
“I was,” she replies, eyes lifting to meet mine.
Maybe she means us! Maybe she thinks we’re beautiful. Make a move. Now! Tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Lift her chin. Tell her there’s nothing more beautiful in the whole room except her. Do it!
“I…um…like your dress.”
Her whole face brightens, and something tightens in my chest.
“Nancy brought it up, but I’m not sure if she liked it or not.”
“How could she not have? It’s perfect,” I murmur.
Chelsea’s eyes widen in surprise. “Perfect?”
Our gazes lock for a beat too long, and I plunge a hand into my hair. “Yes, well, anyway—”
Her gaze darts to the right. “What’s that?”
I turn around. “Where?”
“There, by the bookcase.”
Curled up beside the bookcase is a small shadow. “Oh, that’s just something that came through when the nightmare did.”
“But its shape—”
That’s when it hits me. The shadow is small, about the size of a basketball. Something in the back of it sweeps back and forth.
“A puppy,” Chelsea exclaims.
She brushes past me, her arm sliding over mine, setting my skin on fire.
I follow Chelsea to where she’s crouched in front of the shadow. She holds her hand out, and the shadow steps timidly forward and sniffs. I see what she does—the clear outline of a dog.
I scratch my head. “Well, that’s new.”
The shadow has stopped sniffing her hand and lowers down on its front legs, rear high and tail wagging.
“I think it wants to play. Do you have a ball?”
“No, I can’t say—”
Make one, you idiot! Women love it when men have puppies. Nurture the shadow. Breastfeed it. Do whatever you have to, to get Chelsea to melt!
Chelsea looks up at me, a smile of delight on her face. Right then something inside me shifts, and I will do just about anything to have her look at me like that.
“We could make one together,” I offer.
She goes still. “Together?”
I nod.
“How?”
“With a little pixie dust and rubber.”
She laughs, and it’s more charming than her smile. And I feel my own lips turn up.
Chelsea rises and brushes off her hands. “All right. Let’s make a ball.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I thought you’d say no.”
“I was tempted to, because it seems like the only thing we makes are roses, but I say we give it a shot.”
“And if we make roses, you can play fetch with those.”
She frowns. “Not one of those. They’re too…”
I lean in. “Too what?”
I feel Nightmare leaning in too, eager to know what she’ll say.
Chelsea drags her teeth over her bottom lip.
Nightmare moans.
Finally she says, “They’re too beautiful.”
On beautiful, she glances at me, timid, unsure, and I nod and quietly reply, “Yes, they are.”
The air around us is charged, and the urge to lean in and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear is overpowering. I’m about to lift my hand when she hitches a brow.
“The ball?”
“Yes.” I clap my hands. “The ball. Let’s do it.”
I offer my hand, and she slides hers over mine, this time without hesitating. The moment we touch, I know this is going to be different. We’re not in public. We’re not holding back. And our magic has only gotten more reactive since that first touch.
Thanks to me, Nightmare chimes.
I ignore him and for a split second I consider pulling away. Warning her.
But then I feel her magic and the pull is so seductive I let go.
I release some of my power, and I feel hers slowly come to attention, touching mine, brushing across it tentatively, asking it to be gentle.
My magic replies by taking its time to wrap around hers, cocooning it, and Chelsea’s power allows this before sliding out and winding with mine.
Nightmare, are you doing this? There’s no answer. Nightmare?
Her golden-light magic and my darkness fuse as one, and I feel it all the way to my toes. But more than that, I feel it in my core. Blood rushes to every part of me, arousal hitting me like a physical blow. This is different. It’s more intense than anything I’ve felt.
What are you doing? I ask it, but it doesn’t reply.
Chelsea looks up at me, and her cheeks are bright pink, her lips parted, her pupils blown.
Nightmare, you’ve got to stop.
I’m not doing this! Her magic is pulling. Besides, do you really want it to stop? it asks, moaning with pleasure.
Is that a lie? The truth? Before I can ask it another question, my cock hardens fully. My testicles tighten.
Chelsea’s breath catches and a slight moan escapes her lips. Her free hand grips my forearm, nails digging into it.
She squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back, steadying her.
Pressure builds inside as the ball forms between our hands. I can’t stop this, and the next thing I know—
A surge explodes in my body—pleasure so intense it wipes out my vision—and I come hard, shuddering from the force of it.
Chelsea’s entire face is red, and she lifts up on her tiptoes, body trembling, before sinking back down with a shaky exhale.
We stare at one another, faces flushed, breathing hard. Neither of us speaks.
What the fuck just happened?
And there, hovering above our still-joined hands is a ball—half gold, half black, swirled together like a galaxy. All magic. All us. Proof of what we just did. Together.
Chelsea's eyes are wide, shocked. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. She looks at the ball. At me. At the ball again.
I need to say something. Apologize. Explain—
She steps back first, her hand leaving mine. Cool air drifts over my palm, extinguishing her heat. The loss of contact feels wrong. Like I just severed something that should stay connected.
Who turned the air-conditioning on? If it was Nancy, she’s going to get it.
“I—” she starts.
“That was—” I begin.
We both stop. Neither of us knows what to say.
A thousand thoughts run through my mind, to explain where that came from, but we’d better be careful, because if that’s what one touch and our magic combining does, then what happens if we—
Do it in real life?
Kiss, I was thinking. Kiss.
You’re so disappointing.
But what happens if we do more than kiss? The thought should terrify me. Instead, all I can think is—I want to find out.
“Chelsea, I—”
The door opens and Stave steps in. He looks at Chelsea. Me.
His eyebrow lifts and I scowl. “Yes?” I ask impatiently.
“Dinner is served.”