52. Summer
Chapter Fifty-Two
Summer
A fter what feels like the longest day that I’ve ever experienced, I finally shower and crawl into bed. I pull the covers over my head, using them as a shield against my reality, the emotions, and the numbing exhaustion.
My head aches, and my eyes sting, but I’m too drained even to cry.
The halo hums comfortingly, and I shift to lie on my side, brushing my fingers over the warm metal.
It glows faintly, illuminating my safe haven beneath the covers in a warm glow.
I can almost hear Connor asking me what’s wrong, but I don’t even know where to start.
“I’m directionless. Lost,” I finally whisper, answering the unspoken question.
“How?” I’m not sure how I understand the hums from the halo, but it’s almost like our connection gives me a direct channel to Connor and what he’s trying to say. Our own language that doesn’t just cross realms but spans the veil of life and death.
“I just am.”
The halo hums, mimicking Connor’s huff of amusement.
I pull a pillow under the blankets and curl around it. Closing my eyes, I concentrate, hoping I might be able to draw on the memory of being in Connor’s arms. Maybe if I focus, I will be able to feel his warmth seeping into?me.
The halo hums again.
“I’m light fae,” I say. It’s not new information, but it’s becoming more real every day.
I have no idea what it means or what to do about it, but I need to look into it because it is becoming increasingly clear that the threat I am facing is not only to my life, but to my loved ones as well.
Living in the dark has been my plan for twenty-eight years.
That was fine when it was just me, but I’ve already lost one person I love because of who I am.
I will not lose anyone else, and I don’t care who I have to destroy to protect them.
The halo hums again. He is obviously tapped into my thoughts, but I am not sure what he is trying to tell me.
“I don’t know what it means,” I murmur.
“You are you.” The words fill my mind along with the sense of acceptance and love that Connor has always shown me, and I can’t keep the tears from falling. He’s always known how to comfort me, and while I’m super grateful for this channel of communication with him, it hurts too.
I wake up in the same bedroom. The moment my eyes open, I sit up, the sheets pooling around my hips. I look down, and I see I am once again wearing lingerie, the same as last time. The stranger stands at the window looking out, and I glare at the back of his head.
“Gods, aren’t you bored with me yet?” I growl, not even bothering to cover myself up anymore.
His shoulders tense. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Bored with me?” he asks, his posture tight.
I narrow my eyes on his back. “I feel like I’ve been very clear that I want you to leave me alone,” I grumble.
His shoulders relax, and he chuckles, still not looking at me. “You’re dreaming of the forest in Avalon tonight. Feeling trapped?”
I hate how much he’s deciphered from such an innocuous detail. As if I have a say in what appears in this dream. I have no control over this particular dream. I don’t know how he has such insight, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of asking him to clarify.
The memory of my conversation with Rafe is fresh in my mind, about how he and Connor discussed the stranger.
He was worried, but he trusted me. Connor supported me, and he deserved so much better.
I know I should end this, make the stranger go, but I truly don’t know if I have the strength to fight him and deny myself. Just another way I failed Connor.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?” I ask. “I don’t want this, and I don’t want you here.”
He finally glances at me over his shoulder. His expression is barely visible thanks to the avatar, but I can tell he is unaffected by my words.
“Ready to practice?”
My brows draw. “Practice?” I echo.
“You need to train your mental walls. If I can step into your dreams, so can others.”
“Are you having some kind of episode? In what world do you think I would ever train with you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” he asks, his expression slipping into a glare.
“Is wanting you out of my life not enough of a reason?”
“No,” he says, darkness snapping off him.
I bristle. “Why?”
“You know why.” He turns to face me fully. “You face multiple threats, and you can train your body with your little gym pet, your power with your headmaster, but none of it will matter if your mental walls are paper-thin.”
My fists clench. I don’t know why it still surprises me when he knows things about me, but it does. What truly sets me on edge is the undercurrent of anger in his voice when he mentions Max. I even hear it regarding the headmaster.
“Not tonight,” I say, weariness tugging at me. “I need to rest.”
The stranger pushes off the wall and stalks over to me. He slips into the bed, making the mattress dip. He lies down, his back to me. “Rest,” he commands.
“Leave,” I growl, staring at his back and yanking at the sheets in frustration.
He shifts a little, tucking the sheet under his massive body, but otherwise, he ignores me.
I stare at his back, and my overeager mind replays the time I spent in his bed.
With a sigh that sounds a little like a growl, I lie down.
I so want to turn away from him, but I can’t forget what he said when he had me pinned up against the wall in his room.
My lies are for everyone else. All my truths are yours and yours alone.
He opened himself up to me today, and I can still sense the vulnerability he subjected himself to.
I know it’s not in his nature to do this, but he did it for me.
Truth be told, I am more than drawn to him, and even though I ran from him again today, he is never far from my thoughts.
My breaths grow shallow as my fingers itch again, and I slowly slide my hand over the sheets, inching closer to him.
His shoulders are so wide, his muscles rippling even when he is completely relaxed.
He is so powerful in every way, and it draws me like a moth to a flame.
He’s barely breathing, but when my fingers just lightly brush against his bare back, he lets out a soft moan at the barely there touch.
This isn’t his avatar. I can feel his skin, but I’m unable to see any of his face, and I don’t try.
My breath catches as he shifts back toward me, seeking more of my touch.
I slide my fingers over one of his scars, gently tracing the ragged edges.
He moans again, and this time it’s a little louder.
Within the confines of the dream, the rules are different.
He can feel me, and I can feel him, but he remains hidden.
I slide my fingers down his spine from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, my touch softer than a whisper.
The shudder that runs through his body is visceral, as if I’d stroked his soul.
I brush my fingers over one of his runes, and though the room is dark, with only a sliver of silvery light bouncing off the floor, I notice how it seems to shift beneath my touch.
I frown, and when it moves again, I tug my hand back, the foreign magic feeling odd against my skin.
As if afraid I am going to disappear, he reaches back and snares my wrist, placing my hand back against his bare skin.
He groans again, his body vibrating with it, and I wonder how deep his touch starvation goes.
“Turn around,” I say, and I’m not sure why I can’t settle into my resolve. Why do I constantly need more?
He hesitates, and I wonder if he is having the same internal battle between what he wants and what he should want.
If he is, he isn’t having any more success than I am, because he rolls toward me after a moment.
His chest looks different from what I’ve ever seen in his glamours.
It’s more defined and covered in expertly drawn runes.
This is him. I know it is, and if I thought his glamours were hot, they pale in comparison to the reality of him.
I look over his chest, memorizing every dip and curve.
His muscles seem to tighten under my scrutiny, and all I want to do is lick him from head to fucking toe .
I have to resist, but I have no idea how.
I meet his gaze. His face is still blurred, concealing his identity, but I can see his eyes glowing.
“Touch,” he says. It’s a plea cloaked in a command, and what I hear in his voice weakens me even further.
“I?.?.?.” Shit, this is a bad idea. What is happening to me?
I need to hate him, to despise him, but I don’t fight him when he wraps his big hand around my wrist and guides my hand to his pec, brushing my fingers over the hard muscle.
A low groan vibrates through his chest, and I dig my nails in a little, testing what he likes and dislikes. What I like?.?.?.
“More,” he moans, and the desperate need I hear in him touches a piece of me I would prefer stay dormant.
Gods.
“Stranger,” I say, about to pull my hand back, reaching for my last drop of resistance, but he still has a hold on my wrist. He moves my hand to his neck and pulls me in close, his other hand sliding below my waist. I barely breathe, afraid to move at all.
“More,” he whispers on a breathy sigh of pleasure, and the smell of bourbon and mint from his breath wraps around me, enticing me.
I trail my fingers along his neck and down over his shoulder, following the dips and curves of sinew and muscle.
My gaze remains on his face, watching transfixed as his eyes flutter closed.
I continue my exploration of his body, trailing my fingertips down his strong arms, watching as his lips part, and he starts to pant softly.
My own breaths grow shallow as my fingers blindly explore his scars and runes, my power rousing in response to the strange power coming from his moving runes.
“All of me,” he whispers.