Page 28 of Of Wind and Terror

He looks like Draven, but on closer inspection, I see minuscule differences between this male and the Night Prince.

For one, the prisoner doesn’t have the jagged scar that Draven has. And secondly, there’s a…warmth in this male’s eyes that I can’t imagine Draven possessing. It softens his features in a way that demotes him from terrifying to approachable.

The fae gapes up at me in stark disbelief, his silver eyes blinking rapidly. And then, in a voice that’s a mere rasp of air, he whispers, “Kassandra.”

I furrow my brows.

“How do you know my name?” I sign at the Draven lookalike, wondering if he knows Falkan.

But the strange fae doesn’t even take a moment to answer. “Because I know you. You’re here. You’re really here.”

He slowly crawls forward until he’s able to place his hands on the cell bars. His fingers are caked in grime and some other unsavory substance I don’t recognize. I notice a strange cuff around his right wrist. It’s silver in color and has unfamiliar markings inscribed on its side.

“I’m dreaming,” I sign to him. Then I cock my head to the side. “At least, I was dreaming. I think Draven brought me here.”

A headache forms behind my eyes, and I bring my hand up to rub at it.

I always feel so disoriented and confused whenever I’m brought to…wherever I am currently. I don’t quite understand how Draven’s powers work. According to Mikage, my soul leaves my body and comes here, to the Night Kingdom. But how do I have a body if my real body remains behind? Why can I talk in some dreams and not in others?

Is this even real? Or is this just a figment of my imagination? Perhaps I truly am dreaming. This could be nothing but a construct of my mind.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost miss the venomous rage that distorts the male’s features. His upper lip peels away from his teeth in a snarl.

“That…male is not Draven. He’s a Gaiadamn imposter!”

And then, to my absolute horror, the strange male’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and his body begins to shake.

I reach towards the bars in alarm, my heart somewhere in the vicinity of my throat, when darkness rushes over me.

“Kassandra.” Something soft presses against my forehead. Lips. Feather-like and tantalizing. “Little beast. You’re shaking.”

Consciousness returns to me slowly. Groggily. I blink once, twice, three times, and when I can finally focus, I see Blaze peering down at me. There’s a warmth in his eyes that I’ve never seen before, a softness that’s almost a dichotomy to his rugged appearance. He gently runs the pad of his finger over my lips as I work to get my bearings.

“How long have you been awake?” I sign, blinking.

Blaze continues to trace the contours of my face. “A while now,” he confesses, and his low, husky voice seems to cascade through me in a way that’s almost carnal.

Heat bursts to life in my stomach.

Our night before comes rushing back to me, and that now-familiar fire tornadoes through my body.

Whatever Blaze sees on my face causes him to grin slyly.

“I can’t believe we did that,” I say, still blushing.

Blaze lowers his face to the column of my throat and begins to plant teasing kisses on the skin there.

“Did you dream of me?” he asks huskily, his breath fanning against my breastbone.

Did I dream of him?

What did I dream of?

It feels important to remember, but for some reason, the memory eludes me.

Or maybe Blaze’s lips on my skin is causing my brain to break.

Did I really go that far? With Blaze? I don’t know how I feel about that, about him. On one hand, my body burns in a way it never has before, and there are feelings growing inside of me that I didn’t know existed. On the other, I’ve seen firsthand how cruel and malicious the Fall Prince can be. Does he even care about me beyond my body? Do I even want him to?

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