Page 171 of Flirting with Darkness

“Did you put us in the same dream?”

Another rattle, then the fire flared into life.

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Magic house. It’s always the bloody magic house.”

I half-laughed, half-sighed my relief and let my fingers trace one of the lines inked on his shoulder. “I’m glad you were there.”

His gaze slid from the fireplace to me as his brows rose.

“I was scared, but you made me feel safe. And”—I looked away with a lopsided smile—“I had fun before that. It might’ve only been a dream, but I’m still claiming it as my first ball.”

“Huh.” It wasn’t quite his usual flat hum, and it didn’t go as far as a full-blown chuckle, but something in between. He pulled me closer, the movement so subtle he might not have been conscious of it.

Suddenly, I was very aware that I only wore a lightweight nightgown and he a pair of shorts. He cradled me so well, his broad shoulders curving around me like a shield. Except shields weren’t so warm and didn’t have this layer of soft flesh that rose in goosebumps under my hands.

I followed the silvery line of a scar with my fingertips. The ball might’ve been a dream, but he had been real. That meant his reason for helping me and the story about that mob were also real. My heart clenched—my jaw, too.

“Rose,” he rumbled, and I felt it in every part of me.

Dragging in a breath, I met his gaze.

“I’m glad I was there to protect you. Not sure I’d have told you about my scars if I’d known it wasn’t a dream version of you I was telling, but…” He pressed his lips together as though unsure how to continue—or whether he should. “You made me feel safe enough to tell you.”

My heart went from shrivelling at what had seemed like his regret, to filling. The taciturn, grumpy Faolán had opened up a crack to me and wasn’t now, in the cold light of day that crept in around the edges of the curtains, trying to deny it or close back up.

Fuck. It made me want to kiss him all over again—for real, this time.

But I’d kissed him because I’d thought it a dream. That wasn’t complicated—there were no consequences of dreams. But now? This?

This could get very complicated.

Still, my traitorous fingers planed along his shoulder, up the side of his neck. They didn’t understand complicated.

I cleared my throat and opened up a little distance between us—distance where I wasn’t sitting in his warm breath, half pressed against his broad chest. “I’m glad you told me, and I’m glad you felt safe with me.” I smiled even as I forced my muscles to obey orders to slip from his hold and the bed. Each movement was stiff, but I marched myself into the bathroom and closed the door.

I bathed, scrubbing for longer than was necessary and splashing myself with cold water, before returning to our room and choosing an outfit for the day. Faolán gave no input on my clothing. He didn’t speak to me at all.

If it really was him in my dream, that meant the care and attention, the determination to not be what they said—that was all him, too. And my admiration of him was all real.

And he really had helped me for my sake—the only selfish angle being to spare his own conscience.

No sooner had I emerged from behind the dressing screen, than the air before the fireplace shimmered.

I froze, eyes wide. “Faolán?”

Dark lines appeared, two vertical, two horizontal. Smoke—no,shadowpoured through.

“Hmpf. About bloody time,” he muttered, coming to my side. “Don’t worry, little flower. Just a visitor.”

The lines connected, forming a large rectangle—a door, I realised just before it swung open. Inside was darkness, pure shadow, then through stepped a man.

I stared. I couldn’t help it.

With his straight nose and full lips, he was handsome. Almost beautiful, though the faint scar running through one side of his mouth and down to his chin stopped him quite crossing that line.

But where Faolán was all rough-hewn lines, like a stone wall or one of Ari’s sketched designs, this man—another fae—was solid, sharp edges like a finely carved statue or something wrought by the blacksmith.

Where Faolán was a shield, this man was a blade.

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