Page 129 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Emrys looms above me, a dark figure silhouetted against the dim, stable light. As my eyes adjust, his features sharpen into focus, shadows dancing across the planes of his achingly handsome face. Black brows arch high, coppery eyes wide, rosy lips parted in surprise.
Fuck, he’s so attractive—my first thought.
Shit, I’m dead—my second.
He releases the door. It slams shut, trapping me inside. Movement behind him catches my eye—Puck’s auburn hair receding as he flees, kicking up the straw. He escapes through the door at the far end, slamming it behind him.
Emrys recovers quickly, his face twisting into a mask of fury. He grabs my shirt, yanks me to my feet, and slams me against the door.
“Ow.” I scowl.
“How much did you hear?” he snarls, his breath hot on my face.
“Enough,” I reply, struggling to keep my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me.
His eyes flash dangerously. “Enough what?”
I meet his gaze defiantly. “Enough to know something’s very wrong in here.”
For a moment, I see the promise of death in his eyes. This is my last minute on earth. But then a deafening crack splits the air, wood splintering around us.
The Nightmares rattle their stalls, their unearthly shrieks piercing the chaos. I catch glimpses of writhing shadows through tiny gaps beneath and above the doors.
I don’t realize how close I am to a structural pole until Emrys yanks me away just before it turns to stone. We stand there, stunned, as the outer building morphs from wood into solid rock. When the booming transformation finally ceases, even the Nightmares fall silent. Emrys’s eyes drop to where his gloved hand still fists my cape. He gasps and lets go, stepping back.
“What just happened?” I whisper, my heart pounding against my ribs.
“That fucking prick,” he spits, his expression a mix of rage and disbelief. “He seeks to trap us in here together.”
I take in the tense set of his shoulders, how his gloved hands creak, clench, and unclench at his sides. His eyes dart around the room, assessing our situation with a predator’s keen gaze. Despite the dire circumstances, there’s a part of him that seems almost . . . aroused by the challenge.
Or by me.
“Why would Puck trap us?” I ask slowly.
“Oh, Willow,” he says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “you have no idea what you’ve stumbled into.”
Emrys turns his attention to our entrapments. His gloved fingers trace the newly formed patterns in the stone walls—swirls and symbols that seem to shift when I look at themdirectly. The straw carpeting the floor beneath our feet rumbles subtly as if the magic is still settling.
“What have I stumbled into, Emrys?”
“Somewhere you’re not welcome.” His hand pauses mid-swipe along the existing door frame. “But since you’re here, maybe it’s time you learned a few things about the world you’re so eager to rule.”
I gape at him. “I don’t want to rule it. Is that what you really think of me?”
“Rule, save, destroy. It’s all the same to you queens.”
“Not a queen,” I remind him dryly. “A mate.”
The look in his eyes is a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else—a hint of dark curiosity that makes my breath catch.
A low, ominous groan echoes through the stables. The stone walls shudder. Hairline cracks form along the seams of the solid stall doors. Sensing weakness, the Nightmares begin their cacophony anew, their cries more frenzied than before.
“Those doors will hold, right?” I ask. “We’re safe?”
“You’re never safe with me.”
His bitter laugh sends chills down me, shaking loose a tingling between my legs. With a gasp, I realize I’m attracted to this side of him—the cruelty, the danger. It calls to that dark place inside me, the deep reservoir capable of destruction. It wants to be filled, to have a companion, just like the other, warmer parts of my soul.
