But as Colt walks away muttering something about making me coffee, a question digs into my mind.
Kaelisar's voice at the end of the dream... was it part of the dream? Or was it real?
What if the whole dream wasn't mine?
I bring my hands to my face, trying to think. The images are still there, fragments I can't organize. The cold water. The moss. The heat. The three of them, together, surrounding me...
But now, besides arousal, I feel something else: fear.
Is it something natural? Or is it another form of Kaelisar's manipulation?
What I feel for them, is it real, or are they putting it in my head?
“Are you going to tell me what the hell that book is? Did you steal it? It looks valuable,” Colt insists, returning to my bedroom again.
I breathe deeply and try to organize my thoughts. The images from the dream are still too present, too... real. I can still smell the scent of damp earth, the vines holding my wrists while Sylara kissed me on...
“I acquired it through non-traditional means,” I admit with a sigh, using our usual euphemism for theft.
Colt looks impressed.
“It must be worth a ton of money. Do you need a contact to sell it? Because I know a guy who collects antiques and...”
“It's not for sale,” I interrupt with a firmness that surprises him. “It's... a special commission.”
“A commission? From who?” His expression becomes very serious. He frowns while watching me with curiosity. “Have you gotten into something dangerous? Because lately you've been acting strange, disappearing for hours, coming back with that lost look...”
I let out a long breath while rubbing my temples. How do I explain that I've discovered I'm half Fae? That I can control air? That an elf, a siren, and a fire Kobold are teaching me to use magic to steal something ancient that I don't even know what it does? That we're doing it on orders from an exiled Fae king who apparently is a very dangerous psychopath?
And worse, that my subconscious has decided I want to sleep with all three?
At the same time?
“Nothing to worry about,” I assure him, making a gesture with my hand as if swatting away a fly. “How about I make you pancakes for breakfast?”
His face lights up instantly. I never cook, unless it's a special occasion or I'm trying to distract Colt from something important, of course.
But he also knows when not to push and give me space.
“With chocolate, please,” he requests with a childish smile before leaving my room so I can get dressed.
I shake my head.
I need a cold shower.
Very cold.
Chapter 11
Nell
Colt devours his third plate of chocolate pancakes while I play with mine, still unable to get the too-real memories of my dream out of my head.
“So...” Colt begins, talking with his mouth full. “Are you still seeing that girl from Estonia? The tall blonde who looks like a model.”
I almost choke on my coffee.
“Sylara,” I murmur, trying to maintain a casual tone. “Yeah, now and then.”
