Asylum (Touched by the Fae 1)

“Dance with me, Riley.”

I almost hurl.

Dance with me, Riley.

He knew my name then, too. He commanded me to dance, then he commanded me to leave with him, and I refused. Just like now, my refusal surprised him that day in the basement. I tried to warn Madelaine, I tried to tell her that he was beautiful, but he was fae, and that made him more dangerous than anything she’d ever known before.

Sometimes, on my worse days, I remember the look of betrayal in her big brown eyes the instant before he took her hand, then snapped her neck.

“Never.”

“Zella. Dance.”

There’s that word again. I hear it and I’m helpless to do anything except obey.

Under the sway of his power, I lift my hand and press my palm against his. I don’t know what’s worse: the spark, the sizzle when our bare skin touches, or how his long, lean perfect fingers make mine look like they belong on Frankenstein. My stomach twists. My mouth clamps shut, choking on a silent scream. I try to yank my hand back and I can’t. I just can’t.

His other hand is a brand on my hip. I feel the heat through my Black Pine tee. When he pulls me closer, lining my front along his lean, muscular body, it’s like I’m burning up inside. He’s full of fire and temptation, burning bright as the sun, and his golden eyes flash as he tilts his head, gobbling me up with his gaze.

“Zella,” he murmurs again. “Stay with me.”

I give in. I can’t fight it. Knowing it’s a dream, praying that this doesn’t mean a thing, I recognize that some part of me doesn’t want to pull away from him. For years, I used to hate Madelaine for giving up so easily, falling prey to this monster’s charm before he snapped, but I can’t help myself. Everything from his soft voice to his mesmerizing eyes is hypnotic. If he killed me right now, I don’t think I would do a single thing to stop it.

I don’t like the idea of dying. I want to live. In two weeks… two weeks and a couple of days… I’ll be released from the asylum. No

t free, though. His hand against mine, his body against mine, his soft voice echoing around me as he starts to sing… I figure out something that will be devastating when this dream is over.

Now that the golden fae has found me again? I’ll never be free.

Music starts to play. A soft hum, it tickles my ears, makes me forget that I’m playing with fire. Literally. I’ve seen the golden fae create enchanted fire with the snap of his fingers. It’s how I burned my hands, after all. After throwing Madelaine’s broken body on the floor, he surrounded her in a circle of fire, daring me to save my sister.

I couldn’t save Madelaine then. Something tells me that there’s no saving me now, either.

So I dance.

It’s easy to lose myself in the sensation. With his help, I move so lightly that it’s as if I’m drifting up off of the floor. He laughs softly in time to the music, a mix of a chuckle and a sigh.

I keep my eyes closed so that I don’t have to look at his.

I don’t know how long we’re dancing for when he speaks again. I hear him clearly, his mouth right next to my cheek as he whispers, “You know what I am.”

I’ve always known. “Yes.”

“But you don’t know who I am.”

I know enough. He’s the golden fae. A monster. The creature who killed Madelaine.

The creature who’s trying to seduce me right now.

I’m not innocent. I’m not all that naive, either. I wasn’t always in a good foster home; I spent the long months in between in the system, bouncing from group homes to institutions. I lost my virginity at thirteen with an older boy before I went to live with the Everetts, before my haphephobia got so bad. When I could give permission, I actually liked being touched. It’s just… when you start to see monsters everywhere, it’s hard to know who to trust.

I know better than to trust him. A dance is just a dance, even if the way he’s moving right now reminds me of so much more.

But not with him. Never with him.

He presses closer.

“Do you want to know who I am?” he whispers.