“We both are.”
“If this is a dream, why can’t I make clothes vanish?” Ani spoke to herself as much as to him. She reached out to his jeans. “Buttons. Zippers. It’s silly to have these in a dream.”
He didn’t resist. “It is. They’re a nuisance in the waking world too.”
Ani gasped as he slid his hand under the edge of her shirt. “I’m dreaming.”
“Yes, but this”—his fingers curled around her side— “is”—he tugged her closer—“real too.”
Then he kissed her, emotions raw and available. When he pulled back, he told her, “You were the one who stopped, Ani. Not me.”
“For your own good,” she reminded.
“You underestimate me.” He wasn’t walking away, nor was he weakened by the energy she was drowning in. “Don’t walk away this time.”
For a beautiful moment, she was reminded of the first instant when she’d seen him, shadowed and looking like trouble. She’d thought him like Irial then, but as she pulled him to the sand with her, she admitted that Devlin had replaced Irial as her fantasy that very day.
She unbuttoned his jeans and gave herself over to the kisses she’d craved.
Ani jolted awake still in Devlin’s arms, but they were in the motel—not on the beach. For a moment, there were more emotions washing over her than she’d thought she could swallow. She closed her eyes and let the skin contact and emotional deluge fill her up, but touching could be enough to weaken him if he was letting his emotions free simultaneously. It wasn’t as bad as kissing, but it was still dangerous.
“Stop… something,” she whispered.
Rather than stop holding her, he walled his feeling up. He ran his fingers through her hair, tugging gently as the sleep snarls caught on his fingers.
Ani felt better than she had since she discovered her dual appetites. “I’m… sated.”
“You sound surprised.” His hand continued down her shoulder and onto her arm.
“It’s the first time.” She kissed him quickly, lips closed, and then rolled over and stretched. “Ever.”
“Good.” He didn’t move at all or have any inflection in his voice.
The lack of emotion was so different from the version of him in her dream that she felt a foolish surge of sadness. In her dream, Devlin had no barriers, no hesitation, no impenetrable wall. He’d reached for her hand. He hadn’t needed to hide his feelings.
But that wasn’t real.
In the real world, Devlin couldn’t kiss her with his emotions laid bare: she’d drain the life from him.
“Do you want to shower before we leave?” She sat cross- legged beside him.
He still hadn’t moved. His brow was furrowed, and his emotions were locked down. “We should talk.”
“About?” Her heart began to race, pounding like a drum.
Not all faeries had the same sensitivities, but she’d begun to realize that Devlin was attuned to Hunt-like qualities. Her thrumming pulse was as clear to him as a thundering bass would be to most faeries.
“I received a message—”
“Wait.” She put her hands on the mattress on either side of his still bare chest, bracing herself as she leaned over him. She kissed him for just a moment, lost herself in the touch of his lips against hers, his breath tangled with hers, his skin against hers.
His hands were on her hips, not pulling her closer or pushing her away, just keeping her steady. It wasn’t like the dream, but it wasn’t all restraint either. He stared up at her curiously for a moment. Her heart raced just as loud, but now it was the right sort of reason.
She leaned back and sat atop his legs. “Okay.”
To his credit, he didn’t question her actions. He resumed his sentence: “I received a message that requires a change to our plans.”
“When?”