“Are you done?” I asked lightly.
“Yes. Now, about the hotel room we’ll be reserving. I have a place in mind. Tell me, are you afraid of heights?”
“Laurie.” My voice was terse. The prince raised his eyebrows and waited for me to go on, as if he had no idea why I was annoyed. Anyone who didn’t know him might believe he was wholly unbothered. Forgetting my mortification, I gave Laurie a hard look from the corner of my eye before refocusing on the road. “You didn’t kill Naevys, okay? You did something reckless and impulsive that went horribly wrong.”
“You would know,” Laurie said, but there was no bite in the words. The light in his eyes was sad, the subtle tilt to his lips more rueful than mischievous.
“You’re right. I would know,” I replied. Silence rang through the small space. Humans always had a response at the ready. Humans avoided sitting in stillness. But as I’d recently pointed out to Laurie, we weren’t humans. My vulnerability floated all around, and we existed in it, breathing it in and out.
The van rolled over a pothole in the road, making both of us lurch in our seats. It brought the moment to an abrupt end. I cleared my throat. “Jesus. Who knew I’d be having two therapy sessions today? Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”
Laurie smiled faintly, and it seemed as though he was about to answer when his eyes flicked downward. His voice was just a bit too casual as he questioned, “What is that?”
My stomach dropped. I followed his gaze and saw that my bruises were peeking out—leftovers from when that giant had sent me flying into a rock wall. I tugged my shirt back into place and shrugged, staying focused on the road. “I fell.”
“You didn’t even put effort into that lie. I can only assume that means I should keep asking until I get the truth.”
“You wouldn’t believe the truth.”
“Try me.”
“Fine.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter and resolved to keep my response shorter this time. “After my parents died, I felt scared and alone. While Damon and I were at our first foster home, I started dreaming about someone. A boy, who became my best friend. I named him Oliver. Dave and Maureen weren’t worried, at first—they thought I was just pretending. That it was a coping mechanism. But years went by and I was still talking about Ollie. Eventually I got smart enough to stop mentioning him. That didn’t make him fade, though. Even now, he’s still there every night I fall asleep.”
Here I paused, my attention snagged by thoughts of the Oliver I’d left only a few hours ago.
“None of this explains the bruises,” Laurie prompted.
“I was getting to that, damn it. Recently, Oliver discovered… memories. My memories, hidden in the furthest recesses of my mind. But they’re not easy to reach, because they’re guarded by things. Creatures, if you can call them that. Manifestations of the stories Mom used to tell me.”
“And you got those bruises facing one of them?” Laurie asked, his voice sharp. “They were on your body when you woke up?”
I looked at him sidelong, frowning. “Yes. Do you know something I don’t?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t keep it from you. Not about this. Those bruises must’ve been significant if they’re still so visible. Does Collith know? About the dreams?”
“He knows the basics. We haven’t exactly been on friendly terms, so I haven’t made him aware of recent developments.”
Laurie made a thoughtful sound. Then the exit for Granby appeared, and I turned on the blinker. It clicked into the silence.
“You don’t have to go back tonight, you know,” Laurie ventured. Surprised, I glanced over at him again. His bright eyes held mine, and they shone with sincerity now. “I saw the way you looked at Stone Hall. I hadn’t realized, until that moment, how little of the world you’ve experienced. It’s a big place, Fortuna, infinitely bigger than the darkness you’ve seen. Let me show it to you.”
Heat built between my legs, responding to the promise in his voice. I shook my head and let out a breath at the same time. “When you say things like that…”
“What? It makes this more difficult to deny? You’re fixated on Collith because you met him first,” Laurie said matter-of-factly. “Because I didn’t fall at your feet with unquestioning devotion.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel, Laurie.” I meant the words to be sharp, as if they were edged with broken glass, but I just sounded tired. Laurie was silent. Staring toward the dark horizon, I felt my lips curve into a bemused smile. “I tell you about the imaginary friend who lives inside my head. I say that creatures from a dream are hurting me. Your response, instead of running in the opposite direction, is to whisk me away on the trip of a lifetime. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to figure out how your mind works, Laur, and I’ve been in it.”
He shrugged, his arm dangling off the center console. “What can I say? Like calls to like.”
I was about to respond when I felt Laurie’s fingertips brush against my stomach. I sucked in a breath, wondering when he’d moved. A moment later, Laurie undid the button on my jeans, and I held the steering wheel tight. “We shouldn’t…”
“Why? Because you’re fucking Collith?” he asked. I went still with surprise, and Laurie flicked his finger inside my jeans. I was still forming a response, or trying to, when he pulled his hand away and left my skin cold. “I agree that we shouldn’t take this further tonight, but it’s not because of anyone else. I simply require my sexual partners to be in the right frame of mind for our exploits, and having attended therapy myself once or twice, I know from personal experience that immediately afterward is not an ideal time to make decisions.”
“Or maybe it’s the best time to make decisions,” I said wistfully, aching where Laurie’s fingers had touched and teased.
He smirked. “Now you just want me because you can’t have me.”
“There you go again, telling me how I feel.”
“I know you feel hungry. I could hear your stomach from across the Atlantic.”
Laurie leaned close. His tongue flicked out and teased the sensitive shell of my ear. Goosebumps raced over my skin, and they lingered when he expelled a faint breath along the curve of my neck.
“How do you feel now?” Laurie whispered.
Then I blinked, and he was gone.
“Frustrated,” I said to the empty van. “I feel frustrated. Confused, too. Oh, and hungry, may as well add that to the list.”
My skin was hot. I rolled down the window and reveled in the icy wind. I cranked the volume up and scream-sang the rest of the drive home.
When I parked next to the barn, I immediately spotted a splash of white on the ground—there was something resting in front of the door. My frown cleared when I remembered Laurie’s comment about my stomach.
In the short time it had taken me to drive home, he had gotten a pound of food and left it here for me to find.
“Show off,” I said, glancing around for any sign of silver eyes or the shimmer of magic. Only snow-covered trees stared back, the air adrift with the faint sounds of winter.
Smiling, I picked up the grease-stained bag and went inside.