“Take my fear,” he clarified. The lines of Laurie’s face were hard, somehow, and he said the words firmly. As if he’d brook no refusal.
He knew, then, about the rush of euphoria and strength that came with using my power. Maybe it was that way for every Fallen creature. It wouldn’t heal my ravaged body, but it would provide enough endurance to get us out of this tunnel.
I struggled to think of all the reasons why this was a bad idea. The first one that came to mind was, refreshingly, of the consequences. Things had been changing between me and Laurie. If I did this, if I saw something in his head about me, there would be no more pretending. No going back to the safe guise of friendship and that platonic divide.
It was a risk I had to take. In the time it took Laurie’s arm to heal, the cherubim could wake up and detect us here. That gate didn’t look very promising against a horde of monsters.
“Don’t fight me,” I whispered to Laurie. “If you fight me, it’ll hurt more.”
He nodded, still keeping all emotion from his face. He didn’t make any of his suggestive comments as I put my bloody hands on his arms. I hadn’t used my abilities since their return, but even if they had reverted to those of an ordinary Nightmare, I didn’t need to touch Laurie—we’d already had physical contact. I didn’t know why I took hold of him like that, and I decided not to think about it.
I closed my eyes and delved into the shadow world.
Despite how recently I’d regained my abilities as a Nightmare, it was as easy as breathing. Some part of me had been worried the dragonfire changed everything. I released a breath of relief and concentrated on Laurie again.
For the first time, I went near his powerful mind and it was completely vulnerable. I couldn’t deny a whisper of curiosity. Giving in to the urge, I placed myself within Laurie’s memory palace and opened my eyes again.
It didn’t surprise me in the least that behind the massive, impenetrable wall he’d erected, there was a hedge maze. What did surprise me was the glittering layer of frost covering every leaf and stone. The sky above, though nighttime, was lit up with galaxies of colors, darkness, and stars.
Something about this place made me think of Collith.
An ache started in my chest. In the next breath, desperate to forget the faerie king I’d left at the Unseelie Court, I began running through the maze.
I couldn’t resist teasing Laurie a bit. I expected a shopping mall, I said. He didn’t answer—he was on edge, fighting the instinct to push me out of his head—but an image of his smile flitted through my own thoughts. It was a confirmation, as if I needed one, of how powerful Laurie truly was. Few people had the ability to communicate with me while I was violating their innermost selves.
I kept going. As usual, the smallest fears were the most readily available to my call. I was faintly amused to discover that Laurie was afraid of horses. Have you seen their teeth? he demanded, picking up on this. I could feel his indignation, in addition to hearing it.
You would know, considering you were probably alive when people still rode them for transportation, I countered. Once again, there was a faint note of teasing in my tone.
But Laurie didn’t respond, and I realized that I was trying to fall back into our usual rhythm. I was so desperate to draw that familiar line between us that I’d forgotten the severity of why I was in Laurie’s head. We didn’t have time for this. I took a mental breath and continued through the twists of the maze.
I had assumed Laurie was a younger faerie. I remembered Collith mentioning that they’d grown up together, and I knew my ex had been born in this century. But the moments and images and memories I moved past in Laurie’s mind were older. I could only see the things tinged in fear, but they were vibrant as the faerie himself. I saw horse-drawn carriages. Steaming locomotives. Flappers and big-wheeled automobiles.
Then there was Laurie. I saw him as a toddler, doted on by all the palace servants. That didn’t change as he aged. Although I’d seen dozens of fae children and teenagers during my time at the Unseelie Court, it was strange to see Laurie as one. None of these tiny, harmless fears would give me what I needed. I had to go deeper.
I didn’t want to do this, I realized suddenly. It was in my nature to hunt and feast, but at some point in these past few weeks, Laurie had become family. I wouldn’t purposefully hurt him any more than I would hurt Damon, Matthew, Emma, or any of the other people who had claimed pieces of my heart.
At least I had learned one thing from this experiment—using my powers hadn’t made me become the dark creature I’d been before. I wasn’t the power-hungry villainess Gwyn had foretold. Not yet.
I was still in the maze when Laurie spoke again. Why are you hesitating? he asked. Go for the kill, Firecracker.
Every second I remained frozen in indecision was another second we were in danger. Nodding, I returned to the wintry maze and hurried down more seemingly endless rows of hedges. I counted in my head, trying to keep track of time. So far I’d been in here for a minute. I’d give myself one more. After that, we’d simply have to wait for Laurie’s arm to heal.
It turned out, I didn’t need another minute. I didn’t find the center. What I did find, though, was the truth. It lurked in a shadowed corner like most truths did.
Unlike the majority of my victims, there was no significant memory attached to his greatest fear. Laurie hadn’t experienced much trauma or pain, because he’d always been clever, charming… and elusive. He didn’t often get attached and his abilities made it easy to remove himself from any situation. But Laurie knew himself. He was a person constantly in motion. He thrived off it.
Which was why, above all else, he feared being immobilized. Trapped. Crippled.
An idea bloomed in my head. A way to show Laurie some of the kindness he’d shown me, but still borrow the strength I needed for us to escape that rank tunnel. I hadn’t forgotten the danger we were in, out in the real world. This felt just as important, somehow.
Swallowing, I weaved the hallucination around Laurie like a spiderweb. No, I thought, wincing at the thought. Like a tapestry.
“Open your eyes,” I whispered.
But Laurie didn’t. He felt the seat beneath him, and though he couldn’t see it, he knew it was a wheelchair. I saw his fingers close into fists on top of the armrests. His jaw clenched. Terror filled the air and rushed through me.
Ignoring the instinct to revel in it, I knelt between Laurie’s legs. Even now, he wouldn’t move or speak. I leaned forward to cup his face. I pressed my lips to his, just once, testing.
Laurie visibly startled—he was so focused on the chair, on what he’d lost, that even his quick mind took a moment to process what was happening.
When he did recover, Laurie’s mouth moved against mine with the same skill he’d displayed outside Creiddylad’s tomb. One of his hands rose, and I felt his fingers bury in my hair, pulling me even closer. In a way, it felt like our first kiss, because the others hadn’t been entirely my choice. Laurie used just the right amount of tongue, and the sensual sound he made lit a fire inside me. Of its own volition, my hand slid down his chest, along the length of his hard stomach, and finally stopped on the bulge in his dress pants. I rubbed it, making a breathy sound of my own, and Laurie’s grip on me tightened. One of his hands dropped, tugging what remained of my shirt down as it went. He brushed my nipple with the pad of his thumb.