“Were they lying?”
He looked off for a long moment before muttering his answer. “No.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted and laughed at the same time, but still didn’t move his arm from around her shoulders. If anything, he pulled her against him in slight squeeze. “Simon.”
“What?”
“What’re you doing?”
“By God, you really are a slow one, aren’t you?” He leaned closer, and before she could react, he had grabbed her legs and pulled them across his lap. She was now sitting sideways on the sofa, and he was caging her in with his arms on either side of her. His face hovered close to hers.
The smell of an antique store and cologne came over her again. A thousand different scents of old things, of leather, of dust. Of places and things to explore. He was warm. She could feel the heat from him against her. It was something she hadn’t experienced for five years—being near someone.
Stunned, she didn’t know what to do. He was a madman. He wanted to turn her into one of his dolls—whatever that meant—but he was captivating. God help her, something about him caught her breath in her throat.
He was monstrous. He was wicked. He was beautiful. He watched her with those fiendishly colored eyes, and she saw desire in them. She saw mischief. She wanted to know what he was planning…because she might want it a little bit, too.
He watched her like a cat with a wounded bird that knew its victory was sealed, but was still dragging out the moment for a bit more fun. He lowered himself just a little closer, forcing her to lean back against the armrest. His lips ghosted over her cheek and wandered to her ear. His breath pooled against her, and goosebumps rushed down her arms.
“I want you, Cora,” he murmured. “I want you in every way you’ll let me have you. There. Is that more direct?”
Her stomach felt like it dropped off a cliff. She didn’t know what to do. Her hands were tangled in his vest, and she couldn’t find the strength to push him away. She could only hold on for dear life.
“I can take away all your pain. All the agony you wake up to in the morning from that poor shoulder of yours, I can remove. I don’t want to kill you, my sweet, tasty little cupcake. I want to keep you. You will live on for a long time…somewhere you belong. Somewhere you’ll be cared for. Somewhere you’ll be protected. And you won’t ever be alone.” All his words were barely more than a whisper. “You will save yourself…and your friend. It isn’t a curse. It’s a trade.”
He moved back just far enough to look down at her, bizarrely colored eyes boring into hers. She felt like she had forgotten how to breathe. And any hope of fixing the situation was crushed when he kissed her.
His hand laced into her hair at the back of her neck, cradling her head as he pressed his lips to hers. It was slow. It was sensual. It felt like the definition of sin itself. It wasn’t rough, and it wasn’t harsh. It was gentle and passionate. But all the same, the embrace was possessive. It was stealing a part of her, just as the Faire had done. It felt like he was taking a part of her soul with every second he worked his lips against hers.
When he finally broke away from her, she was trembling. She had her hands pressed to his chest, but she was shaking too much to decide if she was trying to pull him closer or push him away.
“Cora…” He slid his hand from her hair to cradle her face. He stroked his thumb along her cheek. “That was…that was glorious. That was delectable. Yes, in fact, I think I shall have another, thank you for asking…” He leaned in, and she pushed against him. He hesitated. “Hm?”
“No.” She struggled to fill her lungs. How could a person be out of breath in a dream? “Please.”
He pulled a little farther back. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Am I a bad kisser? No one’s ever complained before. What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing—I just—I can’t.”
He sat back. “Did I misjudge? Or did I simply get ahead of myself again?”
“No, it’s…” She pulled her legs off his lap until she was sitting next to him cross-legged. She felt like she was shaking like a leaf. “It’s too much all at once.”
“I’ve been told I am that.” He smirked and lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I don’t want to hurt you, Cora. I don’t want to do anything of the sort. I’m trying to give us both what we want. You will be cured of your pain, and your friend will survive. And I…get you.” He wove his fingers into hers and kissed the side of them, slower than the first time.
“I’m not special. I’m not interesting. I don’t understand...” Stop kissing me. Don’t stop kissing me. I need serious therapy.
“Ah, but you are. There is a bright fire that burns within you. You were made to fit into a life that is not worthy of you.”
She finally pulled her hand from his. She chewed her lip. She felt as though there were butterflies in her chest. His touch did something to her. Something that was dangerous. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“I don’t want to die.” She tried to hide her face.
“It isn’t death.” He caught her chin with the crook of his finger and turned her back to look at him. “Come see me tomorrow. I will show you. I will let you decide. This choice will be yours to make. If you don’t want freedom from the pain—if you don’t want to save your friend—you can walk away.”
“How can I trust you? How do I know that…that becoming one of your dolls will save Trent? The two don’t seem connected. Explain to me how they’re linked.”
Simon went silent for a long moment. He was clearly debating telling her something. He watched her. He shrugged, seemingly coming to a decision. “Clever. No, Cora. They aren’t.”
“So…you admit you’re lying.”
“No. Not quite.” He slowly combed his fingers through his hair. “The Faire wants you. It whispers to you. It has never done that to anyone. The Faire is what is threatening your friend. It is doing so to draw you in. This is at odds with what I want, Cora dear. I want you for my own. It wants to take you from me. I am trying to ensure this doesn’t happen.”
“What does it want with me?”
“I only have a theory.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t want to worry you needlessly.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Cora narrowed her eyes at him. “So…if you turn me into one of your dolls, which I still don’t understand what that means, Trent might still die. Because it’s the Faire threatening him, not you.”
“Once you’re no longer available to the Faire, your friend will be useless to it. It will have no reason to hurt him.”
“Do you know for sure, or is that just a theory?”
He laughed at her turning his words back around on him. “Clever. Yes.” Simon smiled sweetly. It was a bad attempt. “But my theories are generally accurate.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. He was frustrating. She wanted to slap him. “You’ll tell me one theory, but not the other?”
“Correct.” When she groaned in frustration, he laughed. “Come see me in person, my sweet. Let me show you what I offer. This dream is lovely, but…I want to see if you taste the same in person.”