Glass Slippers, page 14
Casey stretched. “That said, I wouldn’t be in too big of a hurry unless shit doesn’t pan out sharing resources with Martha. Some of the guys around here could afford to give up a few trade credits to properly bathe.” She made a gagging sound, and Eleanor burst out into laughter.
Her good humor lasted long after Casey departed to return to her own picking grounds that she shared with her husband, leaving Eleanor alone with her thoughts. In the silence that surrounded her as she worked, she considered her friend’s advice. Casey was certainly right about something. Eleanor had spent weeks running, scared of a male she had afforded more power than he actually had there as she avoided the stranger walking in her dreams. When it came right down to it, it was still her dreams, and he didn’t have any power other than what she gave him.
It was time to wrest that power back and take control of the situation, and in turn other important facets of her life in this unfamiliar world.
CHAPTER 20
The mist coiled over the garden floor, swirling around Eleanor’s feet with every step. It was often daylight in the garden when she visited it in her dreams, a summer sun warming her. This time, it was different. While the air was still wonderfully warm, there was the edge of a chill that came with a late-night breeze, the perfume of night-blooming flowers wafting along the garden paths as a moon hung in the sky. Although she was fairly certain that the moon was still waxing, the moon shone here full and bright like a pearl… but that was natural in a dream, as were the faint shifts of color and light at the edges of her perception.
Keeping her pace unhurried, Eleanor continued along the path that she knew would eventually lead her to the center fountain. All paths seemed to lead there in her dream version of her mother’s garden. In the past, they would lead her all to that place where her mother waited, but now they all led to him. Although she never saw him, she was always aware of him close to the fountain and not a moment sooner. Before, it had made it frustrating, knowing that she couldn’t bypass him on one of the paths and arrive at the fountain unhindered, but now there was a comfortable familiarity about it, knowing that he was there waiting for her. She could practically taste the warm spice of his scent upon her tongue… a hint of exotic cinnamon in the air.
Swallowing, she stepped out from beneath her mother’s fashionable wisteria trellis that arched overhead, allowing the moonlight to fall fully upon her. Her skin prickled instantly with the familiar wave of awareness sweeping over her at the first touch of his presence, the hint of cinnamon, leather, and something airy and sweet—sandalwood, she believed, though she had only scented a sample once as a child when accompanying her father to the home of a wealthy merchant—in the air around her. Her eyes drifted shut on their own accord as she stopped, and she allowed herself a moment to enjoy the intense pleasure of it.
Only a moment. A precious moment, breathing it in, soaking it into the marrow of her bones.
Eleanor opened her eyes and glanced around curiously. He was there somewhere. She couldn’t pinpoint where, but she could feel him there—watching, waiting. If she wasn’t mistaken, his presence seemed even stronger than before—or her awareness of it was. He was like the unseen rose thorn burrowing deep under the skin. She scanned the tall shrubbery eagerly for any hint of the stranger. Leaves rustled with the wind, and a fresh gust of perfume drifted from pale flowers. It was, in a word, magical. Far more than she remembered it ever being before, as if it were more than a dream and something separate from the world she typically visited in her dreams.
She never dreamed of any place quite so clearly as she did the garden, and tonight, with the layers of vibrancy and richness around her that she could feel, see, and taste, it surpassed every single one of old dreams. In awe, Eleanor walked out onto the circular stretch of cobbled stones that wrapped around the foot of the fountain. Though it extended toward the hedges and disappeared in beautifully laid, if simple, garden paths that her mother favored, she didn’t venture any further, walking directly toward the fountain and standing at the foot of it. It was her only escape from the garden, and though the male had never done her harm, she had no intention of having anything between her and that water in case he didn’t take kindly to what she was about to do.
Holding tightly to her resolve, she straightened and glanced about, her eyes sliding over the manicured bushes and hedges. She thought she saw a pair of glowing green eyes among the leaves, but it was gone so quickly that she couldn’t decide if it had been an illusion of her imagination or not.
“I know that you are there,” she called out. “You are watching me, like you always do.” Her gaze shifted, scanning a particularly dense area of growth. “Do not think I don’t feel it. That I haven’t always felt it. I have known you are there, so this game of yours does not fool anyone.”
“Have you?” The voice that answered from the surrounding darkness was smooth like silk against heated flesh, a honeyed whisper laced with venom that dared her to play with fire. “Then why have you not trembled as you did when I first beheld you? Why have you not fled if you knew my gaze rested upon you. Instead, you dare to speak to me as if we are equal—why?” he hissed.
“I’ve chosen to ignore you. I… I didn’t want to share this place, and I had hoped that if I left you in peace that you would extend me the same courtesy… which you have. But now—”
“But now?” he prodded silkily.
Gripping her hands in front of her, her fingers twisted together nervously as she considered what to say. She had thought of all manner of speeches to try to win his sympathy. She had considered to play on the male ego when it came to assumptions for her own time about female frailty of spirit, or to coax him out with some flattery, some pretense of sudden fear, or pleas of discomfort at being observed when, in all honesty, once she became accustomed to it, it hadn’t bothered her. But now, so thoroughly under examination, she abandoned it altogether and offered the truth.
“Now? It is tiresome,” she admitted with a sigh. “We are both pulled here again and again, and we both avoid each other until I leave. There seems little purpose to all of this, and yet we can’t seem to avoid this fate repeatedly. And I’m weary of pretending that you are not there. I would much rather indulge my curiosity than go through this routine night after night.”
“You would seek to use me?” he purred as, at the very same moment, a whisper of wind blew among the bushes, disguising any movement he might have made if he had chosen to.
Eleanor’s hands curled into clammy fists, but she smiled bravely, recalling her conversation with Casey.
“I would like to think that it would be less usury and more mutually beneficial to the both of us. Is it not tiresome to hide away rather than pass the time somewhat pleasantly? Why not take these moments for our own use rather than just being a victim of circumstances that brought us here outside of our control?”
Silence met her words, and after several long minutes without a response, Eleanor’s stomach plummeted. Was that to be it? She fidgeted in place and considered stepping toward the fountain and ending her useless experiment when suddenly the bushes in front of her parted like a magical veil and a tall man stepped forward.
No, not a man.
Pure fae male from his boots to his sharply chiseled features, the sinful curve of his lips and predatory gaze to the pale gleam of his hair and deeper golden hue of his horns sprouting from his brow. He appeared to be the very image of sex and sin manifested, but also a timeless elegance encapsulated within him and knowledge in his overbright eyes that put all men to shame before him. Those eyes watched her like a cat eyeing a mouse, and Eleanor felt a prickle at the base of her neck.
Despite the unease that had wormed its way into her, she met his eyes with a faint smile. “You are in agreement? We are to make the best of this then?”
His nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I will consider your offer,” he replied in a deep, bored rumble. “Until then, continue your pretense and be on your way.”
With a careless flick of his fingers dismissing her, he strode back onto the path, leaving Eleanor standing alone at the fountain.
He had actually left her there. Dismissed her!
She gaped after him. “Be on my way, indeed!”
Furious, she plopped down at the side of the fountain and sat there for an infuriating amount of time. She had nearly bored herself to tears when a satisfying roar echoed through the garden as he tore forward along the path. She ought to have been terrified, but instead it goaded her to laugh as she slipped into the water, leaving him behind as easily as he had sought to do to her.
Let him learn quick that he would not lord over her. No one could anymore. This was a new world, and she refused to give even an ounce of her newfound power to him or anyone.
CHAPTER 21
He wanted to murder her. And he wanted to feast on her just to savor every sweet flavor that touched his tongue. Lucifero had been tormented since their last encounter, and that same feeling rose to the fore once more, stronger than ever as he once again found himself transported to the same garden.
Why? Why was he tormented by this female again and again? Hadn’t he been toyed with enough?
He was already consumed with the restless need to find his bride, and now he was haunted by a disrespectful human female who inspired such contrary feelings in him all at once, both craving her and desiring to be far from her. It was a feeling that he was unaccustomed to. Even his bride, who had a lot to answer for, did not inspire such aggressively contrary emotions. Her, he merely felt an impulsion to hunt down to the ends of the earth and claim. Overall, he understood it despite his frustration with her betrayal. While the latter had to be dealt with, it ultimately had little to do with the connection woven between them. It simply was, and there was no denying its eventual fulfillment.
For good reason. The primal instinct that drew him to his bride and initiated the dance was an unbreakable weave that he had little power over. It was solely under the authority of his dear sister Venus and the Fates, and as such, it thankfully had little to do with the messiness of true emotions. His sister aligned souls that the Fates destined to cross. It was simply a matter of truth that had come into being at the very moment she was born into the world, or perhaps sooner. Could it have been etched onto his own being at the very moment he came into existence? Despite the unknown factors that he doubted even Venus herself truly knew the entirety of, this was still a thing that he understood far better than the chaotic emotions now racing through him.
All because of this infuriating female! What had she called herself? He searched his vast memory and plucked her name that was disturbingly close to the forefront.
Ella.
This Ella had intentionally provoked him and challenged his authority. Him! Prince of demons and a king of the fae. It was bad enough that he was drawn there forcibly time and again, but to crave contact with the infuriating creature to the point of obsessively watching her and wanting to yield to her demand despite its conflict with his true desire to focus on his hunt for his bride was intolerable.
Worse yet was, because of this, he was utterly unable to deny her. He blamed her entirely for the fact that, rather than keeping his distance, he was striding along the garden path, his boots scuffing quietly on the paving stones beneath his feet, as he made his way toward the fountain. Fat blooms brushed against his shoulders, scattering petals as he passed, their perfume mingling with her sweet scent.
As much as he hated it and tried to resume control of the situation, he couldn’t deny that he wanted this. He craved the connection.
Striding out from the path, his steps slowed as he took in the view in front of him. Caught in profile, the human made a charming sight. Ella was perched on the edge of the fountain, her slippers discarded and skirts, this time a deep emerald, rucked up over her knees. She did not glance up to look in his direction, nor did she yet appear to notice that he was there, so he took the opportunity to enjoy the sight. Her dark hair tumbling over her shoulder in a thick curtain, she seemed to study her feet kicking aimlessly in the water, every splash scattering water droplets in the moonlight. The shapely line of her bare calf and the hint of thigh peeking out from beneath the edge of her skirt captivated his attention, stirring the insidious hunger that had slept so long within him.
It had been so long since he had felt anything except the gnawing need to pursue that he reveled in the desire that swept through him. His mouth watered, and he wanted to trace the elegant length of her leg with his fingers and tongue. Would she taste as delectable as she smelled? His nostrils flared, drawing in her scent, and a soft growl of pleasure rumbled in his chest.
At the sound, she lifted her head, her dark eyes fixing on him. They roamed over his body, sending a surge of interest to his cock that he ignored with gritted teeth, willing it not to rise. Her brows lifted in perfect dark arches and the corner of her mouth tipped upward with a smugness that made him want to pin her writhing on his cock as he demonstrated true dominance and power to her.
Let her think that she had the upper hand for now. It will make her surrender all the sweeter when she discovers otherwise.
Her leg circled, dragging her foot through the water as she regarded him, her smile growing.
“So you have decided to come,” she observed.
The snort he let out was not the least bit polite, but he refused to censor his true thoughts on the matter. He had the patience of any hunter and would bide his time, but he would not play her games.
“As you well know, there is little choice,” he replied coolly. Stopping in front of her, he peered down at her upturned face with obvious displeasure. “I am here whether I like it or not… but I do agree that avoiding you is tiresome. But since I seem to be stuck here until you leave, I will merely wait here until you decide to go.”
“Ah,” she murmured, her smile widening impishly. “I’m afraid that it doesn’t quite work that way. In case it has escaped your notice, I am here touching water, and nothing is happening. The garden doesn’t let me go until it is ready to.” She gestured to the falling spray of the fountain. “See that?”
“And? It is water, nothing more,” he replied stiffly, drawing a throaty chuckle from the female that sent a tremor through him.
“Very observant. Yes, it is. But while you’ve been hiding at a distance in the bushes, I’ve had time to experiment and notice that the fountain’s water won’t do anything for me unless it is faintly glowing.” She leaned forward to splash her hand in the spray. “Until then it is, as you say, just water and nothing more and I’m caught in this dream.”
“It is not a dream,” he murmured as he stared at the water with narrow eyes.
He had never paid much attention to the water other than observing that it functioned as the portal in and out of the astral garden. It had not occurred to them that there would be such parameters in place, but why was it created that way—and by whom? Certainly not by this female if she assumed it was just a dream.
“Pardon?”
He met Ella’s startled eyes. Idly, he tugged the gloves off of his hands, dragging them over the grooves cut for his claws as he circled the fountain. Though he studied the fountain and made sure that she saw that he was doing so, he continued to observe her, satisfaction curling deep in his belly at the flustered flush that rose into her cheeks and the way she wiggled where she sat on the fountain’s basin.
He was aware of every nuance of her expression as she watched him, the flash of interest in her eyes as her gaze wandered over his body when she thought he was not looking in ways that stoked his lust. Beneath all of that, however, was a guarded wariness as he continued his slow circle. He tucked his gloves into his belt and clasped his hands behind his back, enjoying her nervous anticipation. Her expectations were high despite the fact that she clearly did not know what it was that she was waiting for.
That was… charming. He enjoyed that innocence more than he thought he would. The humans that had always seemed too delicate and unworldly for his taste. His fae bride had been perfect in the way she had moved into his arms, her body naturally aligning with his with a boldness and desire that had fed his own.
But this one… her innocence, and the truth of it in the flavor of her scent on the air, was oddly appealing when paired so deliciously with her quick mind. As much as her presumption had annoyed him the last time they met, he also admired it on another level. It was almost worthy of a fae.
Almost.
Her color heightened, and she cleared her throat nervously, bringing his attention to the fact that he had been staring at her alone for several minutes without blinking. His gaze slid back to the water, and she let out a small sigh.
“What do you mean that this is not a dream?” she asked.
He gestured toward the fountain and the surrounding garden, feeling the weight of her gaze on his exposed claws. He recalled belatedly that such features made humans nervous, but it was too late to correct the matter now.
“This place is not a dream. I don’t dreamshare with those I have not initiated a bond with or who do not call me into them. Even then, I would be aware of the energy of the dream and could manipulate it at my own will. You would too,” he added with another quick glance. “If this were a dream, you would not be beholden to the rules of the fountain because you could control the rules, and once you realized that it was a dream you would be able to leave as you desire. No, this is something else: a garden created at the intersection of worlds, and as such we are beholden to its rules that were laid by its creator.”
