I decided to give the place one last try, my mind sorting through the few remaining mortals, one of which was having an extremely vivid dream about eating a sandwich. I rolled my eyes and gave a laugh. Nope, I was done here. I turned and began walking into the woods, towards the magical path which would take me home to The Glen.
I was almost beyond the barrier when, suddenly, a dream caught my attention and I froze—my interest aroused. I relaxed and allowed myself to slip quietly into the fantasy, anticipation building at the fun I was about to have.
It was a girl, a young woman actually, dancing by herself in a pool of soft light. She twisted and turned her body with a grace that mesmerized and held me in place with a force I couldn’t describe or understand. A classical piano piece was coming from somewhere, but I was so entranced by her I didn’t look around for the source, allowing her performance to flood my senses. After a few moments, she finished her beautiful movement and placed her slippered feet into a ballet style pose, then turned, looking right at me it seemed. I knew it was rude to stare this way, but knowing she couldn’t see me, I decided to entertain my odd and inexplicable desire to know her better. I was so caught up in what I was feeling I didn’t realize she was starting to act uncomfortable.
“Can I help you?” she asked, softly. I continued to watch, held captive by her. Her eyebrows raised and she cleared her throat while I looked around, wondering who she was talking to. I saw no other character in her dream. “I believe I asked if I could help you with something.” Her voice was more forceful, almost angry sounding. I started suddenly as I realized she was talking to me.
“Me?” I asked just to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. Well, this is a first, I thought.
She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “Yes, you. Who else would I be speaking to? Do you see anyone else here?”
I looked around, feeling like an idiot. I didn’t know what to do. Realizing my stupidity, I quickly withdrew my mind from hers, stunned at the “conversation” I’d just had. I tried to think of why my ability to stay hidden while probing another’s awareness hadn’t worked, but no good reasons came to me.
Had it been a fluke–a one-time thing? I asked myself. This was completely unprecedented. I analyzed what had happened, and unable to come to any type of conclusion, I decided to reach out to her again. What’s the worst that could happen? She’ll still see me and I’ll leave, end of story, I reasoned.
Carefully, I reentered the dream—this time tip toeing into her imagination. She had resumed her dancing as if nothing had even happened, spinning with unbelievable balance.
Had she already forgotten about me? I wondered. I remained quietly in the shadows, trying not to chortle over her possible attention span problem, thinking of how I should safely test if she could see me or not.
Suddenly, I spotted her ballet slippers and the beautiful ties, which traced up the length of her calves. I smiled devilishly, eager to do what I did best. I stepped boldly from the shadows and imagined the lavish ties becoming vines that trapped her legs together and rooted her to the ground, unable to move.
Take that, dancer girl! I thought triumphantly.
At first, I was sure it had worked. She began to falter and slow, and stopped her twirling, but then I realized it was because she was looking at me—again. I cursed under my breath and immediately began to withdraw, though part of me wanted desperately to stay and figure out how this woman was immune to my powers. I had finally found it—something new that piqued my interest, but there could be a lot of trouble if I stayed. Releasing the last threads of her consciousness, laughter reached me, and I couldn’t help myself—I stepped back into the light of her mind.
She smiled at me serenely, still giggling somewhat, and I looked at her quizzically. “What are you going on about?” I asked point blank, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. She stifled the rest of her amusement with her hand and then cleared her throat as her hand returned to her side.
“The face you were making was so peculiar. It looked like you were wishing for my shoes to catch fire—or something—you were staring at them so intently.” She started snickering again as she finished her explanation.
I grimaced in embarrassment, a feeling that was completely foreign. “I was doing no such thing,” I lied, knowing I would never tell her what I had been doing.
“Then what were you thinking?” She was calling my bluff, her eyes sparkling. I liked her already—she was just as bold as I was. It was as if we were two friends trying to beat each other in a word game.
“What’s your name?” I asked to avoid her question.
She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to tell strangers things like that?” She spun in a little circle, smiling. Her hands slid through her long hair as she did so, causing it to lift and ripple.
As she moved, I observed our surroundings more closely and noticed we weren’t actually in a pool of light as I’d originally thought, but in a long room, completely bare of furnishings. One whole wall was made up of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, which had been concealed somewhat in the shadows. Realizing it was some type of ballroom, I stepped into the glow a little more. It seemed as if doing so should have been difficult since I’d spent my existence in the shadows of the human mind, but those few steps felt like a breath of fresh air. I glanced at myself in the glass wall and realized I’d automatically altered my clothing to match hers, without consciously realizing what she was wearing.
I was in a fancy, tuxedo-like black suit with a loosely fastened red tie. The formal jacket was missing, but I still looked pretty sharp. The sleeves of my dress shirt were rolled neatly to the elbow and matching dress shoes completed the look. My reflection looked close to my normal one, though my pointy ears were missing and my fiery red eyes were now bright blue. My hair remained its usual blond color, styled short and messy. It was odd. Normally, I looked like myself in dreams, mostly because there was no need to change the appearance of someone who couldn’t be seen. I figured somewhere in my mind I realized I was a visible role in the dream now, and I needed to look the part.
The girl wore a beautiful ball gown of red silk with little black, gemmed accents, which rustled with every move she made; her raven ballet flats showed only when she spun and the air caught her skirts. Around her neck was a matching jewel and ribbon. Her long ebony hair hung loose in curls, which would have made any girl jealous.
The woman cleared her throat and stretched her hand to me. Turning from the mirror to look directly at her, I raised my eyebrow questioningly as I remained where I was. I suddenly felt apprehensive; I’d never touched anyone during their dream before, though for some unknown reason, I found myself wanting to touch this human.
“Come dance with me,” she explained, stretching her hand towards me further, excitement radiating from her smile.
Unsure of what to do, I took a step away, locked my fingers behind me, and shook my head. “No, I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t be silly. It will be fun!” She walked toward me—a woman on a mission—and beckoned for me even more with each step. “How are we supposed to not be strangers if you won’t dance with me?”
I tried one more time to step away and found myself against the wall. I started to protest, my nerves getting the best of me, but the plea never fell from my lips. Everything around us silenced the moment she touched my hand, and I felt a spark ignite within me.
I gasped slightly and looked at her as if I was seeing her for the first time. Her eyes became dreamy, dark pools of honey warmth, framed by beautifully long lashes and perfectly shaped eyebrows. Her nose was small and fit flawlessly with the rest of her features, and her smile was the perfect shade of white, surrounded by tempting red lips.
Why didn’t I notice any of that before? I thought through the haze.
I swallowed hard as she took my other hand and placed it on her dainty waist. Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate on anything else, but the warmth of her skin was too much of a
distraction. The sensation overwhelmed me even more. When I looked again, she was staring, a small smile still on her lips. All of the years I spent dancing with the Fae fled from my mind
“I, uh . . . , I don’t know how to dance,” I stammered, looking away so she wouldn’t sense my untruthfulness. I felt a fiery shock as she placed her hand on the side of my cheek and gently turned my face until our gazes were connected again.
“Just look at me—at my eyes.” She widened her smile. “Only at me.”
From somewhere the mysterious music began again, and she relocated her hand from my face to my shoulder. I froze for a moment, but with her reassuring nod, I stepped forward.
I was surprisingly nervous, wondering if she could feel the tremors in my hands, or if she noticed my sloppy footwork. I glanced down at my feet, an apology forming on my lips, but she shushed me.
“Only at me,” she whispered again.
I met her eyes once more, and the world fell away as we connected. The music swelled, and suddenly I knew just what to do. I courageously took more control of the dance. Twirling her away from me, my eyes followed her every move. My skin delighting in the fire that hers created as she returned to my arms. And so we danced, never looking away from each other, until the music came to a sad stop and we stilled.
“Emilee.” She softly panted.
I looked at her, confused. “What?” I tried unsuccessfully to catch my breath.
“My name is Emilee.” She laughed, only this time it sounded like bells in my ears. “You’re forgetful, aren’t you?” She bit her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows as she tried to silence her mirth. I could feel myself salivate as I looked at her mouth. I wondered what it would be like to kiss her.
What the heck is happening to me? I chuckled nervously, trying to redirect my attention. I enjoyed how free I felt—how different it was to laugh with her. I didn’t like the sudden intimate thoughts that kept bombarding me. “Nice to meet you, Emilee.” I bowed low and swept my arm out to the side. My mischievous personality resurfaced. I could play a part in her jest. “My name is Raith.”
As I expected, she giggled and curtsied, enjoying the game we had begun without meaning to. “It’s nice to meet you . . . Raith.”
She grinned, and suddenly began to fade away.
“No!” I said, trying to hold on, not ready to leave her yet. I grabbed for her waist and tightened my grip on her hand, but it was no use. I felt the familiar sensation of our minds pulling apart, and I was by myself at the edge of the woods. The sun was rising, and I realized Emilee had woken up. I had spent the whole night in her dream.
I flopped down into the tall grasses and leaned up against a tree with my arms behind my head. I sighed contently and decided right then I would go to her again this evening with the hope she would still be able to see me and we would dance again.
Chapter Two
I waited eagerly for the night to come. A daze overtook me during the day and caused me to stare at nothing as I remembered the feel of Emilee’s soft touch. Her perfume stuck in my nose, and her laugh played over and over in my head. When the suns last rays slowly faded from the sky, I practically ran down the magical path which led from The Glen. I felt the edges of several mortal dreams tug at my consciousness, all of them much more promising than what I saw during my perusal the night before, but they were all pushed aside. I wanted a whole night with Emilee again.
As I approached the line of thinning trees at the edge of the forest, I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind to feel for her. I fervently hoped she wasn’t one of those people who stayed up until midnight, and I was happy when I found her almost immediately, already sweetly dreaming. I relaxed and slowed my breathing as I carefully merged with her mind and found her dancing in the ballroom again.
Tonight she wore a Spanish style red and black ballet dress. There was a normal skirt that reached to her knees in place of a tutu, swaying perfectly with her long legs. She wore red pointe shoes, and her hair hung curled and free as the night before.
She is so beautiful. I smiled at my sudden thought. Normally, I only favored my own species with that description, but it was true—she looked divine. I couldn’t remember a time I’d seen anyone, human or Fae, look like this. I wanted to touch her again and feel the fire, which had rapidly spread between us. I altered my own appearance to match her chosen apparel, wearing pretty much the same thing as the night before, and stepped out into the light once more.
Emilee continued dancing with the fast pace of the music as if nothing had happened. She turned more towards me—concentration etched into her perfect features—but still did not give any sign that she saw me there. A crushing wave of defeat slammed into me.
Can she no longer see me? It seemed like a cruel punishment my mother would inflict upon me. I had been granted one amazing night with the only woman I’d ever wanted to spend an indefinite amount of time with. Curling my hands into fists, I turned to leave. I needed to punch something.
I couldn’t understand what was happening. Why did I feel this way? Why was I so upset that one mortal couldn’t see me when none of them were supposed to in the first place? The threads that held our minds together began to slip away, and I wished I could jump right out, but I didn’t want to cause her unnecessary pain or to wake up because I was careless. Each piece of her that separated from me left invisible scars of pain.
“Raith?”
Every thread snapped into place, the ground shook, and my breath was knocked away. I was in trouble and I knew it. I should not have felt the way I did when she said my name.
“I’m here,” I said coming into the light. She looked a little dazed. Guilt seeped into me as I realized I’d come back in too fast for her. Doing so agitated her subconscious and made it hard for her to focus. “Uh . . . I thought you hadn’t seen me, and I didn’t want to interrupt,” I somewhat lied as I gave her time to gather herself. Finally, she shook her head and smiled sweetly, making my insides churn.
“I almost didn’t see you,” she admitted.
“Oh.” She was all I thought about and instead of feeling the same, she seemed to have forgotten me. Great. Calm down. It’s no big deal. Besides, she doesn’t even know that you’re real, I reasoned.
“I was caught up in my dance,” she explained after an awkward pause. An apologetic grin spread across her face and she shrugged, running her fingers through her hair.
“You . . . I mean . . . it . . . was very beautiful.” Nice, apparently we’re working the embarrassing stalker angle tonight. There was another long silence growing between us, and all I could think of was how her skirt was hugging her hips. I realized I was staring with my mouth slightly open. Snapping it shut, my face burned as I looked at the ceiling, floor, mirrors, and anywhere else that wasn’t her.
“Nice place, right?” No. No, no, no, no, no, I did not just say that! Everything was going wrong! Of course I hadn’t really planned anything for the night—just dancing. Maybe I should have planned what to say too. An idea struck me, and I breathed in some courage—I hoped.
“Nice weather we’re having. How about that sports team? Did you know plants use photosynthesis to survive? I really don’t know what else to say, so let’s dance now, okay?” I said the last part so fast it took her by surprise. Without giving her time to think, I quickly closed the space between us and grabbed her hand. There was a flash of shocked silence, and then she began to laugh loudly.
“I see what you did there.” She placed her other hand on my shoulder.
“I know. Now, if I could just get some music, we’d be over our awkwardness and into the fun stuff.” She shrugged her shoulders a little, a smile still gracing her face. I looked into her eyes, the light in them causing me to grin as well. I wanted desperately to touch her face, and discover if it felt smooth like her dress did against my hand. Her cheeks sparkled slightly. Whatever makeup she wore was perfect for the room’s lighting. She returned my gaze, a look of amusement and study on her face.
“Yeah?” Even her voice was beautiful. There must be girls dying to be her everywhere she goes.
“The music started like two minutes ago.”
Oops. And the stalker returns.
“Sorry,” I mumbled as I blushed deeply.
“It’s ok.” She laughed. “Now, let’s dance!”
That was all the prompting I needed. I had some experience with lifts and special movements from rituals, which I’d been a part of. The Fae were big on dancing; me, not so much—‘til now anyway. The music was going, so we just started on the next downbeat.
The tune was a tango, played on the guitar. I was eager to show off my moves. I’d felt a little under qualified the night before. I pulled her closer as we got going, reveling in the feel of her whole body against mine. She was warm, soft, and still so strong in the way she danced. Every step was precise and I made sure not to miss any. I felt a rush with every count, every touch. My body begged to bring her closer and hold her tighter. The fire her touch created was burning out of control. It felt like I would burst from the flames inside me. My breath was coming in short gasps, thankfully covered by the intensity of the dance.
I felt a natural place to throw in a lift and surprised even myself by actually doing it. The smile on her face made it worth the bravery it had taken. Her face was just centimeters from mine—I could feel her hot breath on my lips, and I almost kissed her. But then the moment was over and I placed her on the ground, dancing like nothing had happened. If only she knew what she was doing to me.
The dance lasted only a few minutes, but it felt like hours when I held her in my arms. The same was true with the following dances. Each felt like it would never end, and I didn’t want them to. After several more dances—so many I didn’t even care to count any more—I knew the night would be over before I was ready.
Please don’t let it stop! I desperately wished away the morning as we were finishing yet another dance. This one had more of a classical ballet feel to it. She had somehow gotten her foot above her head in a side split and my hand was at the ankle suspended in the air. Even her foot felt like heaven. I wanted to hold her, touch her skin, and kiss her. I wanted to kiss her badly. The music ended and she returned her foot to the ground. She fell into my arms breathless, her back against my chest.
Midsummer Night's Fling: Belinda Boring, Kamery Solomon, Lacey Weatherford Page 11
