by Chloe Adler
Holy crap. If my parents hadn’t given up everything to rent a bigger house . . . If they decided to stay in Taiwan . . .
What the hell am I thinking? Sure, this place is a palace compared to my humble abode, and my room at home basically looks like a dorm room compared to this one, but that doesn’t mean I should play princess and forget where I came from.
“You like?” Arch’s warm breath is too close to my ear and I jump back, tripping over a nightstand and landing on the bed. He smiles down at me, offering a hand, which I sheepishly take to rise. I look anywhere but at him, willing the heat in my body to disappear.
“So I’m supposed to hang out here when?”
“Whenever you like.”
The offer of a room itself makes me uncomfortable, though I do understand why they’re suggesting it. The bed taunts me, bringing up inappropriate thoughts about what Arch could be doing to me on it. I can almost feel his hot lips scorching trails down my abdomen. Really, Amaya? Bring it back down to Earth.
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude or sound ungrateful, but I’m here for a job. That’s the only reason I agreed to come here. Can we go to the stables now?”
He adjusts the collar of his shirt. “Of course, Amaya.” The way he growls my name makes me think I should have checked the greenery in the house for predators lying in wait.
When we get to the bottom of the stairs, the atrium is empty.
“I’ll take you to the stables.” Arch’s hot breath in my ear sends the faintest of tingles down my nerve endings. I shiver. “You need a jacket?”
“No, I’m fine.” If anything, him standing near me increases the temperature. But I’m not about to strip or let him know what he’s doing to me, even though my inner hussy wants to do just that.
Once outside, we find Bodhi sitting on the grass with his legs crossed, his eyes closed and his hands resting on his knees.
“What’s he doing?” I whisper.
“Meditating.”
Of course he is. Was his name given, or did he acquire it because of his spiritual practice?
Arch holds his hand out to me, and this time, I grasp it without considering the consequences. Consequence number one hits me immediately as my knees turn to weak little saplings, and I stumble. His other hand shoots out to steady me, but I wave him off.
Regardless, he doesn’t let go and we walk quietly, hand in hand, through the grounds toward the stable, presumably.
“So, you and Bodhi are brothers?”
“We are.”
“And Vasily?”
“He’s not our brother.” Arch stops and grins down at me.
“I figured, but what is he to you? Your BFF?”
“There are four of us, as well as Vasily. Myself and my three brothers. Vasily is our k—” He stops speaking and his eyes dart around.
“Your . . . ?”
“Friend.”
Weird. “Friend” doesn’t start with a k. Maybe kind? But Vasily is a vampire, and these men are not. “You and your brothers are all warlocks, and Vasily is a vampire.”
“Something like that.”
What the hell does that mean? I stop walking, forcing him to hold up. “I’m a little unclear here, Arch. Either you are or you aren’t.”
His green eyes pin me in place. Unbending and resolute. In this moment, Arch is like a redwood tree, tall and strong, reaching toward the light and the clouds. His eyes are the soft green of the redwood’s leafy fronds. Both Arch and Bodhi make images of trees flash in my mind’s eye, though Arch’s tree didn’t appear until now. And it’s the last species I’d have associated with him, even though he does tower over me. No, from his personality, I’d have guessed a cactus.
I pull back. Suddenly his face is hovering too close to mine, his hand catching a curl and twirling it between thumb and forefinger.
“It’s complicated.” Something flickers in his eyes. A trick of the light? “Let’s go meet the horses.”
He drops my hand and vaults ahead, and I finally realize he was slowing his pace before so I could keep up. Now, I have to run after him.
At the stables, I practically pee myself. The large structure looks to be made from corrugated tin, but it must be something stronger. They left it unpainted, a modern gray with high open doors for the horses to pass through. There’s a covered riding arena to the right, and I smother a smile, remembering when I rode my very first pony in a similar ring once upon a time. When I was seven years old, Mom traded manual labor for my lessons with the proprietor. When I got old enough to handle it, I took over for Mom and worked my butt off for them for years after.
To the left of the ring are several enclosed stalls, and I wonder how many horses they house. I start to count but get distracted when something light falls on the roof. The eaves are at least fifteen feet above me. Trees sway above the skylights, which must be the sound I heard. The dropping of a pinecone or the gentle swish of a low branch.
Breathing in the scented air, I close my eyes, transported instantly back to my childhood. Just like at Winter Ranch, the roof that covers both the ring and the stalls is held up with open siding. Fresh air is a must around horses, both for them and for the people taking care of them.
Inside, Vasily looks up when we enter, and the sight of him in his tight brown jodhpurs and knee-high black leather boots almost brings me to my knees. The jods fit him like a freaking glove, showing off his amazing backside, and I can’t look away. He’s one hundred percent in his element, as if this is who he truly is, which adds oodles to his sexy.
“Amaya.” He nods to me.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Arch walks to one of the stalls. The brown nose of a mare appears, whinnying and pushing into his hand. He strokes the beast while Vasily leads a black stallion out of another stall. The horse wears loose reins and no saddle. I cock my head as Vasily drops the reins completely and wanders out of the stable, his horse following docilely behind him.
“What the hell?” I turn to Arch, who grins and then goes inside his own horse’s stall. I skip outside to catch up to Vasily, then stop short again as he mounts the horse. He springs onto the horse’s back in one efficient, spare move.
Without stirrups.
Vasily leans down and holds a hand out to me.
“Come on up. I’ll show you around the grounds.”
When our hands touch, I’m unprepared for the electric jolt that zaps up through my arm and out the top of my head. I let go with a yelp, knocked onto my butt and cradling my head.
Vasily leaps off his horse and kneels beside me. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
I keep expecting his horse to run away now that he’s free of his master, but he’s standing at attention, eyes trained obediently on Vasily. Like a dog.
The searing pain is gone but it was strong enough to frizz my hair. I tentatively reach up to check. “What the hell was that?”
“My powers. They’re stronger when I’m around my horse, and you . . .”
“Me?”
“Let’s just say that some humans act as conduits.”
“Conduits? For what? Wait.” I hold up my hand, pushing myself to my feet. He doesn’t touch me but his hands are out in case I fall. “Your powers? What powers? You’re a vampire.”
Vasily licks his lips. “Not exactly.”
Despite repeated questions, Vasily won’t tell me what he means, other than to imply that there are different types of vampires. My bullshit meter is finally pinging too loud to ignore. Probably way too late, given all the unexplained weirdness here—the vampire who isn’t a vampire, the job offer that’s way too good to be true, the whole property dripping with the kind of wealth I’ve never touched in my life. It’s past time to go home. He told me he would never lie to me. But withholding info isn’t an acceptable alternative. I may not know a ton about vampires, but Jules did school me in the basics before I started at Ichor, and different types of vampires were not part of our curriculum.
I ask Vasily to take me home, and
he acquiesces, after “leading” his horse back into the barn. Moments later, we’re in his car again, sinking back into the foothills above the Edge. Back into reality.
“You don’t trust me, is that it?” I lean, rigid, against the car seat.
“It’s not that. If anything, it’s because I do trust you.”
“Great way to turn things around, big guy.”
“Amaya.” He sinks something soft, something indefinable into each syllable, and then waits until I turn to look at him. “It’s not safe and it’s not the right time. I promise you that I’ll tell you when you need to know.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Whatever.”
He pulls up in front of my house and cuts the engine. Before he can open the driver’s side door, however, I’m unbuckled and out. Either he’s telling the truth or he’s shit with vampire speed. I hustle toward the front door with Vasily on my heels.
“Amaya, please.” His low voice rustles against the back of my hair, the subdued tone shifting in the breeze. “Give me one more minute, that’s all I ask.”
I stop at my front door and spin around, my back pressing against the cool wood. I look pointedly at my watch and say, “Go.”
“Give me a chance to prove myself to you. I won’t hurt you. I merely want to get to know you better at whatever pace feels right for you. The job offer is still open, to help with the horses, if you want it. But no pressure.”
He takes a step toward me. Dammit, I have nowhere to go with my back to the door. He leans forward until we’re almost touching noses.
“We want you to do what feels right.” And with that he brushes his nose so lightly against mine, I would have missed it except for the tiny electric jolt of heat he leaves behind.
This jolt is different from the one earlier, ping-ponging around my nerves before settling deep and low in my belly. I let out a long sigh, unable to hold it in check.
His face drops to my ear and he nuzzles against me, breathing me in. Without thought, I do the same. I’m hit with the scent of lilacs, alfalfa and his horse.
“What’s his name?” I murmur.
“Sequoia,” he responds without a moment’s hesitation, following my meaning.
“He really is a beauty.”
“Oh, yes.” He leans back, eying me up and down. “Beautiful.”
My arms shoot forward, encircling his neck, and I pull him back to me again. He holds my gaze, his chocolate-brown eyes smoldering embers, his mouth hovering over mine. Those berry lips are good enough to taste, and the zing of electricity morphs into lust. I tug on his lips, nibbling, the taste a hint of burnt caramel. When our mouths connect, he presses the length of his long, hard body against mine, forcing his tongue inside. I part my lips and let him in, letting his caramel flavor fill me. This is unlike any kiss I’ve ever known, and any memories of my previous lovers disintegrate into dust, floating away on the wind.
My heart rate increases. I moan and writhe in his grip. Large, warm arms hold me in place, lest I fall. Our bodies meld together, two vines intertwining, winding around one another to form a lattice more intricate than lace. My fingers twine through his closely cropped curls, tugging him closer so I can breathe him in.
“Amaya,” he growls. “My queen.”
Tara
Now that I’m back in my bedroom, a deep sense of loss trickles in like a leaky garden hose full of holes. Usually I like being alone. Sometimes I even fancy myself a hermit. The gnawing hunger in the pit of my stomach is so unusual I can’t place it. It’s something I’ve never experienced. Before now.
Check yourself, I admonish and peek at my watch, running my finger slowly over the face. Dad gave it to me before they left. He wears a matching timepiece, and he told me that every time I looked at mine, he would probably be looking at his.
“It will keep us connected across the continents, reminding us that even though we’re worlds apart, we’ll be back together before too long,” he said, kissing the top of my head.
I’d believed it then, so sure that their adventure was the perfect antidote for their lifelong sacrifice and my lifelong guilt. But now the gesture leaves me feeling empty and even more alone.
I have a few hours before my shift at Ichor, so I lie down on my bed for a short nap.
My dreams spin and twist, like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole. I even land in a soft bed of grass with a thud to complete the picture. A large firefly flits by my face and I swat it away.
“Ouch! What’d you do that for?”
When I look for the source of the high, squeaky voice, no one is there.
“Holy crap,” the tiny voice titters again, and this time, I look up, craning into the too-bright sunlight. The bug I swatted is not a bug at all. It’s a tiny little human with wings. Well, not a human, obviously. A fairy. No surprise, since I’m dreaming.
“How did you get in here?” he asks.
He looks like the same fairy from my childhood, in his flowing, colorful Bermuda shorts.
“I’m dreaming,” I tell him, though I don’t know why I bother.
“Ah, that makes sense. I should have guessed. You’re transparent.”
I look down at my hands and gasp. He’s right. My antics make the creature titter and flit a little higher.
“You look familiar.” He peers down at me.
“As do you.” I smile up at him. “We met once before, long ago.”
His brows furl and then his eyes widen. “You’re Amaya? The little girl? But how did you grow up so fast?”
“I should ask you how come you’re growing so slow, but what’s the point? I’m dreaming.”
“Time moves differently here than it does on your plane.”
“It moves slower here?”
“No.” He darts left and then right. “Time moves faster where you come from.” He chuckles, a high-pitched twinkle like the fourth-octave C on a flute.
“Are you a fairy?”
“Sure, sure, that’s one name for us, but we prefer fae.”
“Where am I?” Everything in sight is so bright, like an oversaturated Miyazaki flick. And the flowers, they’re everywhere, growing free and wild. All my favorites, plus some I’ve never seen before. “Lush” isn’t a strong enough word for this place. Overhead, the sky is a blue straight out of the Caribbean, so bright it’s almost blinding. This entire world is ultra vivid. Crisp and detailed. The most vivid dream I’ve ever had.
The fae flies closer to me. “Don’t swipe at me again. Understood?”
I nod, studying his tiny features as he hovers in front of my face. He’s almost exactly the way I remember him, with his human, androgynous features. And still young, though maybe that’s just the way these creatures always look.
“It’s not,” he says.
“What’s not?”
“It’s not the way we all look. I’m sixteen.”
Of course he can hear my thoughts, it’s my dream.
“Humans. You’re a bit daft, ’eh?”
“Wow, really? No need to be rude.”
“We speak the truth. The fae aren’t known for their diplomacy.”
That was a quality I’d admired in Vasily.
“You’ve seen the king?”
“No. Is he as annoying as you are?”
The fae titters, buzzing around me. “No. He’s—” He looks around, buzzing wildly. “Forget it. They might be listening.”
“Who might be listening?”
“I said forget it.” The fae hovers in front of my face again and passes a hand back and forth in front of himself.
“What are you doing?”
“Did it work?” he whispers.
“Did what work?”
A smile stretches across his face. “Oh good.”
Nonsensical dreamscape. Why not play along? “So this is the land of the fae?”
He lands softly in the grass next to me, tapping his head with a finger and then pointing at me. “So your noggin isn’t full of rocks after all, though we don’t cal
l it the land of the fae.”
“What do you call it?”
He places his hands on his hips. “Tara.”
“Why are there no fairies on Earth?”
He raises a brow at me. “Ah, I spoke too soon. Rocks after all.”
This is my dream; why didn’t I make up nicer characters?
“As if,” he snorts. “So egotistical that you think you’re making me up.”
I need to have a serious conversation with my subconscious. “Fine, so where are we then? Where is Tara?”
“On Earth,” he overenunciates. “We’re all on Earth, we’re just on a different plane.”
I cock my head at him. “A different plane?”
“Plane. Realm. Demesne. Expanse. Dimension. ”
I hold up my hands. “Okay, okay.” I don’t even want to know what he’s talking about. “So you could appear on our plane if you wanted to?”
“Why would we? Have you looked around here?”
“Or maybe you live here because you annoy humans so much that whenever they come across you, they swat you.”
That sends him fluttering back up and out of my reach.
“Paxil, what are you doing near that thing?” a shrill voice calls from somewhere. “Get away from it!”
A sheepish grin spreads across the little guy’s face. “Yes, Mom. Coming.” He flies close to my face. “Sorry, Amaya, gotta go.” Then he zooms straight up, disappearing from sight.
Turning around in a circle, I squint into the ultra-vibrant cloudless sky, looking for the fae. I don’t see him. I don’t see the sun either, oddly enough. I turn back to the landscape so incredibly rich with flora that I momentarily forget where I am. I cradle a delicate jasmine bloom in one hand; the scent overwhelms me, seeming to bathe my body in fragrance, as though I’m submerged in a bath of night-blooming jasmine blossoms.
A tinkling sound filters through a nearby forest, and I let go of the flower to wander over. Everything changes once I pass into the woods. The foliage is tall and thick, towering over me, so high it blots out the sky. The trees and their branches sway in the wind, the sound like someone noodling on a xylophone, and I follow the sounds deeper and deeper into the forest until the entire canopy above my head is nothing but leaves and branches.
