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“I had shopped these townhouses when I was looking to buy a couple years ago. Unfortunately, there were no corner units available at the time, so I settled for a place not too far from here. This is quite the place. And the art is fantastic.”

“’Tis my brother’s place. I stay here when I visit.” She stirred the mesh steeper in the water and rubbed the ache inher chest. “Would you care for a cup of tea? Or do you still prefer coffee?”

A hand rested against her shoulder. She jerked, splashing boiling water across the back of her hand when she tried to steady the mug.

“Damn, I’m sorry.” Bryce cradled her hand and pulled her to the sink. He turned on the cold water and held her scalded hand beneath the icy stream. She winced at the sharp pain. “Rihanna, I’m really sorry. Do you have burn cream in the house?”

“’Tis naught, truly. The wound will heal in a few moments.”

As the water soothed the burn and her skin began to heal, the sparking nerves that had left her confused and cautious calmed. Her senses honed in on Bryce’s nearness, the tender way he held her wrist and fingers to angle her hand beneath the water. His arm rested against hers, the connection stoking an old, dead desire back to life.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said quietly. His breath caressed the tip of her ear, a soft brush causing her heart to flutter.

She licked her lips and tilted her head up to him. That familiar crease had returned over his brow, his attention focused on her hand until he met her gaze.

“’Tis no fault of yours. Your visit caught me unawares.” She mustered a timid smile and eased her hand away, lifting the scalded skin for him to see. The patch of red that had been bright and painful a minute ago had dulled to a light pink, and continued to fade. “See?”

Bryce caught her hand again and brushed his thumb over the healing burn, wonder lighting his green eyes. His gaze lifted to hers before returning to the burn.

Then, he turned her hand over.

Rihanna tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. He held her wrist and opened her fingers as she tried to curl them into her palm, exposing her scar.

“It mirrors mine,” he murmured, turning his hand over to show her the angry red impression. His eyes narrowed, understanding stirring across his expression. She could barely take in a breath without her head becoming light. “My dreams. They’re not dreams at all, are they? You’re her. The same woman I bound myself to in the past.”

“Mayhap…” She cleared the knot from her throat and forced what she said next through in a rasp. “Mayhap ’tis naught but a coincidence.”

He shook his head, releasing her wrist to brush aside a strand of hair that had caught at the corner of her mouth. His fingers traced her cheek to her ear, then combed into her hair.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” His thumb traced over her scar. “I’m not one to believe in coincidences. We crossed paths at the club, and my entire world has been turned upside-down because you arereal. I learned to deal with the dreams and the strange occurrences surrounding them as a kid. Even as an adult they plagued me, their impact unworldly, but they weren’t common. Once every couple weeks or so. That all changed the night I saw you.”

Rihanna stumbled back a step, right into the partition to the foyer. She had no strength against his lure. She wished for naught more than his touch, his kiss, after all these years. Alas, she knew so little aboutBryce. He may have the soul of her beloved Mikhail, but his life was far different.

“I can’t explain it, but it’s like you coming into my life tore open a gaping hole inside of me, and only you can fill the void. Your absence has tortured me endlessly over the last six months, but every time I’ve seen you, that torture ends. Right now?” He closed the distance with a single step, his nostrilsflared, his eyes dimmed by the shadow of his pupils. “I can’t begin to understand how to live without you anymore.”

Oh, Goddess.

To give in to the pull, the desire. To give in to the inevitable and throw these tattered bits of caution into the blistering winds. Her soul yearned for him with such passion she could barely stand it. Barely think. Barely breathe.

Yet when he leaned closer, she managed to throw a trembling arm up between them, press a quivering hand to his chest, and stop him from advancing.

Her heart gave a wild jolt as her fingers molded against a chest she’d longed to feel beneath her touch. Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she closed her eyes as the agony of reliving his death and over a century of loneliness struck. As much as she craved to tip her head into his palm, she refrained.

“You insist you’ve had dreams. What do you see in your dreams, Bryce?” Gathering her strength, she dared to meet his gaze. “What have you experienced?”

His gaze moved over her face, laced with a sea of emotions that resonated with her own. He placed his hand over hers, flattening her palm hard to his chest. She felt his strong, beating heart. He shifted, crowding her in a glorious cocoon, tipping her head back, her chin up, as his gaze lowered to her mouth. Naught but a few inches remained between them, arms wedged between their bodies pressing closer.

“You.”

12

Renewed life took over as a piece of him connected with the perception of the man he’d once been.

The weight of the world no longer mattered. What lay beyond the door was no longer his problem. The only thing, only person, that mattered was the Fae beauty he closed in on as if his body was possessed by an ancient soul who recognized this intimate dance. A sleeping spark that flamed more to life with each breath that touched his lips from her mouth.

His mind played tricks on him, switching between the small cabin he’d lived in during sleep and the townhouse kitchen of reality. His soul mate dressed in clothing appropriate for a century early and the woman whose choice of outfits enhanced every smooth curve and supple swell of her body beneath skinny jeans and a tight V-neck shirt. The irresistible urge to crush her against him, kiss her like she alone would sustain him, melted with past visions of him lifting her, shameless in his intentions as he carried her to a rustic log-framed bed with a patchwork quilt.

Only when he tilted his head to claim her mouth and mether fingertips did he realize how lost the line between dream and reality had become. He blinked once, twice, present day Rihanna’s stunning face fading to Rihanna of the past, and back again.