Page 34

Bryce pressed his fingers to his forehead as a dull throb started behind his eyes. Prior to arriving at Rihanna’s door, he fancied the fantasy of soul mates and past lives. He fancied the idea that he and Rihanna were tragic lovers given a second chance.

Now, as Shaye laid out how close to true his fantasy was,the very idea seemed incomprehensible.

Bottom line: Whatever the truth was, it didn’t change his desire to be with Rihanna.

“Mortals are given the gift of reincarnation, Bryce. Fae are not. Our deaths are followed by ascension to the Goddess, where we shall remain eternally. The eve at the nightclub, you were accompanying another woman. Your fiancée in this present life. ’Twas not to my liking, but I understood. At that time, you held no awareness of other realms, other beings aside from humans. Until you saw Rihanna. I watched the recognition fall into place.”

The kettle began to steam behind him, drawing his attention. Shaye prepared two mugs with loose-leaf tea, sugar, and milk, and joined him at the table. He slid a small dish between their mugs.

“For when the leaves are through steeping.”

Bryce hunched over the table, cupping the mug between both hands. He cautiously met Shaye’s rainbow eyes after noting tapered ears just like Rihanna’s. There was no doubt in his mind they were real. He’d felt Rihanna’s, traced the point of her ear, felt the diamond studs that pierced the firm cartilage.

“You claim my dreams aren’t dreams,” Bryce murmured.

Shaye shook his head. “Nay. Dreams they are not. Memories, aye. Why do you think my sister reacted to your words as she did? Do your dreams not disclose what happened after your death?”

“No. They’ve always ended with me staring into the fading sunlight through the trees. I’ve always startled awake in a cold sweat, my hand on fire.”

The Fae before him abandoned his mug and turned his hands skyward. Bryce stared at his palms, one scarred, one rough appearing like he worked a laborious job. Before hiseyes, Shaye’s skin began to exude smoke, gray curls at first, that stretched and formed an orb-like structure. Faint streams of purple and deep blue wove through the gray, thick at the bottom, thinning along the edges, and tapering along the top.

“Then I shall offer you a chance to see what my dear sister witnessed that eve,” Shaye said quietly.

As he spoke that last word in his accented lilt, a scene stirred to life within the transparent orb. Soundless, yet no less intense.

Bryce stared as the scene unfolded. A scene that appeared to be from Shaye’s point of view.

The cabin appeared, hazy at first, but quickly clarified until he noticed every detail. Each matched those in his own dreams, from the fireplace with the stone pot dangling over a burning pile of wood to the table where Rihanna sat, her brows pinched, her eyes dull as they cast the door constant glances.

Another figure was present.

Bryce gasped, his gaze shooting up over the orb to meet Shaye’s. The man merely jutted his chin toward the 4D magical projection playing out inches in front of him.

But that man…

The same man from the bar the night before. The one who disappeared.

“Give me your hand, Bryce,” Shaye said in a monotone. The man carefully tipped his palm, like he carried a delicate bubble between his palms, until the orb rested completely in one palm and he stretched his hand out for Bryce. Bryce hesitated for only a second before dropping his hand in Shaye’s.

Instantly, he found himself not staring at a scene from the past, but standing within the scene itself. The fire crackled. The wind howled outside. A sniffle interrupted the ominous sound every few seconds.

Until Rihanna twisted in her seat.

Her eyes widened and she jumped off the simple wooden chair, dropping her knife and the carrots she was methodically slicing. There was no doubting the pain that struck across her face and pierced her eyes. Pain, as if she were beaten herself.

She launched herself toward Shaye, wrapping her arms around him. Only then did Bryce realize those sniffles came from silent sobs she’d been restraining.

“Shaye, oh thank the Goddess. And Thierry.” She leaned back and cast the man Bryce recognized from the bar a concerned glance. The other man—another Fae, judging by his ears—lowered his eyes. “What brings you here?”

“Where’s Mikhail,chroi?” Shaye demanded. His voice held a sternness that made Bryce bristle. “Please, Goddess, tell me he’s here.”

Rihanna shuffled backward, her chin quivering, her brows furrowing, fear striking true across her face. “Why?” Her hands rose to her mouth as she shook her head. “Nay. ’Tis not so. Shaye, please, tell me ’tis not so!”

Before another word was spoken, a methodical clapping sound echoed from beyond the cabin. A man shouted and a whip snapped, sending a shudder of fear through Bryce’s blood. Ice followed close behind. A whisper of Death’s promise along his neck.

The other Fae, Thierry, was first to the cabin’s door, throwing it open and jumping off the stoop onto the dusty drive. Shaye followed on his heels, an air of danger and determination stirring together in a fearsome storm. Gusts of wind whipped through the trees, branches creaking and leaves tearing from limbs, caught in the maddening whirlwind.

Down the path, only a short distance away, two men steered a cart pulled by two shaggy horses. Their hooves clip-clopped against the pebbled dirt, the wagon wheels crunching the rocks and downed branches as if they were nothing. Pieces of hay stuck out in every direction from the wagon, but even as he watched, he knew. The sickening churn of his gut. The rise of his heartbeat. The bile that crept up the back of his throat.