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“Depends on whoyoudecide to be to me, Phantom Queen. Should you choose to be my ally or my enemy.”

“As much as you’re endearing yourself to me in this moment, I am not thinking fond thoughts.”

Was it possible to slap a shadow? The temptation was unreal.

The man tilted his head, and the black strands of hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes as a smirk crossed his lush lips. She was honest enough with herself to admit that the arrogant shadow man was a looker.

Pushing away from the wall to walk toward her, as if he had an actual physical body, his shadowy presence moved closer until he was right in front of her.

She looked up into his mercurial eyes and could see swirls of silver that moved with the light.

So, silver it was. Not blue.

Moving her eyes across his face to take in the whole of his features, her jaw dropped when she saw his ears. They were pointed, unlike her rounded ones.

“While my memories are not whole, I do know a few things...”

Reaching out to touch a strand of her curly auburn hair, he smirked. He wasn’t able to actually touch her, but she could imagine him tugging on a curl and watching it bounce back into place.

“. . .I’ve just woken up, so I am not from this time. My name is Kian, and...”He smiled, his eyeteeth sharper than the rest.

“. . . I know that you were the one who killed me.”

A soft knock at the door had Bryn turning her head, but not her back, on the shadow man who had just dropped yet another bomb in her lap.

“Time to head back downstairs. Niamh said you were awake,” Travis’s deep voice rumbled through the door.

Panicked, she looked back to where the man named Kian had been, only he was no longer there.

Composing herself, she walked to the door, opening it to see Travis leaning against the frame, his rifle at his side.

“Sorry if I startled you,” he said.

She must not have composed herself enough. Shaking her head, she smiled.

“Wasn’t you, Travis. Sorry. It’s been a rough couple of days.” She whispered the last words of the sentence.

Catching her off guard, Travis pushed into the room, shutting the door behind him. Motioning Bryn to take a seat, he pulled a flask from his pocket, offering it to her.

“Take a minute to gather your wits about you. I’m sure the mother of all drama downstairs has more surprises loaded in the barrel.”

Bryn took the flask with an appreciative smile, sipping it and coughing as fire lit up her mouth and throat. Handing it back to him, she struggled through the burning, the air pushing through her esophagus only reigniting the flames.

“What the hell do you drink, Travis?” She coughed, her face turning red as her eyes watered.

Placing it back inside his vest pocket, he smirked.

“Special make using some of the good stuff Declan sneaks in.”

Wiping her tears, she laughed, though it hurt.

“You could strip paint with that.”

“You actually can. Justin has used it a few times for some of his projects.”

She laughed, but Travis hadn’t been joking. If she woke up tomorrow coughing blood, she would haunt him after she died from blood loss.

Leaning back in his chair, rifle settled across his lap, he sighed.