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Then a voice, deep and resonating, managed to break through her confusion.

“What in the Moons . . .Who are you?!”

3

“It’s a dream,” Anthea blinked. “I’m dreaming . . . this is not real?—”

“Answer the question! Who are you?!” The blade against her throat was unyielding, pressing into her neck. Struggling to focus, her eyes were drawn to the three arched windows across from the large bed she was currently perched on. She stared in disbelief at the sight before her—two large moons were suspended in the sky, glowing brightly, their silvery luminescence casting a soft glow around the room.

“What the fuck?! Why are there . . . Why are there two moons?” she asked aloud. Anthea had read about lucid dreaming. She had never experienced one before.

“Don’t change the subject. Who are you?” His breath fanned against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

Without warning, her stomach heaved, a violent upheaval of nausea colliding with the room's spin. The alcohol Anthea had consumed earlier surged up and out, splattering onto the silken sheets and the hands that held her in place. The iron grip around her waist slackened as the stranger jerked away, cursing.

Seizing the opportunity, Anthea scrambled away from him, her hands slipping on the soiled sheets as she pushed herself up and away. Ignoring the swirling room and the sickening wave of nausea, she stumbled toward the only exit she could see—a darkened doorway.

Suddenly, she was slammed against the wall in a swift movement, making her scream. Her hands flew up, clenched fists pressing against a solid chest, pushing.

“You are not going anywhere!”

She took a steadying breath and lifted her eyes: Auburn hair, untamed and long, cascaded over broad shoulders in a stunning display. He towered over her, his shirtless torso bathed in the silver glow of the two moons streaming in through the windows. His sharp eyes, a striking shade of blue, glistened with an intensity that seemed unnatural as he stared at her.

He was beautiful.

“I asked you a question!” he demanded, his large hands gripping her biceps and pressing her against the stone wall, making her stomach churn with unease.

“What is happening?” Anthea tried to make sense of the situation, but her brain offered no explanation—this had to be a dream. She lifted her hands to push against his face.

He caught her wrists and pinned them against the wall, the cold shock of his touch jolting her back to the present. 'What are you doing here?!' he demanded again."

“I-I don’t know,” she admitted weakly, her voice hoarse with terror. “I was waiting for my Uber and . . . and?—”

“Uber? What in the Zuriëlth’s cauldron is an Uber?”

Anthea swallowed hard, her throat dry, eyes darting around the room, flitting from the bookcase filled with books and trinkets to the large chestnut cupboard. The unsettling sight of the alien designs etched into the pieces of wood lining his shelves only deepened her disorientation.

“Speak!” he growled. “Who are you?! What are you doing here?!”

Tears welled up in her eyes. Shaking her head. “This isn’t real,” Anthea whispered more to herself than to him. “You’re not real?—”

He gave her an incredulous look before shifting his gaze from her face to her hands, his eyes widening. Anthea followed his line of sight to the claw pendant she still clutched in her grip.

He released her wrists and snatched it from her, his sudden movement causing her to gasp. He stared at the pendant in his hand before meeting her eyes again.

“Answers, now!” Her captor’s growl was more beast than man.

“I don’t know what’s happening!” Anthea gasped, her breath escaping in ragged, terrified bursts. “I swear, I don’t know!”

“I will get my answers one way or another.” His blue eyes reflected a tempestuous ocean.

Horror gripped her as he murmured something so low, she couldn’t make it out, and his free hand began to emit a sinister blue glow. He guided his glowing hand to Anthea’s throat—the intense cold radiating from his palm caused beads of sweat to trickle down her spine. Her throat constricted in terror as she braced herself for the pain that would surely follow.

“Your final chance!” he snarled, the light from his hand casting an ominous shadow over his stony features.

Anthea clenched her eyes shut, a plea for mercy on her lips.

Seconds stretched into an eternity.