Page 28 of A Kiss from the Fae (Mistress of Magic #2)

She dreamed of Finn Beatha again.

In the dream, they weren’t in Murias. Finn took her to an in-between place under the waves; perhaps it existed only as a place in the dream world, where anything was possible.

As she fell under the spell of his hot, sweet touch, she found herself with him in a golden four-poster bed with ripped, gauzy white curtains that rippled in the warm current under a turquoise sea.

She found she could breathe underwater, just as she had on the kelpie’s back on the way back from the Crystal Castle. The usual rules, such as they were with a faerie king, didn’t apply.

The bed sat atop a grey-green hunk of rock on the seabed.

Beyond them, the white sand of the sea floor stretched away to the underwater horizon.

Time had no meaning here; though her dreams may have passed in minutes, she spent hours with Finn, making love in every way possible.

She surrendered herself to him completely: on her knees, on her back, she took everything he had to give her and wanted him more for it.

In the daytime, when Faye thought of Finn, she hated herself for doing so. But tonight, the defences of her rational brain were released, and her instincts could take over. Tonight, she welcomed his ethereal kisses; she welcomed him as he took her down under the waves.

‘Be my lover, Faye.’ Finn breathed against the nape of her neck. ‘I miss you.’

Her body was addicted to the rush of him; when she was with him, she forgot everything else, even herself.

Yet, though it was a dream, she steeled herself not to answer.

She wanted to say yes. He was like a drug, and she’d do anything to continue the high of being in his golden light.

She knew from experience that dreams were more real than they seemed where Finn was concerned.

He could reach her there, as he could in all the between-places, like the seashore at Abercolme.

But even though her flesh craved him, and her mind craved the languorous high of one too many glasses of champagne that being with Finn brought, she shook her head.

‘Faye, my love. No mortal woman is one such as you.’ He breathed against her skin, and roses bloomed from the nape of her neck to the delicate arches of her feet. Kissing her breasts, then her stomach, his lips trailed to her hip, where he lingered, brushing his fingers softly against her clit.

In her sleep, she sighed deeply and rolled over. The contact with Rav’s back brought her back to reality a little.

‘Faye, sidhe-leth , come to me. Be my lover, my courtesan, my one most desired.’

As Faye’s eyes fluttered open, the dream fell into soft shards. Closing her eyes for one moment more, she watched as the tide-torn silk curtains of the bed scattered themselves like confetti over both of them. The water makes us a weddin g. Finn’s voice teased her ear. Celebrations for the lovers.

But there will never be a wedding, and you will never treat me as anything other than your whore.

Faye wasn’t sure whether she’d said it or not, but if she had, Finn showed no sign of having heard her.

Instead, he dipped his head, watching her with devilment in his eyes, and kissed her slowly, tortuously, making her writhe in the sheets.

‘Don’t forget me.’ He smiled, looking up at her, denying her pleasure now. ‘The King of Murias awaits you at your pleasure, Faye Morgan. If you desire Murias, it desires you. Only by admitting your desire for me will you find your way back here.’

She opened her eyes, feeling the heat in her body and the wild beating of her heart as magic resonated in her bones and thrummed electric under her skin. Desire was the way back, but she’d made her choice.

As London’s grey morning light infused her cells and readjusted them back to mundanity, she felt shame that she hadn’t thought of Aisha once in the dream.

Lyr had offered her a way to rescue her.

Yet, Lyr’s way was as cold as his seduction and abandonment of Moddie.

Faye wouldn’t subject another woman to that, and especially not the innocent child that she’d be required to donate to the faerie, to fight in a war, as a decoy, as meat, to be sacrificed for another, more favoured child.

That was no fate for anyone.