“What the hell was that?”
“What’s wrong with its face?”
“Was that a vampire? He just walked into daylight!”
Before the shush of the doors closing, I hear the soft lilt of a blight say, “That is Count Jean-Claude Von Zarovich and you’re all lucky to be alive...”
“The third,” I mutter. “Von Zarovich the bloody third.”
♀♥♂♂♂♂
EVERLY
When I open my eyes, I’m not under the canopy of my green forest, but I’m looking up at a… a gray nothingness. I blink the sleep away and sit up. Ow. My sore body protests, and I slump back down again, not at all eager to try again anytime soon. A pair of dark eyes peers at me from over a pair of sunglasses from the opposite side of the train.
Now I remember.
I’m on a train heading to Arcadia and the Academy of Enchantment. I must be here! The thrill of finally getting to my destination helps boost my enthusiasm, but my muscles only care that I slept with my head bent. My arms are numb and my knees ache.
“Hello, sleeping beauty.” The man attached to the sunglasses smiles. His voice is honey and wine. His short, curly hair is slicked back, and he’s in dire need of some Chapstick, but his bright, blocky teeth and tanned skin have an honest vibe that makes me feel like I can trust him.
The train isn’t moving, and all the doors are open. “Where am I?” My brain is slow with fog and my body feels as sore as a mulberry wine hangover.
“Before we get to that, let’s get to this: are you Everly Stillwater?” He pulls his sunglasses further down his nose, showing off a sapphire pinky ring, and gives me a naughty once-over. Dryads aren’t prudes, but sex… for me… well, let’s just say I can’t hand over my body to just anyone because my heart would follow too quickly. Still, I feel the heat in my face at his perusal. I don’t mind whatever dirty thoughts play over his handsome face; it’s a compliment. One that I don’t get too often.
“Yeah?” I say, trying to stave off the inevitability of waking up. I feel like I slept too long.
He smiles wide, and his expression is sin and bad decisions.
“Time to get up, love.” He lets his sunglasses perch at the end of his nose and gracefully gets to his feet. “I’ll take you to your host family.”
Oh. I must be in Arcadia. “And who are you, the savior of train maidens who oversleep?”
He laughs and gives me a deep bow. “I’m Harlow. And,” his voice lowers an octave. “I’d watch over your sleeping form any time you want.”
Harlow’s words are sultry and comforting. He reminds me of chivalrous male fae during mating season. Not that I would really know much about male fae during mating season since I’ve never been mated…
I start to untangle myself from the double seat that’s been my bed for too long and groan. My body feels broken where all my joints are, but I manage to raise my arm up to him. “Could you help me up?”
His smile drops, and he stares bug-eyed at my hand, like he’s nervous to touch me. He steps forward, dark, naked lust tainting his eyes, and mumbles, “Guess a taste won’t hurt.”
Before I can assess my request as possibly inappropriate, Harlow grabs my hand.
As he pulls me up, tendrils of desire race through my veins. An explosion of want, of need, bolts straight to my groin. I clench my knees together in an attempt to keep them from buckling under. Wave after wave of lust and promised release washes over reason, coherent thought and any remaining modesty I own. A groan turns into a gurgle, and in the back of my mind, I’m embarrassed that a sound so utterly needy comes from the depths of my core.
Pulses of pleasure pound every nerve in my body. Especially the tiny nerves between my legs. Tingling sensations relax my sore muscles, and I know I’m going to need a fresh pair of panties after… whatever this is. And, on that subject, what, exactly, is this? It’s definitely coming from Harlow.
I bathe in warmth, in connection and pleasure. On the other hand, I feel more than see Harlow reveling in a field of flowers. Small, glowing spheres, too many to count, gravitate to him. They surround him, hold him, and are absorbed into his essence. I feel his euphoric bliss as if it were my own. Another wave swells, and an endless stream of glowing spheres sits on the surface of the tide like lily pads in a pond.
We are connected, Harlow and I, and it feels natural. I could stay here for the rest of my life and never want for anything else.
As though he heard my thoughts, Harlow turns his energy to me and I feel his guilt, his shock and his terror. He’s afraid for me.
And I know why. Because I’ve gone and let him into my heart, completely disregarded the witch doctor’s advice. But… it just sort of… happened. It wasn’t like I thought about letting Harlow in. It was more like… I couldn’t help myself.
In the outside world, Harlow drops my hand, and the newfound warmth rips away. He moves away from me and I’m left bereft. Cold air shocks my system. I’m alone, standing in the middle of a train aisle, panting like I ran a marathon. A few seats down, Harlow braces himself over the back of two seats and breathes just as hard as I am. His chapped lips look smooth, and the bags under his eyes have disappeared. Whatever we did just healed him. But quick healing like that always has a cost.
“What in the…” I start as
