“Because you like the way I look?” She rolled her eyes. “Apparently, my dream mind is shallow.”

“No, not the exterior. You… the tempers and follies and passion… even the way you care for that infuriating steed.” Devlin gazed at her like she was precious. “Even knowing you could be fatal, I would’ve said yes.”

Her chest hurt like she had held her breath too long as she asked, “To?”

“Whatever you wanted.” He didn’t reach out and pull her into his embrace. Instead, he took one step forward, leaned down, and kissed her.

When his mouth opened against hers, she didn’t drink down his energy. It was just a kiss. Admittedly, it was a forget-your-name kiss, but it was not deadly.

Nor was it lust.

Nor was it anonymous.

Kissing Devlin was unlike every other touch she’d known.

She leaned back and stared at him. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Not here.” Devlin was so close that she felt the words on her lips. “We’re safe here.”

The wolves that appeared so often in her dreams were stretched on the sand, peering out from caves in the base of the cliffs, waiting in the trees far above the beach. They all watched with unusual contentment.

“Stay with me,” Devlin whispered, drawing her gaze back to him. “Just a little longer. We can deal with the rest when we wake.”

She wasn’t sure though if his words were a question or a statement. She ran her hands over his bare chest. Like most faeries in her court, his body was one of faint scars and tight muscles. Faeries healed most everything. To have that many scars meant that he saw plenty of violence. “In the room, I tried not to do this.”

He didn’t move away. “Do what?”

“Feel your scars. I’m sorry I don’t have many to share.” She felt a growl in the back of her throat. “Gabriel won’t let me fight.”

“I like the way you fight.”

She grinned. “Mmmm. What else would the dream version say to me? Would you tell me what you really think of me?”

“I would.”

“Would I want to know?”

“I’m not sure.” He kissed her again, briefly this time, and added, “Why don’t you ask me when you are awake, Ani?”

At his tone, Ani wondered if this was a dream. She stepped back and looked at him. He stood topless and barefoot on the beach with her. The sea beyond them was motionless, but for the splashes of curious beasts that occasionally broke the surface. It felt like neither dream nor not-dream.

“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.

“We both are.”

“If this is a dream, why can’t I make clothes vanish?” Ani spoke to herself as much as to him. She reached out to his jeans. “Buttons. Zippers. It’s silly to have these in a dream.”

He didn’t resist. “It is. They’re a nuisance in the waking world too.”

Ani gasped as he slid his hand under the edge of her shirt. “I’m dreaming.”

“Yes, but this”—his fingers curled around her side— “is”—he tugged her closer—“real too.”

Then he kissed her, emotions raw and available. When he pulled back, he told her, “You were the one who stopped, Ani. Not me.”

“For your own good,” she reminded.

“You underestimate me.” He wasn’t walking away, nor was he weakened by the energy she was drowning in. “Don’t walk away this time.”

For a beautiful moment, she was reminded of the first instant when she’d seen him, shadowed and looking like trouble. She’d thought him like Irial then, but as she pulled him to the sand with her, she admitted that Devlin had replaced Irial as her fantasy that very day.

She unbuttoned his jeans and gave herself over to the kisses she’d craved.

Ani jolted awake still in Devlin’s arms, but they were in the motel—not on the beach. For a moment, there were more emotions washing over her than she’d thought she could swallow. She closed her eyes and let the skin contact and emotional deluge fill her up, but touching could be enough to weaken him if he was letting his emotions free simultaneously. It wasn’t as bad as kissing, but it was still dangerous.

“Stop… something,” she whispered.

Rather than stop holding her, he walled his feeling up. He ran his fingers through her hair, tugging gently as the sleep snarls caught on his fingers.

Ani felt better than she had since she discovered her dual appetites. “I’m… sated.”

“You sound surprised.” His hand continued down her shoulder and onto her arm.

“It’s the first time.” She kissed him quickly, lips closed, and then rolled over and stretched. “Ever.”

“Good.” He didn’t move at all or have any inflection in his voice.

The lack of emotion was so different from the version of him in her dream that she felt a foolish surge of sadness. In her dream, Devlin had no barriers, no hesitation, no impenetrable wall. He’d reached for her hand. He hadn’t needed to hide his feelings.

But that wasn’t real.

In the real world, Devlin couldn’t kiss her with his emotions laid bare: she’d drain the life from him.

“Do you want to shower before we leave?” She sat cross- legged beside him.

He still hadn’t moved. His brow was furrowed, and his emotions were locked down. “We should talk.”