CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Dreams...

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Dreams…

She was standing in the middle of a vast orchard: a wild orchard, with trees in various states of growth and blossoms falling from their branches like rain, softly carpeting the earth below. The wind rustled Story’s hair, causing it to brush against her elbow. She sighed loudly.

“Not again.”

Warm arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and she was pulled tightly against a broad, firm, bare chest.

“Hello, Story,” Morrigann’s husky voice whispered in her ear. “I did not expect to see you here again. At least not so soon.” He sounded cocky and smug. Her blood boiled, and raising her right foot, she smashed it down on his instep.

His arms instantly loosened, and she stepped away from him before whirling around.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. This was a complication she did not need or want.

Morrigann was seated on his throne in front of The Ailes rubbing his right foot with his hands. “That hurt. You really should learn some manners, especially when you are a guest in someone else’s home.” Then he looked up at her, his violet eyes glittering. “As for your question, why don’t you tell me?” Letting go of his foot, he stood up and walked over to her once again, leaving only a few inches between them.

“You aren’t welcome in my dreams any more.” Story fought the urge to back away from him and the even greater urge to close those last few inches and kiss him.

What the heck is wrong with me?

This jerk had tried to kill her on at least three occasions (that she knew of), and now she was thinking about kissing him?

He leaned over and brushed his lips lightly against the shell of her ear as he answered. “Obviously some part of you wants me here.” Then he pulled away and smiled knowingly. “What’s wrong, trouble with the elfling? I’m not surprised; he’s a child.” Morrigann moved behind her and whispered in her other ear. “Whereas I could make you a queen. All this could be yours to rule.” He gestured with his arm at the magical wood before them. “The pixies would be your friends, and you could dance with them every night.”

His lips left her ear and began trailing soft, fiery kisses down her neck. Story felt warmth spread through her. She could hear music, her father’s lullaby, playing quietly in the background, and felt her hips began to sway along with it. Morrigann’s hands slid down from her shoulders over her arms and slowly to her wrists before finally entwining his fingers with hers.

He pulled her tight to him, wrapping their joined arms around her chest tightly, and swayed with her for a few beats before spinning her around to face him. Sparks glinted off his golden hair, and his skin shimmered, radiating magic. Story smiled dreamily up at him and he pulled her close again. Cupping his broad hand behind her neck, he stared down at her, his eyes smoldering.

“See, isn’t it better when we’re nice to each other?” His lips brushed lightly across her mouth, teasing her.

She gripped his shoulders with her hands and smiled against his honey sweet lips. “Mmmm,” she murmured pleasurably before thrusting her knee into his groin. The loud groan he gave was one of the most satisfying sounds she’d ever heard.

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” She shoved him roughly in the chest. “I don’t want you here.”

The scene shifted before he even hit the ground.

She was sitting at the square log table in the cabin’s kitchen. The smell of fresh waffles wafted through the air, and Story’s stomach rumbled.

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