Page 1 of Wake the Dream

Chapter One

Illaria

She’d never given muchthought to why humans and fairies should not mix. A cautionary tale—the oldest Fae kind—warned against intermingling on a personal basis. Illaria knew, of course, that interbreeding was taboo. In many ways, Fae and humans were completely incompatible.

Thenhewalked into the bar. And she was reminded yet again that in many more ways Fae and humans could be a delicious mixture. Illaria pushed the warnings out of her head entirely.

The man looked ready. He would be an easy target. Human 100%—plus somethingextra.

Lots of tourists with magical juju were drawn to this town, drawn by the powerful ley lines that made Hedgehill Marsh special and allowed its residents to hide in plain sight. All the better for Illaria and her sister, Yelena.

Illaria took her time with the approach, a glance now and then, a smile when it suited. She knew the game and had danced the dance more times than she wanted to admit in her fifty years of living in the town.

Good thing she didn’t look older than twenty-six, a deliciously delightful perk of being Fae-born.

Then she lost herself to smooth lips. Hot skin. The promise of more when her target introduced himself. The rest of the bar faded away as her attention was caught by the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his thighs, the scent of him—essence ofmale.

The perfect way to end the day in Oregon.

She brought the man from the bar to her hotel room with the anticipation of some Olympics-worthy sexual escapades, where she was sure to come away with the gold medal. She always did.

For the next hour, her reality consisted of fervent, exploring hands and lips and a set of muscles she could use to hold up her car. In one word: delicious.

Illaria knew it wouldn’t amount to anything serious, but she had to enjoy life to the best of her abilities. Otherwise, she’d go stark raving mad from the isolation.

She shoved her partner’s shirt off one shoulder and ran her lips along his skin, teasing him with nibbles here and there. She breathed him in, a hot swell of magic rising inside of her. Air magic. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains in the room although they remained closed and locked.

She used to be afraid she’d be seen for what she was. Luckily, she’d stumbled upon the town nestled deep in the Oregon wilderness purely by accident when she and her sister were searching for a place to disappear.

Now, they didn’t have to. No one did.

All kinds of wrong for her and she knew it, Illaria dove into intimacy with the stranger with the zest of a competitive swimmer hearing the firing signal. She craved that little death. Loved the look of his golden skin against pristine white sheets.

Her bedfellow pulled back long enough to stare at her, blinking rapidly. “What was your name, again?”

His brown eyes reminded her of a puppy dog. Wide, sad, and willing to come alive with the promise of food. Or sex, in this case. Illaria couldn’t promise to put it on the table—fairies were known for being notorious tricksters—but she’d enjoy the fun while it lasted. Unless she changed her mind at the last minute. But the way he held her, the way her body responded, she had a good idea how the night would end for both of them.

“Does it matter?” She asked the question in return, syllables light and lyrical, pushing her fingers through his slightly too-styled hair.

The man didn’t answer, which meant he agreed. Or at least in her mind it did.

His lips eased toward hers, drawing a reaction from deep inside. It was a different kind of magic, she knew, and one humans shared with their monster brethren.

Still, she’d have been better off not grabbing his attention to begin with, if the tongue lashing she’d receive upon going home was any indication. Her sister had taken up the mantle of notorious shamer. If Yelena found out where Illaria had gone, she would hear no end to the nagging about making better choices.

They strained against the bed with enough force to rattle the bland oatmeal-and-brown painted mountain landscape held in a plastic frame on the wall.

Meaningless sex had become a way to cope with stress. Illaria knew that, too. Cope with being trapped in the mortal world instead of her native land. At the moment, however, she pushed those thoughts aside to better enjoy the man’s truly delicious physique as he fisted a hand in her moonlight-colored hair.

She ripped his shirt from his shoulders and placed her mouth on the curve of his neck. A groan of appreciation rumbled in his throat.

“God, walking into that bar...it’s my lucky night. Gotta be.”

Not yet, but it was about to turn into it.

She relished the anticipation, the kind of evening where the body bent in all kinds of interesting ways and ended up slicked and sated, the mind curiously blank.

Too bad this was becoming a frequent ritual of hers. Settling down in the bar and sipping on one too many ambrosia sours—a Hedgehill Marsh special—waiting to pick up a stranger because she wanted tofeelsomething.

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