Page 193 of Flirting with Darkness

The blank walls had doors once again, and he kicked one open, strode out into the hall and up the stairs towards our chambers.

“You’re not talking,” he reminded me, a growl in his voice.

“Fine.” I busied my left hand by playing with his chest hair. It was a welcome distraction from my arm. “So that was a kelpie, huh?”

He dipped his head.

“If you want me to talk,youshould probably try being more talkative.”

“Still too angry. That thing could’ve… Besides”—he tilted his head away and gave me a sidelong look—“you’re talkative enough for both of us.”

I scoffed but couldn’t call him a liar. “Is that a complaint?”

“Did I say it was?”

“No, but—”

“I’m not complaining about anything you are or do, flower. Just keep talking to me. I love the sound.”

I blinked. Swallowed. Felt foolishly giddy. That had to be the blood loss.

I cleared my throat. “So that kelpie didn’t look like a horse, it…” But the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t say how it had changed shape, how its form had shifted from horse-like to humanoid. Its front hooves had shifted to sharp-clawed hands. I tried again, but the words danced away, and my tongue fell still in my mouth, useless and silent.

Even in dreams, the geas on this house had power over me. I just didn’t know exactly what that power was.

The only way I could keep talking was by changing the subject, so I spoke about dinner and training and other things, while Faolán carried me to our room.

“I don’t know if this will work to wake us up,” he said, standing over the bed. “But worth a try.” He eased me onto the mattress and the moment my head hit the pillow, came nothingness.

* * *

I woke in our bed, Faolán sitting up beside me a moment later. Stubble, dark circles under his eyes—he looked haggard.

I winced as I moved, because—

“Shit.”

We were in the here and now with the tatty decor, but the kelpie’s slices still marked my skin in deep crimson.

They should’ve disappeared when I woke in the real world.

It was a dream. They were only dream injuries, and yet…

I looked up at Faolán, searching for an answer. But the way he stared at my wounds, eyes wide—he was just as shocked.

He met my gaze and I nodded, because I knew what he was thinking.

Maybe House wasn’t friendly and kind but dangerous. And if injuries from its dreams carried over into real life…

Death in one of its dreams meantdeath.

28

OF SEELIE & UNSEELIE

Faolán tended to my wounds, applying his odd-smelling salve and bandages with all the care of a mother cat cleaning her kittens. He held me close and explained in a low, lulling voice that the salve would stop infection and speed healing. His gentle touch soothed my fear too and helped me fall into a natural sleep, curled in his embrace.

The next morning, I was still there. No more dreams had come for us, as though his arms were enough to shield me from them.

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