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My Hayden comes so beautifully, so divinely. Her mouth falls open, and her eyes flutter shut, her hair a wild mess of waves from the tug of my shadows against her. The sound of her ecstasy has my erection throbbing, but I ignore the ache.
I can’t.
Wecan’t.
Not yet anyway.
Not until she understands the stakes. Fucking in fantasies is one thing. But sex with my fated mate in reality? It would seal the mating bond. She would be mineforever. Yet the demon’s bargain requires her consent with full understanding of the consequences.
As much as I despise the demon prince, he’s not wrong.
I pushed Hayden into the last ten years because I wanted her. Forcing her back into her body, back into this life without a choice of going to the After Worlds? That was because of my obsession, not out of consideration for her.
Letting her down until her feet almost touch the ground, I straighten her dress, although her panties…those I don’t return.
“Even better in reality than the hottest fantasies,” she whispers.
“So much better.”
A lazy smile curves her lips, and she slides a hand through my shadows. “And we’ve only begun.”
At that, I finally let her go, sweeping a shadow along her jaw. “No, I have to woo you properly first.”
She rises on her tiptoes, pressing against me. “Consider me wooed.”
“There are things you have to know before we?—”
“I thought we knew each other pretty well after ten years of shared secrets.”
“Yes, but—” I stop mid-sentence, lifting my head at the sounds from the gate that shields the property and pushing her behind me. I’ve warded her van against revenants. What I failed to ward was the property against outsiders.Damn. “Someone’s here.”
Hayden
Good Time Glenda’svoice reaches me before I make it to the gate with Wren trying to shield me the entire way. I break into a run, pushing past him as I round the last curve. “Glenda, thank goodness you’re okay.”
“Me?” She clings to the gate like she’s wrapping her ghost fingers around prison bars. “We came to bust you out before the Big Bad tears apart your soul.”
We? I glance around at the ragtag crew, blinking against the sunlight because I forgot to grab my prescription shades. They’d been the last thing on my mind when I’d been wrapped in thrumming shadows, surrounded by seductive darkness, and one moment away from insisting Wren have his way with me.
Wooing.
Who the hell needs wooing? Not me. Not after ten long years of teasing and endless sexual tension only he can satisfy.
Sure, I had one glorious orgasm with him eating me out like I was a gourmet delicacy.
Fine, it’d been absolute bliss to have him lift me as though I weigh nothing and run his shadows beneath my dress to the point I felt more exposed than I’ve ever been naked.
More than that—I felt worshipped.
But when had my Shadow Daddy decided I needed to be babied rather than bossed around?
Glenda’s hands pass through the gate as she reaches for me. “We’ve come to help you escape. I gathered everyone who haunts the local graveyards and the few others willing to brave a Render. Bertie the Bard here says a Render can’t pass through iron bars.” She gestures toward a ghost who looks as though he escaped from a muddy Ren Faire with a turkey leg still gripped firmly in his fist.
Wren’s magic wraps around me, his shadows teasing against my ear. “Bertie the Bard should’ve studied his folklore better,” he whispers, his deep voice making me shiver regardless of how mad I was at him only seconds before. “Iron works against fae,maybe a few witches, and some ghosts—although obviously not this half-dressed one.”
“She’s my friend,” I tell him. “It’s not her fault she died without pants. Or a skirt.” Or probably undies although I’ve never looked too closely because her shirt’s bubble-letteredHere For A Groovy Good Timeseemed a clear sign not to. “Would iron do anything to revenants?”
He pauses. “It might stun them. I’ve never tried.”
