Page 69 of Ex Somnis

And so are my stupid breadstick fingers.

Fuck.

“Release me,” I snap.

“I’m not keeping you here.” His voice lowers slightly. “Not directly.”

He wanders farther inside, studying the apartment with unsettling focus. The mess, the bare walls. Then he lifts one hand, and white curtains bloom into existence beside the windows. Warm light spills across hardwood floors that weren’t there seconds ago. A gray rug unfurls beneath my feet, then a gray couch appears there, extremely uncomfortable-looking, and white bookshelves and table.

It’s beautiful in the way of a hotel room someone paid a lot of money for.

“Stop.” I raise my hand and let it all dissolve into nothing again.

My apartment, bare, real, and mine.

Lucien looks at me over his shoulder, and there’s something unreadable in his expression now.

“This is my dreamscape. You can’t just waltz in and…”

“Your stability is impressive.” He crosses the room before I realize he moved. Close enough that I catch his scent, something dark, warm, and unfamiliar beneath the apartment’s cold air.

Close enough that my pulse betrays me.

“But you can only do this,” he says quietly. “Because I allow you to.”

His hand lifts toward my face, and instinct fires through me. Honey snaps up from the floor and around his wrist before he reaches me, hardening instantly and locking him in place inches from my skin.

“And I don’t allow you to touch me.”

For the first time, genuine surprise flickers across his face. He looks down at the honey around his wrist, pulls once experimentally, then slowly lifts his eyes back to mine, and smiles. “Impressive,” he murmurs again.

I swallow hard and tighten the honey reflexively. His gaze drops briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

Oh, absolutely not.

I step back immediately and release him. The honey melts away, and Lucien rubs his wrist once, watching me with infuriating patience.

“The door is still open. If you can’t sustain this, if you get frightened or you simply decide you no longer want to be alone here…” His head tilts slightly. “I’ll keep it open for you.”

“That’s supposed to comfort me?”

“No.” Another tiny smile. “It’s honesty.”

Lonely things are dangerous.

I force myself to hold his gaze. “I’m going home. With her.”

“I’m sure you’ll try very hard.”

“No.” My voice sharpens. “I’ll do it.”

“Your subconscious is remarkably stable, Lennon Maes,” he repeats. “You may last longer than I expected.” Then his eyes drag slowly over my face again. “But unlike you and Tessa.” His smile turns almost unbearably gentle. “I have time.”

Then he’s gone.

The apartment falls silent, so abruptly that it makes my ears ring.

I stand there breathing hard, staring at the empty space where he was.