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“Fine,” I agreed, breathless. “But, um. Shouldn’t we… like, know each other’s names? If I fall into a fire, I have to know whom to call.”
He gave me a hard look, so startling on his face, which looked made for mischief.
“I will never let you fall into a fire. At least,” he said, the smile again playing at the corners of his mouth, “not a literal one. A fire of passion is an entirely different matter. I’m Pan.”
“Jane. And thank you.”
“Follow me, Jane.”
With one last twinkling look, Pan pulled me into the smoky multitude of bodies. We passed by the fires, some of them hot, some freezing cold, some shimmering like piles of precious gems.
The Revel.
There were creatures with horns, wings, tails—or branches growing from their torsos where arms would be. I spotted ashirtless guy wearing a jack-o’-lantern on his head. Except, when he turned, I realized itwashis head. The hole of his mouth was moving, and fire burned within.
“That’s Jack,” Pan explained, tugging me closer to himself. “If he crosses paths with Satan, there’s going to be blood. Or pumpkin juice. I’m not sure what’s running through his veins. It might be interesting, but now that you are by my side, I’d rather skip their fight. I find you much worthier of my attention.”
He let go of my elbow and caught my hand. Before I could reply, we were off again, weaving our way between the other revelers.
Further down, the clearing opened wide and formed a maze. Tall hedges divided the paths, lit with torches burning ordinary fire.
We entered the maze and sound from the crowd dimmed, although the music remained eerie with the plaintive call of the fiddle, the wild drumbeat urging my blood to flow faster.
“This portion of the Revel looks different every year,” Pan explained, walking so close to my side that our arms brushed. Goosebumps trailed me from being so close to this strong, male, clean-smelling, stranger. “Last year, it was a lake with waterfalls. Oh, you should have seen the mermaids! I spent the entire night watching them.”
He looked down at my face and stopped, leaning closer. His lips brushed my earlobe, and I couldn’t help but sigh.
His voice lowered. “But then again, if you had been here with me, I wouldn’t have noticed the mermaids.”
The hedge muffled sounds of conversation and giggling from a parallel path. We passed a couple deep in conversation—who looked entirely normal until I noticed his silver tail curled around the woman’s bum.
We walked and walked. Music came from everywhere at once, beating to our every step. Laughter and moans grew louderand softer in turn, making me think about the entirely too few parties I’d attended.
I’m a wallflower.
I felt my palms sweat with the heat, the walking, and the impossibility of everything around us. But Pan’s hold on my hand never wavered. He kept my hand in his large, warm grip and led me with absolute certainty.
His manner alone—the way he telegraphed his interest in me without a smidge of self-consciousness or uncertainty—frankly melted my panties.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. We’d reached a quieter spot by a headily scented rosebush that glittered with gold and pink lights. “Because I am.”
From the way he said it—looking right at my lips, his eyes hooded, mouth spread in a luxurious grin—I knew he wasn’t talking about food.
My heart beat faster, and my thoughts scattered. I had no suave response to that. All I wanted to say was: Yes, take me right now.
Even my shock at this place being real, at magic being real, was wearing off—replaced by a much more potent fluttering of my heart and other bits of my anatomy.
It was the first party where a man took interest in me right from the start—or at all—and I was going to say yes.
But something nagged at me. Almost everyone we had passed on our way looked unhuman. And Pan—apart from his obvious beauty and too-sharp teeth—looked very ordinary. Despite his mythical name.
“I might be,” I finally said. “I mean, I am. Yes, I am hungry. But… I wonder what dish is being offered.”
I looked at him, panicked that my nervous rambling would scare him off, but Pan chuckled quietly, his seductive smolder still in place.
“I was not talking about food,” I clarified and buried my face in my hands.
Pan caught my wrists in a gentle grip and pulled my hands away, baring my blush.
