I unceremoniously dropped my robe and slipped the nightie over my head. The lace bodice was so revealing I was practically topless, and the short skirt floated over my hips. As I pulled on the matching panties, I deliberately did not question why I’d decided on this outfit. Then I flipped off the air conditioner (whenever it runs while I sleep I get a headache), opened the window, and climbed into bed. In no time, I was asleep.
I felt him before I saw him, his firm body pressed against mine, his lips caressing the back of my neck. Micah. I rolled over to face him. Even in the darkness of my room I could see he was still in that weird brown getup, boots and all, but I didn’t care. Hopefully, it would be gone soon.
“Micah,” I murmured, savoring his name on my tongue. “You’re here.”
“I heard your call, my Sara,” he murmured. “You’re wearing more here,” he continued, tracing the edge of my panties, “but less here.” His deft fingers danced across my lacy bodice.
“Do you like it?”
“I do.” Micah hooked a finger inside my panties and drew them lower. “I most certainly do.” We remained wrapped in each other for long, blissful moments, until he spoke again. “I am so glad you called me again, my Sara.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” I asked. Yes, I argued with a dream. I am a psychology student’s dream thesis. Ha ha. Dream. “You’re not even real.”
At that, Micah raised his head. “I am as real as you are,” he replied, somewhat indignantly. “Twice now, you have called me to your dream.”
What? No, no, no, no, that’s not good. Not good, not good at all. “That’s not possible,” I whispered.
“It is more than possible, my Sara. It has come to pass.” Serious now, Micah sat up and took my hands. “I have watched you often, gazing toward the entrance to my lands. I’ve always felt your power. Still, until earlier today, I had no idea that you are a Dreamwalker, as I am.”
He said it. He just had to say it. “Don’t say that!” Micah looked hurt and confused, so I amended, “If anyone hears you, there’ll be questions.” I glanced toward the open window, but I neither saw nor heard a drone whizzing by.
Micah nodded, but his brow remained furrowed. “As you wish.”
“I still don’t understand,” I continued, moving to sit up. “You say I was looking toward your lands, but I don’t even know where you’re from.”
“Where you put your mechanical for the day,” he replied as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “The trees you favor mark the entrance to my domain.”
Once I figured out that ‘mechanical’ meant ‘car’, I considered where I parked in the office lot. I’d always chosen to leave my convertible in the back of the lot, mainly because it was a nice car and most of my coworkers, like most everyone else these days, were dirt poor. I didn’t want to answer any questions about how I could afford such a nice vehicle if I didn’t have to.
But Micah was right in that I’d always favored one particular spot. It was situated in front of two pine trees, their massive trunks wound together like a lovers’ embrace. I’d never seen anything like it, certainly not in such big trees, and they’d captivated me from the moment I saw them. And yes, I gazed at them often.
“The pine trees?” I asked. Micah smiled when he nodded. But that didn’t answer my questions, since they weren’t in front of a door or path. There wasn’t even anything behind them, except the electric fence separating REES from the property next door.
Suddenly, my eyes widened in shock and recognition and I grabbed a handful of his silvery hair, exposing a set of pointed ears. “You’re an elf!”
“Micah Silverstrand, Lord of the Whispering Dell,” he replied, with a polite nod. Rubbing my temples, I considered my situation. I was in a dream that wasn’t a dream, sitting in bed with a man whom I’d thought was a mere figment of my imagination, but who happened to be some sort of royal elf. And a Dreamwalker. Like me. Maybe—hopefully—I was just really drunk.
But... I can’t explain it, but as I looked at this elf, with his silver eyes and fluffy hair, he was more real to me than anyone else I’d ever known.
“I’m sorry, Micah,” I said at length. “I didn’t know I could call anyone this way. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”
At that, his pale brows nearly touched. “When you offered a token and lay nearly bare before me, I assumed you wanted me.” Token? Oh, right, panties. “And tonight, you have bathed for me, attired yourself as a queen, and have allowed me egress to your chamber. What else was I to think?” I stared from the open window to my silk nightie. Why had I put this on? Had I been calling him, subconsciously? Could I even do that? I didn’t know. But I couldn’t do it again. Not unless I wanted to end up like Max.
Micah was still speaking, so I met his gaze. “When I learned that you are of metal, as I am, our attraction became clear.” Crap. He knows I’m an Elemental, too?
Of metal. There are two ways one can learn the workings of magic: years and years of rigorous study, or by simply being born to it. If you’re born into a magical bloodline, you’re said to be touched by an element, either earth, air, fire, water, or metal. The nature of your element is passed from father to child, just like a surname. Once in a while, someone is born touched by more than one element, but that’s awfully rare.
You also take on the characteristics of your chosen element, or rather, the element that’s chosen you. For instance, those touched by fire tend to be quick to anger, and those of earth are stubborn but loyal. I’ve never met anyone who admitted to being touched by water, but I’ve always imagined them as cowardly. And air? Who knows what they’re like? Flighty, perhaps?
I’ve always been glad that my family’s line is of metal. It means I’m strong, both physically and mentally, and courageous. I’m loyal, like those of earth, but not quite so stubborn. And... and that’s all I really know, because we haven’t been allowed to speak of magic since the wars ended, and magic was outlawed.
I was young when the wars had begun, but from what I remembered, the news reports all said that the wars had started when those who’d been born without magic became jealous of Elementals’ innate abilities. So, the learned magicians got together with the Mundane humans and started up their own civil rights movement, claiming that they should be considered equal to the Elementals. The problem was, they weren’t equal. They never, ever would be, being that it took months, or years, for a Mundane to learn even simple spells, like the casting of a fey stone. When the Elementals brought up this small but important fact, all hell had broken loose. Literally.
Still, there had been no war or outright rebellion. The learned magicians may have been collectively outraged, but they grudgingly accepted their place, and the Mundane humans—those who did not study magic—were content with things as they were. Then, a Fire Elemental conceived of a way to sell fey stones to the masses. Normally a fey stone will only burn in the presence of its caster, but this enterprising individual spent decades studying the spell and determined which materials would cause the light to burn for years. It was a brilliant invention, one that could save the average family hundreds, or maybe thousands, in electricity. Just imagine, a never-ending light bulb.
The Mundane CEO of the power company had not been pleased by this development.
The wars had lasted almost three years, but we weren’t discouraged. We—the Elementals—knew that we were stronger, and we’d never had any doubt that we’d prevail. Then, the unthinkable happened. We lost.
To this day, no one knows how. Oh, there’s lots of speculation, but the real reasons remain somewhat elusive. The schoolbooks say that many of the war mages realized the error of their ways and immolated themselves. Yes, they used the word immolate, and that, right there, is a clue that it’s all propaganda. Other sources claim that Elementals don’t mesh well with those of opposing natures, and infighting was what did us in. That supposed infighting was also the impetus for creating the Peacekeepers, a squad of government goons special
ly outfitted to make Elemental lives miserable.
Well, no matter which version they hand out in their propaganda, the end result was the same: the Council of Elementals disappeared, and without their leadership, we lost.
My dad was on that council.
Once the Mundanes claimed victory, we assumed that life would pretty much return to normal, but we were so, so wrong. Instead of just declaring themselves equal to the Elementals, the learned magicians were outlawed, along with all other ‘unlicensed magic.’ In essence, without a special dispensation from the government (who toss spells around like cheap confetti) you could be thrown in prison for something as innocuous as conjuring up a bit of heat to warm your coffee.
We never found out what happened to Dad.
I’d spent most of my life trying to pass for ordinary. I tried to act like a Mundane human, someone who didn’t understand magic. I never talked about it, never thought about it, and never, ever practiced it. So, how did Micah know?
“Of metal?” I asked, tentatively.
“I was certain when I felt your mark.” Huh. No one mentioned marks, either. I usually kept mine covered, but those who saw it either thought it was a tramp stamp, or refused to let on that they recognized the signs of magic. “Copper, yes?”
“Copper,” I affirmed, my voice now hardly a whisper. “You could tell just by feeling it?”
“By your hair,” he replied. I protested that I dyed my hair, but he looked pointedly at my hips. Oh, right. “May I see it? Your mark, I mean.”
I didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t, since he’d pretty much seen the rest of me. I turned around and lifted my nightie, exposing the mark across my lower back that forever named me as a member of the Raven clan, one of the most powerful bloodlines in history. Well, before magic was outlawed; now we were just... regular. And watched. My mark was copper colored, and took the shape of a raven with its wings outstretched, the tips of the feathers reaching my sides. My sister, Sadie, bore a nearly identical mark. I didn’t remember what Max’s mark had looked like.
Micah traced the edges of the raven, his light touch sending shivers through my body. I remembered how he’d massaged my back during our earlier encounter, how I’d instantly become a molten heap of need. “Is everyone’s mark so sensitive?” I asked.
“Some, but not all,” he replied, his fingers now stroking my spine, near the raven’s maw. “Fire marks may burn you if you touch them, and those of stone feel hardly anything at all.”
“Do you have a mark?” I asked, peeking over my shoulder. Again, Micah smiled at me.
“I do.” He pulled off his leather shirt, revealing wiry muscle sheathed in warm, caramel skin. Before I could truly appreciate the most attractive male chest I’d ever encountered, he turned his back and I saw his mark. It was shining, metallic silver, just as mine was copper. It swept across his back like filigree wings emanating from his spine, arching over his shoulder blades in a graceful fall that reached below his waist.
“You... you’re silver,” I murmured, my eyes flitting from his mark to his hair. “Just like I’m copper, you’re silver.” Micah murmured some sort of an agreement, but I barely heard him. Hesitantly, I touched his back, his mark glinting in the near-dark. His flesh was warm and inviting, almost hot where it was incised with silver. “Oh, Micah. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Many thanks, my Sara.” His muscles tensed, and I wondered if touching his mark was having the same effect on him as when he’d touched mine. I dropped my hands, and he turned to face me. “Forgive me, if I’ve misinterpreted your actions.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing, calling you,” I admitted. “But I am that glad you came back to me.” At that, he kissed me—hard—and pushed me onto my back. I didn’t resist, far from it. I welcomed him.
“Wait,” I breathed. “Will I ever see you while we’re awake?”
“You wish to?”
I nodded. “More than anything.”
“Hold me tightly, my Sara.” I did, and the air thickened and rippled around us. Once again, I heard street noises, the radio blaring one floor up, and I could smell the alley. I’d been so thoroughly enchanted by Micah, I hadn’t noticed the lack of the usual annoyances. But now that I was awake, they had returned, and there was a half-naked man in my bed.
I screamed, my wakeful self having no idea who Micah was or why he was here. Ever practical, Micah kissed me, effectively smothering my cries and jogging my memory at the same time. He knew he’d succeeded when I stopped screaming and kissed him back.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, still trembling. “It was so sudden!”
“It is hard to pull yourself to wakefulness so quickly,” he murmured. “You behaved much better than I did my first time.”
“I did?” He nodded, and wiped away tears I hadn’t noticed. “Thank you.”
“For what, my Sara?”
I didn’t get to answer. My screams must have woken Juliana, and she was banging on my door. “I’m fine!” I yelled. “Just a nightmare.”
“Open up!” Now, she was jiggling the handle. Luckily, I always locked my door, a habit left over from sleeping in the dorms, but she was insistent. Once she had decided on doing something, nothing could stop her.
“She can’t find you here,” I whispered. “They’ll kill you if they find you.” Micah nodded, and in the next moment, he was gone. I don’t mean he left by way of the window, which I assumed was how he got in; he was here, and then he wasn’t. I blinked but was quickly dragged out of my amazement by Juliana’s banging and yelling. I pulled on my robe and threw open the door.
“You’re gonna wake the neighbors,” I admonished.
“The way you screamed, I thought one of them was murdering you,” she countered.
“Aw. My Juliana in shining armor.” She responded with an artful sneer, and we were back to normal.
“It’s almost six, anyway. I’ll make some coffee.”
I nodded and shut the door to dress. Not only did I not want to explain my silk nightie to Juliana, but I figured I might as well get ready now. There wouldn’t be any more sleep for me at the moment. After I picked out a pair of jeans and a shirt, I took off my robe and almost screamed again. He had taken my panties!
<<<>>>
CONTINUE THE STORY here.
About the Author
Jennifer Allis Provost is a native New Englander who lives in a sprawling colonial along with her beautiful and precocious twins, a dog, a parrot, a junkyard cat, and a wonderful husband who never forgets to buy ice cream. As a child, she read anything and everything she could get her hands on, including a set of encyclopedias, but fantasy was always her favorite. She spends her days drinking vast amounts of coffee, arguing with her computer, and avoiding any and all domestic behavior.
Find her on the web here: http://authorjenniferallisprovost.com/
Friend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jennallis
Follow her on Twitter: @parthalan
Other books by Jennifer Allis Provost:
The Copper Legacy, a four book urban fantasy:
Copper Girl
Copper Ravens
Copper Veins
Copper Princess
A duology based in the Copper world:
Redemption
Salvation
Gallowglass, an urban fantasy set in Scotland and New York:
Gallowglass
Walker
Homecoming
The Winter’s Queen Trilogy, featuring characters from Gallowglass
Touch of Frost
Giant’s Daughter
Elphame’s Queen
The Chronicles of Parthalan, a six volume epic fantasy:
Heir to the Sun
The Virgin Queen
Rise of the Deva’shi
Golem
Elfsong
Blood Prince
Changes, a contemporary romance:
Changing Teams
Changing Scenes
&nb
sp; Changing Fate
Changing Dates
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