Chapter 14

Late that night, moonlight streamed through the blinds, spilling itself in a silver sheen across Tam’s bed. She rolled over, pulling her blanket snuggly around her shoulders, nestling her face against her pillow. Her breath rose and fell in the easy waves of deep sleep.

“One wish.”

Burns’ voice roused her, claimed her attention. The misty dream world thinned and cleared and, as it did, she found herself on the doorstep outside his impossible house on Carbonnet Street. The door stood ajar and hints of cinnamon and amber and patchouli wafted out.

His voice echoed from within. “One wish…”

He’d promised her a wish. Now, safe within the realms of her dream, she thought she might explore some possibilities that she’d otherwise never consider.

She stepped across the threshold, footsteps lightened by the weightless quality of dreaming, and found herself standing in the familiar foyer. The colors were more intense, more vivid—the high walls, the decorated arches, the frescoed ceilings. Peering around the corner, she spied the impossible hallway. Faint music, a suggestion of drum and pipe and cymbal, drifted from a distant room, and urged her toward the door of his library. She raised her hand to the latch, feeling the cold brass under her hesitant touch.

No. She didn’t want to go into his library. This was her dream—and dreaming was something she was really good at.

A trumpet-blast of birdsong called her attention to his peacock, which strutted behind her toward the hall. A veil of blue and green feathers trailed behind like a bride’s train, capturing her attention. She’d never seen a real peacock this close before. Perhaps she could coax it to show off with a spread of its plume.

Peacocks were vain creatures, weren’t they? How hard could it be?

The bird arched its satin neck and regarded her a moment before parading through an unfamiliar archway. She hurried behind, footsteps making petal-soft touches upon the ground, entranced by the sight of her surroundings.

An oasis spread itself before her. A border of white stone columns had replaced the walls, and the center of the floor was occupied by a long rectangle stretch of serene reflecting pool. No ceiling—overhead was open to a cobalt sky and every surface glinted with gold and sunlight. Beyond the columns, sands surrounded the garden, miles of featureless dune and desolation.

But here—here was sanctuary.

The sides of the room were strewn with silken sheets and pillows, low tables laden with fruits and carafes and countless delicacies. Brass lamps with jewel-colored glass shades hung from chains, their flames undisturbed by the winds that shifted the sands beyond.

Movement on a distant dune drew her gaze. A whirlwind spun and skittered across the sands outside, dancing and twisting a serpentine path across the golden ground. The howling whine grew louder as the turbine approached, sending up sand in a tornado-shaped plume.

And it was headed straight for her.

The whirlwind charged directly toward the enclosure. She’d never seen a whirlwind before, had never faced a situation like this. She was sure that a flank of pillars and open air wouldn’t be enough to withstand the buffeting force of a sandstorm.

She paced backwards to the door, feeling behind her for the arch of the doorway. Her hand struck upon stone. She spun. The door was no longer there.

The howl grew louder. She covered her ears. The ground trembled, platters clattering on the tables. Water in the pool wavered, its tranquil mirror blurring. The whirlwind grew closer.

No place to hide. The impact was imminent. She braced herself against a column, pressed against the hard, warm stone, and covered her head. She cracked one eye to peek—

The whirlwind slammed into the edge of the enclosure, erupting into a sheet of sand that crashed like a wave upon breakers. A shower of sparks spread out from the impact and a burst of flame splashed into the garden.

A shape emerged, composed entirely of flame. Heady spices filled the air as if incense had been burned. The shape, low to the ground, stretched out two forelegs and crouched, swiveling a fiery head in her direction.

A tiger. It blinked its great golden eyes, watching her.

It sprung.

Shimmering in mid-leap, the beast solidified into sleek lines of black and bronze fur, landing with a thump mere feet away from her. It stood as tall as her ribs—a slinking mass of paws and claws that padded forward, circling around her. Tail swinging, eyes narrowed, nose lifting to catch her scent.

It was beautiful. Savage-looking, yes, but beautiful.

And this was her dream.

She reached out a tentative hand toward its broad head. The tiger butted her, closed its eyes and pushed against her palm, rumbling in its throat. She dug her fingers in, delighting at the softness of its thick fur. The tiger yawned, mouth stretched wide in a spread of gleaming teeth, and turned from her. She trailed her fingers along its back as it slinked away.

“Aw,” she said. “Don’t you like to be petted?”

The tiger spun around in a movement so fast its colors blurred. Its shape stretched up like a candle flame before settling into another shape. A human shape.

A familiar human shape, with those same handsome bare feet that she’d caught herself staring at all evening.

“Of course, I do.” Burns turned on his heel to face her. The sight of him was more astounding than had been the tiger. “But all that fur gets in the way.”

His dark hair curled in thick waves, nearly touching his shoulders. Thickly muscled shoulders. The swells of his biceps, at their fullest measure, were wrapped with blue ribbon. Light glanced over each curve, creating shadows that only enhanced his appearance. He wore a blood red sleeveless vest, trimmed in gold stitching. The vest lay open in front to reveal his broad chest, lightly haired. A dark trail graced his pectoral muscles, dripping downward across his dusky-hued skin.

His entire physique was that of grace and strength, both of which seemed boundless. White pants with a broad blue sash accented his narrow waist and drew attention to his rippled stomach.

Looking at her through his lashes, he stroked a thumb over the edge of his mustache, lingering over the corner of his mouth. His lips parted in a hungry hint of a smile.

She drank in every delicious detail and congratulated herself on having such a fine imagination. Dreams like this made going to sleep a worthy endeavor.

He circled her again, pacing slowly like a tiger, bright eyes pinning her in place. “Have you come to redeem your wish?”

She marked his circuit, following him with only her gaze, holding her breath as he passed behind her. The moments stretched and pressed at her until she imagined she could feel him hovering right over her shoulder. Her legs tingled, itching to turn and seek him.

Restraint. Wait for it. “Perhaps.”

He rewarded her patience and stepped back in front of her. He smiled, a tug of lips that revealed far less than the glint in his eyes. That glint spoke volumes. With a wave of his hand, he indicted the room around them. “I’m impressed. You have an exquisite flair for beauty. Have you seen this garden before?”

“Never.” She walked past him, close enough to allow his outstretched hand to brush her side. The slight touch sent sparks tripping across her skin, spreading a flush down her limbs in their wake. She knelt at the pool, admiring the reflection of the sky overhead. A figure of blue flame, edged in gold, appeared at her side.

When she turned her head, she saw only Burns.

He pointed to his reflection.

“My true form.” He crouched beside her, searching her face. “I am a fire elemental. Are you frightened?”

His tone—was it apologetic? She shook her head and turned her gaze once more to the pool. His reflection took her breath away, the intricacies of a rolling flame, licking and twisting and never going out. It, too, was beautiful.

All his forms were savage and beautiful. Tam reached out to touch the water and his fiery reflection shimmered.

“Not really.” She cupped her hand, filling it with water, and held it up for him to see. “Are you?”

His eyes widened, and he stepped back. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She flicked her wrist, spraying him. His utter astonishment loosened her delighted laugh, and she covered her mouth, reaching once more for the water.

He ducked and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet. “You are bold.”

“I can afford to be.”

He narrowed his eyes at her apparent insolence. “And that is because…?”

“I don’t rattle.” She tried to wiggle her hand free from his grasp. “The sand thingie, the tiger, the fire dance. I think they’re interesting. Thrilling.”

“You should be afraid. Sand demons destroy. Tigers devour. And fire burns if one is not careful.” He leaned down toward her face, until they were nose to nose. “What is your wish?”

His heat soaked into her, a familiar sensation that evoked a familiar reaction. Here, she was not bound by codes of ethics or standards of practice. Anywhere else, this would be forbidden—and it made her want it all the more.

She rolled her lips, deliberating. She knew what she wanted. All her life she had only wanted one thing.

To feel.

Something. Anything. Love. Anger. Pity. Grief. One tiny flare of emotion, just an iota of humanity. Just once she’d like to fear for her life, to be delighted to the point of delirium, to regret something and lose sleep over it. Anything.

Just some proof that she was real.

Until quite recently, the only place she ever felt anything was in her dreams. How could she feel so alive, so complete in an imaginary place like this? How can dreams be more real than real life?

And yet, this man did something to her, something that only happened in dreams. Whenever he was near, the walls that locked her down became thinner. She reacted to him. She reacted with him.

He still gripped her wrist, waiting for an answer. They stood chest to chest, close enough for her to see the droplets of water on his face, the barest suggestion of stubble along his clean-shaven jaw. His eyes held flames, dancing wicks. He was not human at all.

He seemed perfectly at peace with himself.

At their feet, the water glowed as if on fire itself, blazing with his reflection. She saw her own reflection, her figure engulfed in his flames. She didn’t burn with him, even though the heat of his flesh sank into her, wrapping itself around her core.

All of this was fantasy. It was all in her mind.

None of this is real.

She swallowed, her mouth like cotton. The realization reminded her that some things were better left unsaid.

If she had a wish, only one precious wish, she might as well spend it on something enjoyable—something she wanted but knew she could never pursue. In reality, Burns was a client. In her dream, he was…accessible.

Why waste a wish on something she could never have, anyway?

Why, indeed, when she was pressed up against an attractive man who was all hers for the dreaming?

She breathed in his scent through her mouth, tasting it. Shouldn’t her heart beat madly, making the blood hum through her veins? Shouldn’t her breathing be quick flutters of anticipation? His mouth, so lush, hovered mere inches away. Shouldn’t she feel something?

Did she even know how?

His cocky gaze softened, and he raised his free hand to stoke her jaw, to push her hair back over her shoulder. His lashes made dark lush spreads, as luxurious as had been the peacock’s plume. He lowered his face to hers, his cheek hovering over her face, his mouth near her ear. He inhaled deeply, exhaling through his mouth against her throat.

A tight sensation rolled through her lower belly, and she closed her eyes, sinking into the burgundy warmth. The slow burn spread like a pool of flame, making her gasp. A very physical reaction. Desire. Perhaps not emotion, but a feeling, nonetheless.

Burns pulled her captive wrist to his chest and encircled her waist with his other arm, drawing her against him.

His mouth brushed against the soft skin below her ear, making her bones turn to liquid. She relished the sensations his nearness created—the heat, the butterflies, the rumble of thunder that tumbled deep through her lower belly, urging her closer. She wilted against him.

He swept her up and carried her to a pile of cushions. Gently, he kneeled and placed her upon them. Burns said nothing but the heat in his eyes spoke volumes. It said everything she wanted to hear.

She lifted a hesitant finger to his mouth, tracing his lower lip. Around them, she heard the sounds of the wind singing across the sand, the dripping of water from the fountain at the far end of the garden. Every sound, every sensation as real as real life. Burns caressed her hand, kissing her fingertips, her wrist. His eyes never released hers.

And she had no reason to run away.

When his lips touched hers, someplace deep inside her ignited. She abandoned all reserve. This could never happen in the real world. There was no need to hold back, not here in the confines of her imagination.

He ran the tip of his tongue between his lips, seeming all too willing to encourage her. His mouth parted like a predator, a hungry smile seeking another kiss. Deeper, slower.

She savored it, the silk of his tongue against hers, their heartbeats racing each other. She arched, lifting from the cushions, and his hands slid down the soft line of her body, to her back, pulling her closer. He would not be satisfied until there was nothing left between them. And neither would she.

If wishes came true, I’d wish we could stay here forever. Her last coherent thoughts melted into a searing blaze of pleasure. It was just as well.

Forbidden thoughts of a man she should never, ever pursue only made for forbidden wishes.