Chapter Nine Dreams Do Come True
Chapter Nine
Dreams Do Come True
Lore
I walked behind Samara as we made our way through the forest, pelted by icy rain. She was not fine, and she was cold, shivering so hard she could barely walk. I had tried to offer her my cloak, but she had shoved it off and left it on the ground, charging ahead wrapped in the wet blanket from the river. It was frustrating that she was so stubborn, that she would sacrifice her comfort just because she was angry with me.
I could fucking kill Cardic.
I would when I saw him next.
Why would he tell her I was in love when I could not tell her she was who I loved?
It didn't matter that she had kissed me back or that she had liked it. What mattered was that she did not know the truth of who I was, and I did not want to tell her, because I didn't want to watch as she realized her mistake and rejected me a second time.
She was right. I was a coward.
We continued to make our way through the forest, but soon even the fox slowed, his fur weighed down with ice.
"We must find shelter," I said.
"I know of a place," said the fox. "It is not much, but it is not far."
I did not care what it was so long as Samara was out of this weather.
The fox led us on, twisting through trees and down slippery hills until we came to what I could only describe as a lean-to. It was basically a room with three walls and a thatched roof, but it had an iron stove. Inside, the ash was nearly solid. I scraped it onto the floor, uncaring of the mess I made, highly aware of how deeply Samara was shivering. Once it was clean, I rose and headed out into the rain.
"Where are you going?" Samara asked.
It was the first time she had spoken to me since last night.
"To find wood for the fire," I said.
"It's raining," she said.
"There is still a chance I can find dry wood," I said. "I will return. Fox will keep you safe."
I wandered out again and searched high and low for dry wood. It was harder to find with the forest so wet, but there were dead branches tangled in the canopy above that had managed to stay mostly dry. I also gathered a few larger logs, as it was possible to split them into smaller, dryer pieces.
When I returned, I found Samara curled in the corner and the fox lying on her feet. They were both shivering. I set to work with a sense of urgency, picking pieces of thatch from the roof to use as kindling. I pried apart the logs with my knife and shaved away pieces of dry wood.
Once a fire blazed in the stove, I turned to the opening of the lean-to and summoned my magic. Thorns sprouted from the wood, and vines burst from the ground, weaving through one another and blossoming until the lean-to was closed off from the outside. It wasn't necessary to keep the space warm, but I thought Samara might prefer it.
When I was finished, I turned to find her watching me.
"Sorry," she said and cleared her throat. "I just…haven't seen you use your magic before."
"I don't mind when you watch me," I said, even though she dropped her gaze after.
I took off my cloak and hung it from a knot on the wood and then pulled off my tunic, which was mostly dry, far dryer than Samara's wet blanket and dress.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
I looked at her, disliking how alarmed she sounded.
"You need to change into something dry," I said.
"But what about you?"
I smiled faintly. "While I would not mind you naked, I imagine you prefer otherwise."
She stared at me, then stood, slipping the wet blanket from her shoulders.
"Change in front of the fire," I said.
I took the blanket and tried my best to hang it so that it could dry while she changed. I wasn't prepared for how I would feel seeing her in my clothes. The tunic hung to her knees, and the collar was low, dipping between her breasts. I tried not to stare, but she noticed, because she gripped the front closed.
I cleared my throat and willed my cock to settle down, but my mind was already running wild with fantasies of how it would feel to have her legs wrapped tight around my waist while I buried myself deep inside her.
That was what I wanted, and that was what I would never have, which was why breaking this curse was so important.
"What happened to you?" she whispered.
Now I understood her expression a little better—she was alarmed by the scars on my body. I had a few lashes across my back, one of which curled around my shoulder to my chest.
"I was struck with a whip by a dullahan," I said, though a little reluctant to approach this subject.
"A dullahan?"
"It is a type of hobgoblin. They are nasty spirits who desire the taste of blood, but only from headless victims."
"And you encountered one?"
"I have encountered many," he said.
"Are there a lot here in the Enchanted Forest?" she asked.
I realized my mistake, and I did not want her to be afraid.
"Not really. I went looking for them," I said.
"Why would you go in search of a dullahan?"
I was quiet because the answer was…her. I went in search of them because the only time I never thought of her was when I was fighting for my life.
"Lore?"
"I'll take that," I said, changing the subject and reaching for her dress.
Once it was hung, I opened the satchel and pulled out the only dry blanket we had and handed it to Samara. She took it and slipped it around her shoulders.
"If you sit near the stove, your hair will dry faster," I said.
She shifted closer as I sorted through the food I'd stolen from Cardic's pantry—dried meats, fruit, and bread. I organized everything on top of the satchel so Samara could graze.
When I was finished, I sat with my back against the wall and bit into a hard roll. I tried not to look at her, but it was difficult. My eyes drifted to her constantly. When she caught me staring, I looked away.
"Why do you not want to be in love?" she asked.
I clenched my jaw. My chest felt tight as I took a breath.
"I would not mind it if it was returned," I said.
She said nothing.
"Did you love the prince?" I asked.
"No," she said. "I had only just met him."
"But you agreed to marry him?"
"I agreed to leave with him and go to his kingdom," she said. "He told me he would give me time to fall in love with him, but once we were in the carriage, he said we were to be married once we arrived."
There was a part of me that was glad the thieves had stopped the carriage and a part of me that knew I wasn't being fair. I could not expect Samara to never fall in love. I could not expect her to never marry.
"So he lied," I said.
She nodded. "He said his brother had not returned from the Enchanted Forest, and he would have to leave to search for him. He was also looking for golden apples. It seems you are not the only one who desires to make a wish."
I was not surprised to hear it. I didn't think there was a person alive who did not want their greatest wish granted.
"What would you wish for?" I asked. "If you could do so without consequence?"
She shifted, drawing her knees to her chest. She looked so small and so frail, but I knew she was strong and unshakable.
"I would wish that no harm would ever come to Mouse and Rooster again."
"Mouse and Rooster?" I asked.
"Mouse is my cat, and Rooster is my stallion," she said. "My brothers are terrible to them just as they are to me."
It did not surprise me that she would think of others before herself.
"And what would you want for yourself?"
"I used to think that I wanted to be loved," she said. "But now I think that maybe love cannot exist without pain, and I have had enough of that."
"I don't think that is true," I said.
"If it isn't, then why are you wishing it away?" she asked.
I had no answer, and after a few quiet seconds, I cleared my throat. "You should get some rest. I am sorry I cannot give you a more comfortable place to sleep."
"It's all right," she replied. "I am used to the floor."
She folded the blanket in half and lay down.
I wrapped the food and put it aside so I could roll up the cloth satchel.
"Here," I said, sliding it under her head to use as a pillow.
"Thank you," she said.
Our eyes met and held for a few quiet moments. I wanted to kiss her so badly, the desire tightened my whole body, but I knew after what had occurred between us at the river that I would never have the chance to touch her again.
"Get some sleep," I said instead, returning to my place against the wall but I did not sleep.
* * *
The next morning, the rain continued to come down in icy sheets and I let Samara sleep.
"Are you sure, prince?" asked Fox. "Staying will set us back another day."
"Do you want to venture out in this?" I asked. "As I recall, you could barely walk, your coat so weighed down with ice."
"I have no desire," said the fox as he circled his spot before laying down again.
It was a while before Samara rose and when she did, she sat up fast. I thought she might run, but her eyes darted around the small room until they found mine.
"Bad dream?" I asked.
She swallowed, shaking her head. "No, I…thought you left without me."
I was taken aback by her admission.
"That sounds like a bad dream to me," I said.
She frowned and then rubbed her eyes before speaking again.
"What time is it?"
"I believe it is well past noon," I said.
Her eyes widened. "Noon? Why didn't you wake me?"
She threw off her blanket and rose to her feet.
"If we were leaving today, I would have," I said. "But the weather has not changed, so I thought it best that you rest."
"Oh," she said. "But then you will only have—"
"Three days," I said. "I am aware but the journey is pointless if you die from the cold."
She settled again, taking her place in front of the fire, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.
"Thank you," she said.
The word set my teeth on edge, not because I didn't appreciate hearing it, but because choosing to stay was no grand act of kindness. It was required if we were going to have any chance at reaching the wishing tree.
"How did you sleep?" she asked.
I smiled a little. "I didn't."
She blushed, and I knew she was thinking of our conversation at the river.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"You are sorry for so many things and none of them are your doing," I said.
She dropped her gaze from mine, holding the blanket tighter.
"I suppose I am used to being blamed," she said.
"I am not blaming you," I said.
We were quiet after that, and Samara laid down again.
When I was certain she was asleep, I pulled off my gloves and then my prosthetic. It had been carved by dryads and given the illusion of realness by the blue fairy, but even with magic, it still made my limb hurt and sweat. A wave of relief I could not describe came over me as I removed the cloth layers I used to cushion my limb. It had hurt since yesterday, worse than usual because of the weather but I hadn't wanted to take my hand off earlier, too afraid I might fall asleep without it.
I sat, staring down at it, remembering the horror of losing it.
Nothing had prepared me. It had been there one day and was gone the next. I was initially shocked. The more I struggled with things that had once been simple—like using a knife to spread butter on bread or unsheathing my sword—the angrier I became, particularly because I could still feel my hand and all five fingers. At first, I tried desperately to keep it a secret, especially from my brothers, but in the end, they did not care that I lost my hand. They cared more about how, and the truth amused my brothers to no end.
I could handle that.
I could handle learning to live differently within my world. I could handle everything taking longer. It was the pain that made it hard, and it worsened throughout the day. It was like holding my fingers near a fire, drawing closer and closer until they were consumed, except it was all in my head, because I had no hand.
Even now, I kept my jaw tight as wave after wave of pain coursed down my arm, straight to the tips of my nonexistent fingers. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, resting my head against the hard wall of the lean-to.
I don't know exactly what woke me, but when I opened my eyes, it was to Samara. For a brief second, I thought perhaps I was still dreaming, except that in my dreams, she never stared at me like this—her eyes wide with shock, her mouth parted as if she wanted to speak but had found no words.
Then I realized she was holding my hand, and that look on her face meant she knew exactly who I was.
"Samara," I said, sitting up. Inside, I felt frantic to explain myself.
"It's you," she said, dropping my hand and taking a step back. "You are the one who gave me the knife. I…I don't understand."
"Samara—"
She shook her head. "Why is it you?"
"Why not me?" I asked, though I didn't exactly know why. She had every right to ask, though in some ways, I felt defensive.
"Because you left!" she said, her eyes burning with anger and hurt. "You left seven years ago!"
I was surprised by her words, given she had cut my hand off.
"I never left ," I said.
"You're lying, and if you're not, then I hate you," she said. "Where were you when I needed you? When I wanted you?"
Wanted me? When had she wanted me?
"I tried to help you," I said, rising to my feet. "Why do you think I gave you the knife?"
"You mean the knife that ruined my life?" she snapped.
" Your life?" A hot wave of anger erupted inside me, and I held up my arm to show her my hand was no longer there. "What about my life?"
She paled and averted her eyes before turning her back to me. I couldn't decide what her reaction meant. Was she ashamed, or did she find me repulsive? Though I abandoned that line of thinking quickly when she started to take off the tunic I had lent her for the night.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, though it was mostly because I was flustered, both because she was about to abandon me and because she was naked. She had undressed with little hesitancy, exposing her entire body to my starved eyes.
When I had first looked upon her, I'd never seen anyone so beautiful, and that remained true now, though it seemed wrong to be aroused in the middle of this fight. I tried hard to stay focused on her face, but my gaze slipped, especially when she turned around to throw my tunic at me. I caught it and dropped it on the floor.
It was the least interesting thing in this room.
"I am leaving," she said, turning to pick up her gown.
I drew nearer. She was like a flame, and the closer I got, the hotter I burned. I also didn't want to scare her.
"Samara," I said, hoping my voice sounded calm and quiet. "Look at me."
She froze. I didn't think she would listen, but maybe she was inclined because she felt vulnerable, cornered and naked before me.
That was not what I wanted, but I did want her to listen.
She straightened and looked up at me. I was so close to her, I could feel her breasts brush my chest as she breathed. It was sweet torture.
This will be my punishment when I die , I thought.
Or maybe it would be looking down into this beautiful face and seeing her eyes glistening with hurt.
"You left me," she said, and despite the threat of tears in her eyes, she spoke between gritted teeth.
"I thought that was what you wanted," I said. "You cut my fucking hand off!"
"Well, I didn't, you fucking idiot," she said. "Jackal held my hand around the knife. It was he who took your hand and ruined your life."
I straightened, and she took a step back. "You think losing my hand ruined my life?"
She blinked, obviously feeling like that was the worst thing that could have happened to me.
"I could have borne losing my hand far easier if it wasn't for you," I said, inching toward her until she could go no farther, her back pressed into the wall, though she didn't look afraid. She looked angry. "You. You have stolen everything. I have had no peace since I looked upon your face. You haunt my every step. You linger in my dreams. I can do nothing without thinking about you, yet you say I have ruined your life!"
"I loved you!" she seethed, rising onto the tips of her toes. "I loved you, and you left me!"
For a few quiet seconds, I couldn't move or breathe. Her words had stunned me.
"You loved me?" I asked. I could not believe it. I needed her to say it again, but she didn't speak.
I shifted closer, though we hardly had any space.
"Do you still?" I asked. I was on the verge of panic.
"You were the only thing I had to look forward to," she said, her voice trembling.
"That isn't what I asked," I said, frustrated. "Do you still love me?"
The first tear trailed down her cheek, then another. I took her face between my hand and limb, brushing them away.
"I want to hate you," she whispered, her voice thick.
" Do you love me ?" I asked again.
I recognized it was selfish of me to demand a confession from her given the reason we were together, but I needed to know. I had to know.
She stared at me. There was so much between us—anger and frustration but also a deep and unyielding desire. I fought it now, on the very edge of breaking.
"Yes," she whispered, another stray tear sliding down her face. "I never stopped."
I kissed her.
I had dreamed of this moment for seven long years, and it had finally come. Everything inside me that had wound so tight suddenly unraveled. It was like a release of its own, heady and thrilling. It only deepened my desire.
I let my hand tighten in her hair as I bent over her, exploring her soft skin with the blunt end of my wrist. She did not seem to mind as I made a slow descent from her neck to her chest, to the swell of her breasts and the hard peaks of her nipples. She gasped, and it made my cock harder. I let my tongue ghost across her lips, teasing and testing, and when she did the same, I slipped into her mouth, groaning at the feel and taste of her.
She was exquisite.
I left her mouth to kiss along her jaw and down her throat to her breast. Her hands moved to my head, and I teased her nipple with my tongue and sucked it into my mouth. She let her head fall back against the wall as she inhaled sharply, whispering my name on an exhale.
Her fingers were so tightly woven into my hair, my scalp burned, but I didn't care. I would let her hold me like this forever if this was what I got in return.
I moved to her other breast, aware that she was moving beneath me, widening her stance. It was an invitation I took, letting my hand graze down her body to the back of her knee. I hiked her leg over my hip and then ground into her. The friction numbed my mind and set my entire body on fire.
I choked on a moan.
Fuck. I was so desperate to come it was embarrassing, but I had waited so long for this—for her.
I wasn't sure I could handle much more.
But then, the fox cleared his throat. The intrusion wouldn't have bothered me, though, if it wasn't for Samara, who froze instantly at the sound.
"If you two are going to fuck," he said, "at least wait until I am asleep."
I could have fucking killed him.
I probably would after our journey was done, except that now that he had broken through my haze, I was reminded of why Samara and I were together at all, and suddenly, I was consumed by guilt. How could I want this when I knew that I was cursed to love this woman?
I pulled away and met her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were swollen. I liked the look, and I liked more that I was responsible, even though I shouldn't.
"You should rest."
She tilted her head a little, raising a dark brow.
"You want me to rest when we have just found each other again?"
Found each other.
She said it as if she'd been searching for me this entire time, which had never occurred to me until now. My chest tightened at the thought, and I leaned forward to kiss her again before taking her hand and leading her to where she'd fallen asleep earlier before the stove.
On the way, I picked up my tunic and handed it to her.
"I'm not opposed to having you remain naked," I said, glancing at the fox, who was curled into a ball facing away from us. "But you might be more comfortable if you wear this."
I retrieved the blanket, a little disappointed when she decided to slip into the long shirt, even though I was the one who suggested it. Still, there was something so fucking beautiful about the way she looked in my clothes. It made me feel like she really was mine.
"Would you like me to spread the blanket?" she asked, her voice quiet.
I wondered if she was asking because I only had one hand or because I had been staring at her.
"I can do it," I said, shaking it out before letting it rest on the ground. I walked around to pull it flat. "I can do most things. Sometimes it just takes a little more time."
"I didn't mean to suggest—"
"I know," I said quickly. I met her gaze and held out my hand. She took it, and I helped her sit, though she didn't need it. She drew her knees to her chest, hugging them close. It felt like a barrier, and I wondered if she felt shy now and a little afraid of what the rest of the night might bring.
I knelt before her.
"You have never…lain with another before?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"We do not have to do anything," I said. "I would be content to hold you until morning."
That was the most honorable thing I could do—the most right considering our circumstances.
"Maybe that is where we start," she said.
I nodded and then stretched out on my back while she lay on her side. Her head was on my chest, her hand on my stomach. If she grew bold and started to explore, she would find that I was aroused, my cock hard and heavy against my stomach. I doubted that would change between now and morning—or for the rest of this trip.
She was still to start, but then her fingers began to trace the faint scars on my skin.
"You never said why you went in search of the dullahan," she said.
I never said it because I dreaded telling her, but in this moment, I felt like a liar, so I told her the truth.
"I sought them out because I thought I could forget you."
She was quiet, her fingers slowly stopping their soft caress. I missed it.
"Am I so horrible to think about?" she asked.
"I wasn't trying to forget you because you were horrible," I said. "You are all I have thought about for the last seven years. I could not figure out where I went wrong, how I had managed to make you hate me so much that you would use my own knife against me. I thought it was part of the curse."
"I never hated you," she whispered.
I could tell she was close to crying again.
"My brothers grew suspicious, thinking my work seemed too easy, and followed me. They saw you give me the knife. They confronted me at the moor and forced me to give it to them. If I had known what Jackal intended…"
"I should have known it was nothing you were capable of," I said. "At the time, it made sense. I did not think anyone was capable of loving me."
She was quiet, but then she shifted onto her elbow and looked down at me.
"This cannot be real," she said. "I must have stumbled into a fairy ring when I ran from the carriage in the woods."
It was strange to hear her say what I was thinking.
"I can assure you, beloved, this is all very real," I said. I held her face in one hand, caressing her cheek. "The fae are too restless to maintain an illusion this long."
"Every day after you left was unbearable," she said.
"I shared in your misery," I said, brushing a stray piece of her hair behind her ear.
"I wish—"
She stopped short of speaking aloud, and I offered her a small smile.
"There is no undoing what has been done," I said. "I think all there is to do now is to forgive ourselves for what we did not know."
She shifted closer, her lips brushing over mine.
I held my breath to hold myself back. If anything more happened, I wanted her to lead. Then she slid her leg over my torso as she kissed me, and when she sat back, her heat settled over my sex. It felt glorious, even though I was clothed.
She froze, looking down at me, her hands on my chest. I rested mine under her knees.
"I have never done this before," she said. "But I feel like my body knows what to do."
"And what is that?" I asked.
We did not look away from each other as she moved, gliding over my cock. I tightened my hold on her, my hips rising, but she paused.
"Is this okay?" she whispered.
I swallowed hard. Of course it was fucking okay, I wanted to say, but all I managed was a nod.
She moved again, a slow pull forward and back.
It was the way she breathed that ignited me. The small gasp that came from somewhere deep in her throat. I tightened my grip under her knees and helped her move.
"Do you mind?" I asked.
Her eyes were dark and glittering as she shook her head, "No."
"Kiss me," I said.
She did as I commanded, and when our lips collided, I kissed her harder than before. We moved together, her hips grinding hard into mine. If I had been in control, I would have stopped to undress so I could feel her wet heat surrounding me, but there was too much momentum around what we were doing, and now all I wanted was to feel the pressure building at the base of my cock erupt.
"Have you ever come?" I asked.
I didn't know what she might have done alone in the dark, and I was curious.
"I…I don't know," she said, breathless.
"Do you touch yourself?" I asked.
"Yes."
Fuck . The bottom of my stomach tightened with her answer.
"Take off my tunic," I said.
She hesitated only a moment but did as I commanded.
"Fucking glorious," I said, squeezing one breast. My other arm remained behind her knee. "Now show me how you touch yourself."
Her fingers trailed to the curls between her thighs, but she stopped short of teasing herself. I wanted to put her on her back and suck her clit into my mouth, but I wasn't sure she was ready for something so forward.
"Kiss me again," I said instead, and when she bent down, I shifted my hands to her ass, gripping her as tight as I could, moving her over my cock. I felt her clit brush across the bottom of my stomach, and a delicious moan came from her mouth. The pleasure overwhelmed any reservations she might have had as she took the lead.
I watched her, awed by the beauty of this moment.
"Yes," I whispered, because the harder she chased her release, the faster she moved.
I lifted my hips higher and higher, ready to unwind.
The explosion hit like a physical blow. It was almost painful, the way my body tightened as it prepared to release another wave of pleasure.
When it was done, I opened my eyes and relaxed my jaw to find Samara staring down at me. I didn't know what to make of her expression. She looked flushed, and her eyes were glassy. Had she come? I was about to ask, but she spoke.
"Are you okay?"
I grinned. "I am more than okay," I said. "But how are you, beloved?"
"I am perfect," she whispered as she lay down beside me with her head on my chest.
In the quiet that followed, every rapturous feeling slowly left my body, replaced by guilt. I had let things go too far between us. It did not matter that she loved me or that my feelings for her over the last seven years felt real. The truth was my love for her was nothing more than a curse.