Worlds Apart

Chapter 8

I don't know how long I'm trapped in my luxurious cell. Outside the window, the sun never sets.

My dreams return. But this time, they're vivid. Each one is a different version of events. I'm fighting against creatures I've never seen before; flames pour from my hands; I'm crouched over a werewolf with pained eyes.

I see myself in every single one of them.

I have no visitors. No one brings me food.

And I have no idea how long I'm forced to endure the unbearable thirst before Ailbhe appears, and I find myself back in a chamber, under the The Oberon's glare.

"Ah. Our prophecied hero."

I keep my gaze locked on my reflection in their beady eyes, refusing to back down. Refusing to show weakness.

"The same one." The Oberon's whispered musings float through me as they walk to stand behind me.

This, I hate. Any control I was grasping at is lost.

Their fingernails scrape down the skin of my arms, sending a shiver through my body.

"What does that mean?" I ask, refusing to give into the temptation I know The Oberon is trying to inflict on me. I can feel their presence behind me, close enough to feel their warmth as if they gave it off. Not like Hamish does with his natural werewolf heat.

At the thought of Hamish, my eyes droop, intoxicated by his proximity. I can still feel him on me. In me. I can feel him behind me, ready to claim me.

But he never came back. I force my eyes open and jerk forward, fighting against the snare on my ankles and the tricks in my mind. I stumble forward into the solid body that smells like soil and pine and-

I know this chest beneath my palms. I've dreamt of this chest so many times.

Hamish.

I run my hands up his darkened skin over his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles react to my touch. The way they did in the forest the last time I saw him. I slide them up his neck to feel the shape of his jaw as he rests his forehead against mine.

In desperate need to escape this place, I cling onto him. Needing him.

"Hamish." My voice is a breathy whisper as I stare into those blue eyes. But something is wrong. A flash of the souless black eyes that only belong to a faery fill my vision.

My body recoils, repulsed by whatever trick this is.

I shove against the body in front of me, and it falls backwards.

Rage pulses through me, and I shake my head, trying to remove the glamour that I know is there. The heat in my hands causes them to tremble.

And for a fleeting moment, I see past the beautiful tanned skin the fae is trying to portray. The scaled creature beneath with its pointed face and black eyes clutches at their chest. Whimpering at the dark burns that I left on its chest from my shove. Fear shining in their raw eyes.

It's gone in a flash, and I'm back to staring at the silver glamour intended for the world to see. It's not Hamish staring at me, but a stunning faerie. Their face is human with high cheekbones and full lips. Dark skin with the silver shimmer shining in the fake moonlight.

And it takes everything in me not to reach out and touch them. Just like Ailbhe, they're beautiful. Designed to lure in their prey. Designed to trick.

"The wolf?" The Oberon's voice sounds far away, and it takes tremendous effort to pull myself back to the present. "Thank you, Cian." At their words, the fae in front of me drops whatever hold they've got on me, and I'm free to move, to not obsess over their otherworldly beauty. "Tell me, child." The Oberon trails an index finger along the corner of my jaw. I jerk my face away from their feather light touch. "Do you mean as much to the wolf as he means to you?"