Shadow Kissed 03 - Shadowman

Kathleen had loathed it.
    Then where? What could possibly reach her? He’d have to work quickly. Too long in Shadow and a mortal would go mad.
    He cast his gaze down. Kathleen’s head was tilted to the side, her lips were slightly parted, and her eyelids fluttered as she dreamed. The wavy swath of her hair gleamed gold in Twilight. Her hips were turned, narrowing her waist and accentuating the swell of her breasts. She was Sleeping Beauty all over again.
    And then he knew. Kathleen’s fantasy when she was a girl. He’d start there, where he’d been her hero.
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    Layla woke in fairyland. She raised a hand to her groggy head but stopped short when she saw the princess sleeve with pointed cuff of the—her gaze examined the rest of her attire—gaudy yellow princess dress she wore. There was a slight weight on the crown of her head, and she knew, given the atrocity of her getup, that it had to be a tiara. Or, hell, worse—one of those satin cones they sold at the Renaissance Fair, ribbons coming out of the tip.
    Obviously she was asleep and in the middle of a nightmare.
    Fact of the matter was she’d been working too hard. The signs had been there for a while. The events of the last few days only confirmed it. Her recent breakup hadn’t helped either. If she didn’t let up soon, she was going to have a nervous breakdown. Considering all the things she’d been seeing lately, maybe this was it.
    She struggled against the billows of fabric to stand on two feet. She didn’t know, but could guess, that she was wearing some sort of slippers completely unsuited to a dark and dense forest. Her waist was cinched tight with a wide ribbon, the bow blooming from her backside.
    Maybe when she was three she’d have enjoyed a dress like this, all princess and fairy tales. But not for long. Weak damsels in distress that lay around waiting to be saved made her want to scream. She hated feeling weak. Helpless.
    â€œOkay, Layla, wake up,” she said aloud to herself.
    She scanned the area but saw only crowding trees and darkness. The trees were weirdly familiar, as if she’d seen them all her life, but couldn’t place where. Among them, like an ashen vampire, tall, narrow, and wrapped in a cloak, was the blacksmith from the warehouse. At least, the tortured gaze was the same, resting heavy and soulful on her. Shadows still concealed the rest, but somehow she could guess that his body would be dreamworthy. All that physical labor at the fire, pounding metal day in, day out. Yes, very nice.
    She ached with a beat of need, as if part of her were already leaning toward him, but she held herself back. She didn’t have that easy, warm-comfy feeling of bed. She couldn’t recall making it home from the warehouse, much less outside the building to her car. The dream, like the dress, felt like a trap. She’d learned a long time ago to trust her instincts.
    â€œWakey, wakey,” she sang, eyeing the blacksmith while denying the coil winding tight in her pelvis.
    â€œYou don’t remember.” The man sounded like he was in pain.
    No, so tell me. “Remember what?”
    â€œAnything. Your life as Kathleen.”
    Kathleen again. This was a nightmare. “For the last time, I’m not Kathleen. I’m Layla Mathews. Lay-la .” She exaggerated that last bit with her mouth. How could she want a man who didn’t even know her name?
    â€œLay-la.” His rough, wounded delivery made her wonder about this Kathleen chick. The woman had obviously broken his heart.
    â€œListen—”
    â€œNo.” He swiped the air with his hand. “I was mistaken. This is not the way to reach you.”
    Now they were getting somewhere. Layla sighed relief.
    â€œWe will just have to begin again,” he said, and darkness inundated her vision.
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    Shadowman patted Layla’s cheek to wake her. Layla, not Kathleen. Layla. The name was made of tip-of-the-tongue sounds, rather than the throat pull of his beloved. So different. How could she be different?
    He closed his eyes and drew what strength he could from the earthbound shadows. The gate had cost him much. Reforming his body had cost him more. Holding it for any length of time would be very, very difficult.
    â€œCome now,” he said. “Wake.” He’d crouched near Layla’s fallen form and gently lifted her shirt to bare her skin and the white undergarment