Shadow Kissed 03 - Shadowman

fantasy, and the accompanying yearning was mixing her up. Again.
    â€œWell cut it out.” Her feelings were her own. “All these superpowers are going to give me a nervous breakdown. And by the way, I happen to prefer my isolation.”
    He lifted a brow, not mocking exactly, but telling her he knew better. “Emotion penetrates Shadow, so I sense the truth. And if you don’t want me in your dreams, shut me out. You have the power.”
    Emotion penetrates . . . ? Well then he had to know she was irritated. “I just say, ‘Go away’?”
    â€œThat will do.”
    â€œThen—” She stopped herself. She’d have made a definitive statement blocking him, but the Joyce nightmare had haunted her for years. The possibility of a good home. The encroaching dark ones. The blood. She just couldn’t shut him out.
    Layla was shaking again. Better to change the subject.
    She floundered to gather her thoughts, then focused on what was right in front of her. “Is the painting under a spell? Or is it another way to your world?”
    â€œYou know about my world?” His gaze went very, very serious. And not a little scary.
    Layla squared her shoulders. “Talia told me. She said that you were fae and that your kind exists in the Shadowlands, a world between mortality and the Hereafter.”
    His gaze grew darker still. “Is that all she said?”
    â€œYes,” she lied. It was also much better to stay away from volatile subjects, like the suggestion that she and Khan had been something to each other. “Now about the wraiths—”
    â€œLayla.” Khan’s voice lowered. “What did she say?”
    She winced. Okay, fine. Might as well get it over with. They had to reach an understanding about this, too, if she was going to get any work done. “She said that, um, you and I . . .”
    The tension in his eyes relaxed. Then the man smiled, big and dangerous. “Yes. You and I. Exactly.”
    Something about the way he spoke sent a fever burn over her skin. Had to be exhaustion, or she wouldn’t be reacting so strongly.
    â€œWe were bound together with those words,” he went on.
    Layla choked. “Like married?”
    â€œThat’s right. You’re mine.”
    No, no, no. The closest she had come to marriage had been Ty, and she’d known from the beginning that it wasn’t right. She went to fidget with the band of her engagement ring, but it wasn’t there. Just that white stripe of skin. “I’m not married.”
    â€œWhat passed between us might be lost to your memory, but nonetheless, I swear we came together, made vows in our own way, and created a life . ”
    She shook her head. No. Although, if she was going to be honest with herself, her body had been remembering from the first moment he had her pressed up against that awful gate. And Talia had confirmed as much last night.
    â€œA life?”
    Something clicked in her mind. Talia had said, Welcome to the family . Layla had thought that Talia was being kind, putting her at ease. Was there more to it than that?
    If so, Layla didn’t want it. All her life family had been a dirty word, an empty promise. A joke. She was all grown up now and still hadn’t been able to find her way into one.
    Cold anger replaced disbelief. She was so stupid. How had she let herself be conned? All the weird shit yesterday, then Talia’s compelling explanation. Now she was related? No. Suggesting it was cruel and twisted. Take an orphan and pretend she’s long-lost family, except some upside-down creation where the lost one was the mother? Come on. She wasn’t falling for it. What were they trying to do?
    Manipulate her and her story. Had to be.
    From inside the painting, Khan reached her way. A current of Shadow emerged from the canvas, rippled through the air like a smoky arm, to stroke her cheek.
    She reeled back.
    â€œBelieve it,” he said.
    Of all things, she thought of the gate. If she listened hard enough, she could still hear its rattle, kat-a-kat, calling her. She had placed her hand on the lever. And then Khan was there, looking at her with such terrible joy and yearning. He’d known her. Had asked her how she’d found him. He’d called her . . .
    â€œKathleen.” Layla’s heart tripped. “You think I’m Kathleen.”
    And when she’d recoiled from him and explained who she was and why she was