Cassandra never believed in magic-until she woke up with wings.
One moment, she's living her ordinary life in London. The next, she's stranded in a mysterious, ancient realm brimming with danger and beauty beyond imagination. As she grapples with he...
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Cassandra felt herself melting into the kiss, the tension she'd been holding onto unraveling as the haze of the dream deepened. Her mind, already struggling to differentiate reality from fantasy, surrendered to the moment. The warmth that had been simmering beneath her skin now flared into something hotter, something all-consuming.
He pulled back slightly, just enough for his breath to brush against her lips, his amber eyes searching hers. "You've been fighting this," he whispered, his voice low and thick with desire. "But I think you're done fighting now, aren't you?"
She couldn't find the words to respond. Her heart was hammering, her body thrumming with need, and the rational part of her—the part that still insisted this was all just a dream—had been silenced by the flood of sensation. The only thing that existed in that moment was him, the silver-haired man who had drawn her into this strange, surreal world.
Her hands, trembling slightly, reached for him, one resting against his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his coat, while the other gripped his arm, desperate for something to anchor her in the intensity of it all. She nodded, her breath shaky. "Yes," she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips before he closed the distance between them again.
His lips found hers once more, this time with more urgency, more heat. His hand on her neck slid down to her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she gasped at the sudden closeness, the press of his body against hers. The kiss deepened, and with it, the last vestiges of resistance inside her crumbled.
Her own desires surged to the surface, undeniable now, her hands gripping his coat as she kissed him back with a hunger that matched his. Every touch, every breath felt like it was setting her on fire, her body reacting to him in ways that made her head spin. The heat between them was overwhelming, intoxicating, and it was all she could do to keep herself grounded as the world around them seemed to fall away completely.
His hand slipped beneath the fabric of her dress, his fingers brushing her skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She gasped into his mouth, her head falling back against the wall as his lips moved to her neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. Her breathing grew more ragged, her body arching into him, desperate for more of his touch, more of the sensations that were driving her deeper into this dream.
"Are you sure?" he murmured against her neck, his voice low and teasing, as though he knew the answer already.
Cassandra's mind was too clouded by desire to respond with anything other than a soft, breathless, "Yes." It didn't matter anymore if this was a dream or something else entirely. The lines between reality and fantasy had blurred beyond recognition, and all that mattered in that moment was the way his hands felt on her skin, the way his body pressed against hers, the way he made her feel like she was on the edge of something she couldn't fully comprehend.
He didn't hesitate. His hands roamed lower, teasing the hem of her dress higher, and she could feel his breath grow more shallow, his control slipping just as hers had. The corridor, the walls, the very world around them seemed to pulse with the same rhythm, as though this place—this dream—was feeding off their connection, amplifying it, making every sensation more vivid, more real.
