Worse things could have come from the Fae King's–Lorcan's–lips. Like he planned to off me... though, that made me giggle because he'd certainly planned to get me off or at least try to before his sister walked in. Kill me would be a better phrase. I nodded to myself, only stopping when I caught both of them staring at me.

"That wasn't a nod of agreement," I explained, to make sure no one got the wrong impression.

As much as I loved losing myself in fantasy novels, this wasn't living up to the hype those stories created, and as handsome and delicious as Lorcan was, I had no intention of marrying him. But then–I pushed a finger into the slope just above my nose to stave off a headache. This wasn't actually happening. I was still asleep. Probably in the park.

Niamh tilted her head to the side, exposing the pointed tip of her ear. When she spoke again, it was directed at me, and there was a sweetness in her crystalline voice that hadn't been there when she spoke to her brother.

"If he took you without your permission, let it be known, and we will get you home."

Lorcan raised his head from his arm and lifted that damn eyebrow again. As if he dared me to lie. Was it jealousy? Wasn't it a rule that Fae couldn't lie, or was that only in some stories? Either way, just because I could lie didn't mean I did.

"I asked him to take me. Well, not him specifically. A Fae King. Any Fae King, really."

"See, Niamh. There you have it. She asked me to marry her and to carry my future offspring." He threw his long legs over the side and stood, flipping out his cape so it rose and fell behind him like a bridal veil. "I'm honestly offended by what you're implying. Not to mention it would be impossible for me to take her against her will, wouldn't it?"

Niamh did not cower before her brother. Not even when he stopped in front of her, his booted toes touching her silk wrapped ones. "If anyone could figure out how to defy the laws of the Coire, it would be you."

"A rare compliment, then?"

"Not at all," she replied, stepping around him and holding her hand out to me. "Come with me. Let's get you out of that soiled gown and into something more appropriate."

"What's wrong with this dress?" I asked, tugging on the straps to lift the neckline and hide the edges of my bra, which of course resulted in an overcorrection that drew the hem to the middle of my thighs.

In any other situation, I wouldn't have been concerned–I owned shorts shorter than this–but Lorcan had specifically mentioned how much he enjoyed my legs, and from the heightened interest in his expression, I felt he might be keen to revisit our moment on the bed. Sister or no sister present.

Niamh pressed her full lips together and clasped her hands in front of her. "I only meant we could find you something that might make you feel more at ease here. Perhaps something that blends in."

I examined her gown, imagining wearing something similar, and had to squelch a pang of longing. Most women never got to wear something so lovely except on their wedding day, but I needed to wake up before someone found me in that park and thought I was dead. I'd end up in jail for being a vagrant, and even worse, the story would likely be on the news. It might be the worst way to start a new decade that I'd ever heard or dreamed of.

"Look." I smoothed my hand over my gown and tried to muster up an ounce of dignity so they might take me seriously. Because that made complete sense. Wanting the figments of my imagination to take me seriously. "I appreciate your offer, but what I really need is to go home."

Niamh's gentle expression didn't change. "We will get you home, but unfortunately, we can only travel to your realm during a full moon. That was yesterday."

"A month!" I shrieked, swaying a bit. "You expect me to stay here for a month?"

Lorcan moved faster than my senses could process. One second, he stood next to his sister. The next by me. He took my hands in his and looked at me with pleading eyes.

"I'm certain I've come on too strong, but I know no other way to be. It has been centuries since a woman has called to me the way you have–" Something suspiciously sounding like a snort came from behind Lorcan, but when I peeked over his shoulder, Niamh stared at the floor, hair falling around her slender face.

"I'm very flattered," I said while doing my very best to take shallow breaths so as to not be overwhelmed by whatever pheromones this man exuded. "But I was drunk last night. I have a home. A family..."

I was lying. Not about being drunk, but about the home and the family. I had an apartment and Jones, who, as much as we loved one another, didn't make spending time outside of special occasions a priority. I didn't even have a pet waiting for me. If I died in that park, my funeral would be very poorly attended.

Lorcan, the clever thing, read between the lines and pounced. "Thirty days. It's all I'm asking. I will win your heart, or I will take you home."

His earnest tone weakened me. With a half smile, I replied, "Do I really have a choice?"