Nola’s heart rate spiked. She didn’t know why she felt like she had to get to Russia, just because a dream man commanded it; she only knew the need never faded, only ever grew.

So badly, she wanted to discuss the golden god with Vale. But, whenever she tried, something odd happened. The words died on her tongue—literally!—and she experienced selective mutism.

An internal warning? Maybe. Or maybe it was some sort of undiagnosed mental disorder. Either way, the golden god’s nocturnal existence remained a secret, a sense of urgency growing. Hurry! Must get there.

Tomorrow, no matter how bad she felt, she would board the plane and hide her pain; Vale would never know, would never suggest they put their plans on hold until she felt better.

Bottom line: nothing would stop Nola. She’d scrimped, scraped and saved every extra penny, forgoing college while working two jobs, even when pain and fatigue plagued her.

For job number one, she sold baked goods to employees around town. For job two, she wrote a how-to column, dishing out romantic advice for Oklahoma Love Match. Oh, the irony.

Crap! “I forgot to write this week’s article.”

“Chuck it in the fuck it bucket,” Vale called. “The time for work is over, and the time for play has come.”

If only she could chuck it. “I promised my boss I wouldn’t leave him high and dry, so I’ve got to draft something up.” Call her old-fashioned, but Nola believed your word was your bond. When she made a promise, she kept it, always.

“What’s this one about?”

“How to win any man you desire.” Her boss always picked the subject matter, and Nola usually had fun researching the answer.

“Two words—get naked. There. Done.” Vale peeked her head from the doorway. “Does that mean I get 50 percent of the profits?”

A laugh slipped from her. “Sorry, but the electric company gets 100 percent of the profits.”

“Boo. Hiss.”

“Ready for another meme from the queen?” she asked her sister. “How do you make millions as a writer of articles? You start off as a billionaire.”

Vale howled with amusement.

—I need you, princess. You know where I am. Come find me.—

Nola gulped. The daytime delusion had just doubled down and jacked up the volume. Which meant the need to reach Russia jacked up, as well.

She wondered...what if her golden god was actually real?

What, like some gorgeous blond guy had the ability to speak telepathically? No. Not possible. Would she make the trip and search for him, anyway, just in case? Yes. Except, a new fear took root.

Would she have anything else to live for when she returned?