I tried to scream but I only sucked in water. I thrashed against Duncan – or the creature that had taken his face – but he only tightened his hold on me and pushed himself deeper inside me. Deeper than any man could go. The thing that was inside me wasn’t a man. It had a life of its own, snaking deep into my womb, and to my horror and dismay I was still rocking against it, even as I struggled to get free, even as I knew I was drowning, I was still arching my hips again and again, meeting each thrust with a thrust of my own and finally, with a last push I felt my limbs – and his – loosening in an orgasm that released shockwaves through the water …

… and brought me up into the air, gasping, clutching the rim of my tub, in my bathroom.

“What the hell?” I cried out in the echoing, tiled room. But I was alone. The floor was soaked with water, and the porcelain insides of the tub, when I ran my hand along them, were coated with gold glitter.

The worst thing, I decided after rubbing my skin raw with towels and drinking three cups of hot tea to get warm, was that it had been Duncan’s face in my drowning-by-sex dream. Because clearly there were only two reasons why it had been his face. Either I was sexually attracted to him or he was trying to hurt me. I wasn’t sure which suspicion was more disturbing. I knew I should have been more disturbed by the thought that I’d imagined my tutor trying to drown me, but it actually bothered me more to think that I was attracted to him. Sure, he was handsome, but I’d just made love to Liam three days ago. How could I be attracted to someone else so soon? Even if I didn’t love Liam, he’d saved my life twice in Faerie. It seemed fickle – if not downright slutty – to be having dreams about Duncan after knowing him for less than twenty-four hours. Besides, I wasn’t sure I was attracted to him. I’d flinched when he’d touched me last night.

By the time Duncan knocked at my door, I was hopped up on caffeine and my skin was pink from the two extra showers I’d taken (I wouldn’t be taking any baths for a while). I was wearing jeans, a black turtleneck and a sweater, and I still felt cold. When I opened the door, though, and saw him – dressed in a body-hugging black t-shirt and black jeans, the last evening light glancing off his high cheekbones and turning his blue eyes to aquamarine – I felt a surge of electrical sizzle inside. It must be the attraction thing, I realized with dismay. Seeing someone who had tried to drown me wouldn’t make me go all warm and fuzzy.