But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wasn’t in control. Kalona was. He’d built this dream, this dark, nightmare meadow, and somehow brought me there, closing the door to reality behind us.

“What do you want?” I said the words quickly so he couldn’t hear my voice shaking.

“You know what I want, my love. I want you.”

“I am not your love.”

“Of course you are.” He moved this time, stepping so close to me that I could feel the chill that came from his unsubstantial body. “My A-ya.”

A-ya had been the name of the maiden the Cherokee Wise Women had created to trap him centuries ago. Panic spiked through me. “I’m not A-ya!”

“You command the elements,” his voice was a caress, awful and wonderful, compelling and terrifying.

“Gifts from my Goddess,” I said.

“Once before you commanded the elements. You were made from them. Fashioned to love me.” His massive dark wings stirred and lifted. Beating forward softly, they enfolded me in a spectral embrace that was cold as frost.

“No! You must have me mixed up with someone else. I’m not A-ya.”

“You’re wrong, my love. I feel her within you.”

His wings pressed against my body, drawing me closer to him. Even though his physical form was only semi-substantial, I could feel him. His wings were soft. Winter cold against the warmth of my dreaming self. The outline of his body was frigid mist. It burned my skin, sending electric currents through me, heating me with a desire I didn’t want to feel but was powerless to resist.

His laugh was seductive. I wanted to drown in it. I leaned forward, closing my eyes and gasping aloud as the chill of his spirit brushed against my breasts, sending shooting sensations that were painful but deliciously erotic to places in my body that made me feel out of control.