What she got instead was the taste of stale library dust, cold ozone, and the distinct, incredibly jarring sensation of biting into a pressurized balloon filled with dusty air.
And then, the eclair screamed.
It did not squeak or giggle. The strawberry pastry let out a booming, masculine shriek of pants-wetting terror.
"AAAAAAAGGGGHHH! GREAT HEAVENS! MY ECTOPLASM! SHE IS CONSUMING MY ECTOPLASM!"
WHOOSH.
The sugary, graham-cracker dreamscape collapsed. The molten chocolate river vanished. The fairy-winged cookies popped like soap bubbles.
Seraphina was violently jolted back into reality.
Her dark eyes snapped open.
She was not in a magical dessert wasteland. She was in the massive, plush, four-poster bed in the guest suite of the Obsidian Gate.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the dying, red embers in the volcanic hearth. The heavy, silk duvet Kaelus had so meticulously tucked around her was kicked off to the side.
And she was currently clinging to a grown man.
