ADELINE

I’m sitting in a huge room, on a dais made out of wood and gold with green vines interwoven and draped around the throne. A line of people wait to see me.

It warms my heart to have so many worshipers, and as each one approaches, I offer them a friendly smile. They leave gifts at my feet, anything from silver tankards to rich cloth to farm animals.

After I have greeted my followers, I step down from the dais and walk outside into the garden area. I love it out here. It’s so beautiful, with all the fresh and colorful flowers. Nature’s bounty.

Sitting on a marble bench with a waterfall cascading behind me, I spread out the shimmering gold skirt across my legs. A soft breeze flicks at my red locks, gently brushing them against my face.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” I hear a masculine voice say.

Looking up and up, I smile at the tall, raven-haired prince. He is one of the most handsome men I’ve seen in my life.

He looks and acts like he comes from nobility, and even though I don’t know his name, I feel as if I know him. And know him well.

“Well, I am here,” I say with a smile.

He walks toward me and kneels at my feet. Looking at me with deep brown eyes, he smiles, showing off straight, white teeth.

He grasps my hand in both of his and brings it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss in the center of my palm. His mouth moves, and his teeth graze my finger, bringing a gasp to my lips.

Slowly, his hands make their way up my arms, even as he raises from his knees and presses his lips to mine.

I sigh against his mouth as our lips meet and eloquently dance to the rhythm he sets. His hands climb higher, caressing my neck, running through my hair.

“My Lord?”

The romantic moment is broken when a male servant intrudes on us. My prince removes his hands from me before he slowly turns, blocking me from the servant’s curious gaze.

“The king is asking for your immediate presence.”

The prince looks like he’s about to refuse, but then he gives a stiff nod and peers at me with fire in his eyes.

“I’ll be back momentarily,” he says.

I watch him until he’s out of sight, then get up from the marble bench. Walking toward my chamber, I feel the need to catch my breath after that devastating kiss.

I’m in the covered walkway when a hand covers my mouth from behind. I try to scream, but no sound comes out.

When strong hands turn me around to face my attacker, I instantly relax, seeing the familiar gray eyes and red hair of my warrior.

“Hello, angel,” he says, then presses me against the wall.

“Hello, my warrior,” I respond with a sly smile.

He isn’t one for words, and an instant later, his lips are smashed against mine, our mouths caught in an duel of passion.

He’s so tall. Sometimes, I refer to him as my giant, but he’s all warrior. His body presses against mine as he wraps his arms around me and lift me so that our faces are level.

Passion envelops me, and I grab his hair and pull his mouth closer. I love his taste, his feel, and I want more. Always more.

A bell sounds in the distance, but I ignore it, lost in the kiss and this moment with my warrior.

But then another bell sounds, louder, joined by several more. The sound is jarring and insistent and we break apart, breathless—

***

I shoot up in bed, my breath coming in rapid gasps as I fumble for the cell phone on the nightstand and turn off my alarm.

My mind and heart are on fire. What the hell was that? Have I just had such a deeply romantic dream about two different men? Two unknown men. I’ve never seen either in real life, but then I guess that’s how dreams work.

Taking a quick shower, I try to put the dream out of my head.

I let the warm water cascade over me as I wash the night away. There’s no point focusing on dreams when I have work to do, and all the opportunity in the world to do it.

Once I’m dry and clothed, I grab my bag, eager to go on the hunt for good books in the castle’s great library.

One of the benefits of this scholarship is that I get to come a month earlier to get started on my research, and I can’t wait to see what kind of material is available on the Di’an and their goddess, The Di’an Dulaine.

The library is even bigger than I imagined, and I can’t wait to dig in and explore, so I head straight to the giant section on the history of Ireland, excitement burning through me.

To my surprise, I’m not the only one here this early in the morning. There are two other people already pulling books off the shelves and skimming through them. They both look up as I walk down the aisle and smile, which I return a bit shyly.

“Hi,” the woman says. “I’m Laurel Dune.” Her short blond hair bobs as she nods, and her blue eyes are friendly as she greets me.

“And I’m Donovan O’Shae,” the guy says. His smile is bright, and his hazel eyes regard me with open friendship. He’s got red hair like mine, but I suppose that’s more common here in Ireland.

“I’m Adeline Knight,” I respond.

“So, you must be here on the early scholarship, too.” Laurel gestures at herself and then Donovan. “Like us.”

I nod. “I’m studying the lost civilization known as the Di’an.”

Donovan’s eyes widen in appreciation. “You don’t say? I’m studying Irish mythology, and though I don’t know a lot about the Di’an, I have come across them in my studies.”

“Really?” I exclaim happily. Not many people have even heard of the ancient civilization, much less know anything about them. Turning to Laurel, I ask, “What about you?”

Laurel shakes her head, holding up a thick volume on Ireland’s history. “No mythology or folklore for me. I’m strictly about the history.”

“But mythology and folklore are part of Ireland’s history,” I argue. “A big part.”

“Oh, I know, and please don’t think I’m insulting you guys in any way. I’m just concentrating on a different aspect of history; more its beginnings and growth, and less its legends.”

As we discuss Ireland and our specific scholarship concentrations, I discover that we have a lot in common, and I start to really like these two. For once, maybe I won’t be the nerd of the school and may actually be one of the popular kids, instead.

It’s a heady feeling after being the weird one for most of my life.

We go to the cafeteria for lunch and continue sharing stories on history and lore, and I’m soaking up every ounce. It is so wonderful to be around other people who have the same interests as me, who don’t look at me as if I’m some kind of alien because I like studying ancient civilizations.

After lunch, I head toward the library again to check out a couple of books I noticed earlier. The three of us agree to meet up again, and I wave as I leave the cafeteria.

Knowing exactly where the books I want are, I quickly gather them into my arms, anxious to return to my dorm room and read them, which is probably the reason I’m not paying attention to where I’m going and end up running into someone.

“Oomph,” I huff out as the books slip from my arms and crash to the floor. My partner in collision says something, but I’m too flustered to notice. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention,” I mutter, squatting down to pick up my pile.

A pair of gray slacks come into my view, and large hands with long, pale fingers reach out and help gather my books.

Looking up, it’s all I can do not to gasp. The man is gorgeous, with jet-black hair and deep brown eyes. He smiles at me, and we stand as one, as if the movement is synchronized.

He looks down at the collection of books and smiles. “The Di’an civilization?” His voice is deep and smooth, sending a tiny chill of appreciation down my spine.

I nod, too tongue-tied to say anything.

“One of my favorites,” he continues.

“Y-you know of the Di’an?” I ask in surprise, my eyebrows raising incredulously.

“Of course,” he answers, then holds his hand out. “Professor Cian O Broin. Anthropology. It’s my business to know about these things.”

I place my hand in his and feel a zing of awareness rush through me. “I’m in your class.” My words come out breathless, and I clear my throat. “I mean, I will be in your class once classes officially begin.”

“I look forward to it, Miss…?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Adeline. Adeline Knight.”

He holds my hand for a second longer, then releases it. And that’s when it hits me. This is the man from my dream! My handsome, raven-haired prince!

How the hell is that even possible?

But before I can grasp that revelation, I start to feel dizzy, and a voice sounds in my head: This man is not what he seems.