His cock twitched despite his denial and he bit back a groan of disgust, covering himself as best he could with his hands. That was just perfect. The crazy dream was already taking the off ramp down to the pervert highway. He’d been alone so long even his fantasies had warped with age.
A cat man with a monster cock. Really, Kansas?
No, not really. That dick was the size of a fully-grown boa constrictor and Kansas wasn’t into pain.
He got to his feet and was assailed by a wave of dizziness that made him stumble and stub his toe. “Ow! Fuck, I felt that and it was a hell of a lot more than a pinch. Why am I not waking up?”
The sharp angles of the female’s face softened, her hand still stroking Lenard’s head in soothing motions. “Be at ease, sea eyes. You must have taken a bad tumble. You say a storm brought you here?”
“Craziest storm I’ve ever seen. Came out of nowhere in the middle of a drought.”
Her head tilted thoughtfully at his words. “I haven’t heard of anything like that since I was a flightless babe at my greatmother’s knee. But that was only a story to help me sleep.”
“Some stories hold truths,” Lenard offered, calm again. He reached for Fenna’s hand and kissed her palm gratefully. “The Storm Child might be based on a truth as well. It’s obvious that he’s no Crow Warrior.”
“Crow Warrior?” He looked up, imagining an army of black-feathered fighters swooping in for an attack. “Who are they?”
“The men you most resemble. If your hair were darker, your skin truly golden, you could pass without close scrutiny. The similarities are fascinating. The differences, however, are beautiful.”
The frank appreciation in his expression nearly made Kansas blush. “I’ve never seen anyone like the two of you either.”
Nothing that could talk, anyway.
“You haven’t?” Fenna sent a speaking look to Lenard. “I suppose there’s nothing for it but to take you to the king, Kansas Frayne.”
“Wait, what? The—you have a king?”
“We all have a king.”
Kansas shook his head, his laughter tinged with panic. “I have politicians who wish they were kings. Is this ruler of yours, what’s the word I’m looking for? Is he an off-with-your-head kind of royal? Queen of Hearts style?”
Lenard’s head tilted so far to the side Kansas worried he might hurt himself. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of this queen,” he said softly, sounding mystified. “If she takes your head, what does she do with those hearts?”
“Never mind. Lost in translation. I’m asking if the king is cruel.” Why was he going along with this? This wasn’t happening, right?
Fenna twittered again. “Our king is strong and wise, sea eyes. He is nothing like your queen or polissians.”
“Politicians,” he corrected absently.
“Exactly. We should get started. It’s not far, but we don’t go to the city as a rule, and this is an unusual set of circumstances. A storm child. He’ll have to be told right away.”
A city. There was a city. Some kind of civilization filled with crows and cats and Fennas…oh my.
Kansas looked around, frustrated at his situation. “I appreciate the thought, but I think I should stay here for now. The point is finding a way to wake up before I start wandering in the real world and end up actually being hurt.”
“He thinks he’s dreaming,” Lenard whispered to Fenna in a voice that sounded amused. “Do you think we should be flattered?”
“We can’t leave him here,” Fenna answered sharply. “Whatever he thinks, it wouldn’t be safe.”
Kansas rolled his eyes. They were talking about him like he wasn’t here again. “At the very least I need to find something to wear. Hallucinations or not, I’m not moving from this spot as long as I’m naked.”
They were naked too, but they had at least some covering in the form of strategically placed feathers and fur.
Feathers and fur.
Another possibility struck him. Maybe there’d been no storm at all. Maybe he’d finally gone round the bend, the way his uncle had sworn he would when Kansas had left the world he’d known all his life for the solitude of the family farm.
“Your heart is too big for you to close it off entirely, Kansas. Believe me, it won’t be good for you.”