My. God. It worked!” Donovan scrambled to squeeze himself beneath a kitchen chair like a puppy attempting to avoid a rolled-up newspaper. The result of his attempt was disastrous. The table scraped across the floor, knocking over the vase of wildflowers it held, and the crack of the chair toppling to the floor sent Keely into a slightly hysterical round of laughter. “Come here, baby,” she giggled. Combat crawling, he inched his way toward her until she could wrap an arm around his neck. She gave him a jubilant squeeze. “Did I scare you? I scared the crap out of myself.” Soulful brown eyes blinked up at her and she sobered. “I’m a Halfling, Donovan,” she whispered, unsure how she felt about acknowledging her heritage. On the one hand, she could forget all about her lifelong desire to be like everyone else. She was pretty sure being a Halfling didn’t fall into the category of normal. And she knew, even if she found a way to break the curse and managed to put an end to the dreams at last, she would still be an oddball freak, her fairie blood setting her apart from the normal world the way the dreams always had.
