Page 115 of Their Blood Queen

I watch from inside my own body like a spectator as this reality’s emotions play out. Only a glimmer of broken glass informs me that it’s simply a projection of what could have been.

“Get off me!” I scream, not because it doesn’t feel good what the one with an unnaturally long tongue is doing, but because this was supposed to be a dream.

“Not a chance, Sigil.”

Why do they always call me that?

I move to push the one between my legs away, but I realize I can’t. My muscles don’t comply.

Red eyes glow at my right. Eyes that belong to a face crafted by a master sculptor, but his fangs dripping with my blood suggest he’s anything but a benevolent being. “You’re far too delicious to release now. Plus, you invited us into your mind. You told us to play.”

Yes, but that had been when this was all a fanciful dream full of orgasms and forbidden desires.

I open my mouth to say as much, but the creature on my right groans at the sight. “Yes, open that mouth wide, our Sigil. We’re starved for more of your screams.”

The shard that had broken from this place finally dissipates and leaves me wavering and dizzy. My vision blinks in and out of reflective realities, the one I had just experienced fading away like the dream it is.

They were real, I realize with certainty.

This reality might have played out differently, but the figments in my dreams aren’t figments at all.

They’re dream monsters.

Panic seizes my chest as I watch the river sheen over without a single fracture.

“Cain! Sabre! Cage!” I cry all their names now, knowing there’s only one reason the connection I felt with them could have been so powerful.

They’re my mates.

Or at least, they were supposed to be. We didn’t get to finish what was started.

I drive my hands into the river of blood and ignore the shards that drag up my fingers, protesting the disturbance that ripples out from where I broke through. My extremities go numb as pain jolts up to my elbows.

It feels right to insert my hands into the place where my mates fell. I don’t know how it can help them, but it doesn’t matter. I simply need them to know I’m here.

“Come back to me,” I urge them. I don’t think they can hear me, but I utter that prayer in my mind with such fervor that if Cain really is the God he pretends to be, he won’t be able to ignore it.

I would have stayed there until I froze over, but light spills into my nightmare and drags me out by the ankles. I scream as I realize that I really am being yanked around as my eyes fling open. One of the Rinhold’s manservants pulls me into the light as Duchess Rinhold scowls down at me.

“You’re a lucky whore,” she tells me as she peers down her perfect nose. Her eyes narrow as I try to fathom what about any of this could be lucky. “I’ve managed to arrange an old-style marriage to take place. Tonight. No one will challenge the validity of the union if they see it with their own eyes.”

I stare at her as another servant pops open a vial and pours the contents onto me. The grime of the dungeon seems to evaporate as new layers of fancy silks snake over my cleansed skin. The layers are revealing and shift and move with me, leaving gaps of skin in view.

“See it with their own eyes?” I echo, not sure if I understand what she means by that. Wouldn’t any marriage ceremony be an affair with Elite guests in attendance? I didn’t imagine that the Earl would have a wedding with only private members invited. The Rinholds prefer to flaunt their wealth, and festive occasions are a wonderful place to do that.

Although, it doesn’t really matter. “I won’t agree to the union. If you choose to invite other families, you’re only going to humiliate yourselves. The courtship is over. The deal is off.”

I get a choice in this. A courtship is a mutual affair.

Or it’s supposed to be.

“The contract is already dissolved,” she says, nodding to my body.

I look down and realize what she means.

The mark I had cherished above my navel is now gone. The smooth skin is clearly visible through the tight strips of silk winding over my torso where there should be a jagged mark.

Panic seizes my lungs.

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