Page 30 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

“Well, I’m not leaving.”

Sebastian’s lips curled up. “I don’t mind an audience.”

Ronan groaned, staring at the ceiling as he debated his next move. “Five. Minutes. Then I’m coming back in here, and I don’t care if you’re in the middle of spurting down her throat, I will bodily remove you from this room. You owe me a debt. I intend to make you pay it.” He turned and slammed the door behind him, Sebastian’s words floating after him.

“You heard the brute,trésor. Hold on to the headboard. Looks like this is going to be fast and dirty.”

CHAPTER10

EREBOS

Five Years Earlier

It’s been said that dreams are a devil’s playground. An in-between realm where what’s true and what’s fantasy become not only possible but undeniably real. Anyone who’s woken up with their heart in their throat, breath shallow, limbs trembling, can speak to the accuracy of the claim. As can the ones who find themselves on the cusp of release only to have it slip through their fingers as reality crashes back through.

Fear and pleasure... the reactions may seem diametrically opposed, but they are more connected than one might think. For what else is the journey to a climax but the fear you will not reach your destination and the unmistakable relief when you finally do?

The little death, they call it.

His lips curled up into a cruel smile.Yes... that tracks.

Dreamscapes contain the most fertile soil, which is why they have always been his preferred hunting ground. His wife had always been concerned with the creatures of Earth, but he found them boring and predictable. There was a natural order to the universe that left no room for surprise or creativity. Not like the land of dreams. There, anything was possible. It was a world where phantoms became real, wishes given wings, monsters granted life.

And it washisdomain.

Once upon a time, he was known as the Father of Dreams. Now those who still remembered called him the Lord of Death... if they called him anything at all.

Fools. All of them.

But they would pay for their oversight. No one could run from a god. No one was immune to dreams.

For that was the problem with the natural order. Mortals had to sleep, and sleep begets dreams. Which meant he would always find them. There was no way to hide from the dream world’s one true king.

Soon, far sooner than anyone realized, their waking hours wouldn’t be safe either. Because he wasn’t content ruling the dream world any longer. Not after his wife and her treacherous children tried to lock him away.

They thought they’d outsmarted him. They thought they’d won. But he’d bided his time. Made his moves in the dark where they couldn’t see. It had taken centuries, but he’d found his way back.

Oh, was he back.

Erebos tilted his neck from side to side, appreciating the glide of hair across his back, the rapid flutter of his heartbeat, the deep pull of air into his lungs. He stood and stretched, flexing his arms and testing his strength. Every sensation was a wonder, but also a reminder of the limitations of his newly acquired human body. The vessel would do.

For now.

He glanced around his cell, smirking. The damp stone may imprison a mortal, but never him. Any minute now, those he’d summoned would arrive and free him. And once he was out, once he was free, he was coming after all of it.

Every.

Fucking.

Piece.

And he wouldn’t stop until he destroyed them all.

Deep within the bowels of the Kiri’s Palace, the Dreamer grinned.

Long live the king.

Three weeks later

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