The Lion, the Witch, and the Werewolf Read online

  The Wolf inhaled deeply and his hands fell away from his eyes as he returned my kiss. His arms wound around me, and he pulled me closer; his tongue a hot demand in my mouth. I groaned into the pleasure but pulled away before it consumed me. This was not the place or time for that.

  “Wolf?” I asked as I searched his eyes. “Is Trevor all right?”

  “We're both fine now, Mate.” The Wolf laid his forehead against mine and sighed. “We were lost in a metal maze. Your voice called to us, and then we found you here.”

  Kirill was right; the Mirror's priority was to get us to kill ourselves. Killing Narcissus was its last resort.

  “It's all illusion. The Mirror can't kill us. I'm not sure why, but I think it's because it wouldn't be able to claim us as sacrifices if it did. It's become like a god; a tricky one. It showed us Narcissus talking to Qaus, and Qaus warned him that I would be coming into the mirror and that if he got me to sacrifice myself, Narcissus would become powerful enough to escape.”

  “Qaus? Isn't he one of the rainbow gay gods who was with the bottled water goddess?” the Wolf asked.

  I laughed softly. “Yeah; Qaus, Gish, and Disani.”

  “Zat's probably vhy Mirror zinks it cannot kill us,” Kirill mused. “Qaus told Narcissus to get Vervain to sacrifice herself, not kill her.”

  “Could be something to do with the curse,” the Wolf mused.

  “Whatever it is, we've learned that the Mirror can't replicate scents or the feeling of our bonds. If you're in doubt, use your other senses,” I said quickly as I clasped Kirill's hand and tucked him in more tightly against me. “And we can't let the Mirror separate us again. If there isn't enough space between us, it shouldn't be able to wall us off.”

  “Stay close and use all of my senses.” The Wolf nodded. “Got it.” His hand strayed to my belly protectively. “We must get free of this place, Mate. By any means.”

  “We will,” I said. “Have faith in the others. They'll find Nemesis, and she'll break the curse.”

  “Until zen, ve just have to stay alive,” Kirill said grimly.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Another door appeared.

  “I think we should stay here.” I stared at the door warily. “We just need to hunker down and wait.”

  “Maybe you should try contacting Morpheus again,” Kirill suggested.

  “I tried last night, but he wasn't there,” I said. “I could give it another go if I can manage to get to sleep.”

  “Lie across us,” the Wolf offered. “Then we'll all be together. We can watch over you until you wake up.”

  “I like the sound of that,” I agreed.

  The men sat down, cross-legged, and I laid across their laps. It took a bit of wiggling to get comfortable, but I was finally able to settle on my side facing them. My head rested on the Wolf's lap and my belly pressed against Kirill's. The scent of my men covered me like a blanket and that, combined with the sound of their steady breaths and stroking hands, helped me relax enough to fall asleep.

  The Fey created the Dream Realm so as a fairy, I had a significant amount of control over it. When I fell asleep and found myself dreaming, I wasn't just able to recognize it as a dream, I was also able to control my dream and move beyond it. Why would I need to move beyond it? Because Morpheus was once again absent. And what did moving beyond a dream even mean? It meant that I was going to leave my dream and head into another. If I could find Morpheus, that would be ideal because he'd be able to recognize me as the real me right away. As opposed to believing me to be part of his dream as another person who wasn't a dream god might.

  I searched the dark beach of my dream. I don't know why I dreamt of the beach; it was not my favorite place. Not by a long shot. But night had made it bearable; the sky above me twinkled with stars and a soft breeze warmly caressed my skin. Moonlight guided me down the pristine shore; salty waves shushing against the sand with a tropical lullaby.

  “There you are,” I muttered to myself.

  Hovering in shadows of some jelecote pines, their weeping needles shivering in the salty air, was a hazy spot in a rectangular shape. As I focused on it and approached, it became more defined; turning into a curtain of wispy, indigo mist. The veil of my dream. On the other side of the condensed-mist veil waited the rest of the Dream Realm. I brushed aside the curtain and stepped into an infinite room of similar veils; all of them suspended in the air with seemingly nothing behind them. But I knew the truth; every one of those insubstantial curtains led to the imaginary world of someone's dreams.

  “Morpheus!” I shouted.

  If the Dream God were anywhere near his cave, he should be able to hear me. If he were actually sleeping, it would be more difficult. I didn't have a link to Morph so finding him among the millions of dreams would be nearly impossible. But he is the Guardian of the Gates of Horn; the passage into this realm. I just needed him to be awake and nearby.

  But how often do I actually get what I need when I need it?

  I called for Morpheus a good five minutes before I decided that I was wasting my time. Then I closed my eyes and focused on the links inside me. There were several possibilities. All of my husbands were bound to me through vows of Blood to Heart; I'd just recently completed one such vow with Re on our honeymoon. Then there was Thor, who I still held a connection to through his vow of Blood to Mouth that he'd made to me years ago. Finally, if none of them were sleeping, there was always my link to my lions. Surely, one of them was taking a cat nap.

  The link that finally rose up to lead me into a dream belonged to none of those people. It led me to Fenrir. I had loosely bound myself to the Wolf God a long time ago; nearly as long ago as I'd accepted Thor's vow of protection. Back when I'd healed the Wolf God with my love magic. The magic had formed a link between us. Normally, that connection hovered gently beneath all of the other bonds inside me. I had so many damn ties that it's a wonder they don't get tangled up inside me. But my other ties weren't leading me anywhere in the Dream Realm; it was Fenrir who lit up and pulled me to him.

  I strode unerringly to the billowing curtain of mist and then passed into Fenrir's dream. I found the Great Wolf standing at the top of a hill with Emma, his wife, staring down at a couple of wolf pups playing. I smiled as I approached them. Fenrir loved children, and I wasn't surprised by his dream.

  “Dad,” I called to him.

  Fenrir turned his head and smiled at me. “There you are! We were just wondering where you'd gotten off to.”

  “You were?” I asked.

  “I told Emma you wouldn't leave your pup for long,” he said smugly.

  “My pup?” I asked as I looked back at the wolves. “Is that Vero?”

  “Of course,” Fenrir frowned.

  “Who's the other one?”

  “That's Ethan,” he said with confusion. “You know that.”

  “Dad, this is a dream; your dream,” I started with the explanation. “I'm trapped in a mirror, and this is the only way I can contact anyone. And you're the only one sleeping right now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Fenrir huffed. “This isn't a dream. There's your son, playing with mine; right there. They're as real as can be.”

  “Ethan is your son?” I asked with surprise.

  “Of course, he's my son,” Fenrir growled. “What are you playing at?”

  “Dad, I'm sorry, this is going to be shocking, but I don't have time to coax you into this.”

  I took control of Fenrir's dream and wiped out everything. Suddenly, we stood in an empty room. Fenrir jolted and turned in a circle; searching for his home and family.

  “What have you done?!” He roared.

  “Dad, it's a dream!” I shouted at him.

  Fenrir's chest was rising and falling rapidly and his eyes were glazed with fury.

  “Bring back my wife and child now!”

  I focused on his dream and everything returned. The little wolf pups were back to playing, and Emma was standing to the side, waiting patiently.
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  “It's a dream,” I tried again. “You know what? Never mind. Just listen to what I have to say and try to remember it. You'll realize I'm speaking the truth when you wake up. I need you to go to my husbands and tell them that the Mirror has turned on us. It's been pulling humans into it and feeding on their energy. It's very powerful! We're being manipulated and hunted in here. They need to find Nemesis as fast as possible.”

  “Nemesis,” Fenrir whispered; completely astounded.

  “Just remember what I said, Dad,” I said urgently. “We—”

  Mid-sentence, everything puffed away. My soul flew backwards through the veil of Fenrir's mind and into mine. I came gasping awake in the Wolf's arms; my body jostled about. He was running with Kirill close beside us, Kirill's hand on his shoulder.

  “What's going on?” I asked as the adrenaline of my fear shoved away sleep sharply.

  “The Mirror is moving us,” the Wolf growled.

  I looked over Kirill's shoulder and saw one of those metal plates pushing us down the corridor.

  “I can run,” I said. “Put me down.”

  “I'm not stopping until we're safe,” the Wolf refused. “Just hold on, Mate.”

  I grabbed his shoulders and held on; keeping a close eye on the rapidly moving plate behind us. The Mirror was getting more aggressive. I guess it didn't like us trying to sit out the game. Either that, or it had decided to kill us after all. But wouldn't it have just slaughtered us in that room, if it had? There were several ways it could manage it. I blinked and thought about it. Perhaps it wasn't Qaus' warning or even the fact that it couldn't take energy from us if it killed us. Perhaps the Mirror couldn't affect us with its illusions. They seemed real and felt real but so had the food, and Narcissus said the food, although filling, didn't have any real nutrition to it. So, maybe the illusions didn't have any real power to them.

  I considered how the Mirror had tried to get Kirill to burn himself on that pyre and Trevor to cast himself in that pit. Why would it work if the men had done it? Perhaps it was the belief—Kirill's and Trevor's belief that they were dying—that would have killed them. I remember hearing once that if you die in a dream, you die in real life because your mind will believe you to be dead. Belief is a very powerful magic, especially when used by Gods. But did it really matter how or why the Mirror was doing all of this? All I needed to remember was to not believe its illusions. Hopefully, Nemesis would save us before things got too horrible in this realm of reflections.

  Suddenly, light and laughter surrounded me. I turned to look forward just as I was jerked away from the Wolf. I clung to him, but the arms that took me were too strong for either of us. I was torn away from my husband and flung back into a boisterous crowd of beautiful people, all dressed in vibrant costumes. Colorful feathers, silk, velvet, damask, leather, and jewels adorned the dancing throng in styles of dress that spanned history.

  The men who held me spun me in a circle as they laughed, and when I tried to keep my eyes on the Wolf and Kirill, they blocked my line of sight. I was dipped and lifted; held tightly to one man and yanked around the dance floor until another swept me away. My vision swam with viciously smiling faces and my ears rang with strident, stringed music.

  “Wolf!” I shouted. “Kirill!”

  I could feel them there but I couldn't hear them or see them. The only faces in the room belonged to strangers. Everything sparkled and gleamed, doubly bright after the dull blandness of the metal hallway. Gold adorned the walls and mirrors lined the floor. I looked down into infinity and realized there were mirrors above us as well.

  I laid my head back and screamed at myself.

  Chapter Twenty

  Exhaustion shivered through my body, but they wouldn't let me sleep. They wouldn't even let me stop dancing. Man after man shuffled me around the floor, beneath the glittering lights of massive, crystal chandeliers. Body heat pressed in on me from all sides; stifling me and stunting my breath. I didn't want to breathe in anyway; heady perfumes bloated the air with their choking odor. Boots and high heels struck the floor mercilessly with every dance step—the clacks striking my eardrums until my head pounded—but I knew the mirrored-floor wouldn't break. I had a feeling that I would break first.

  Even my rapid goddess healing couldn't keep up with the constant motion and incessant assault on my senses. I finally gave up and just hung limply in their arms; tossed around like a bag full of jelly. I had tried to reach my husbands by following their links inside me, but my dance partners would only swing me in the opposite direction every time I tried to flee. It went on and on until Kirill's and the Wolf's lines stretched so far away that I knew they couldn't be in the room anymore. The laughter around me grated my raw nerves. I wanted to claw open the faces that smiled at me but my claws wouldn't come, and I was too tired to make the effort even if they would.

  “You can make it stop,” my dance partner purred in my ear.

  His hand trailed gently down my cheek as he turned me to face a corner of the room. There, amid the Versailles ambiance of cherub cornices and gilded crown moldings, a guillotine appeared. A fucking guillotine in the middle of the ballroom. Yeah, okay; I suppose it was kind of appropriate for the Marie Antoinette theme. The enormous blade glinted evilly in the flickering light. A burly man stood beside it, beady eyes peering out of the traditional black hood. His arms were crossed but he unfolded them to gesture at his pride and joy as if urging me to give it a whirl.

  “It will be fast, I promise.” The man holding me kissed my throat.

  I weakly tried to push him away. “Fuck off, Mirror!”

  “Oh, is that the way you want to play it?” The man asked casually. “Very well.” He looked up and nodded. “Hold her.”

  My dance partner pushed me back but several more men caught me. Strong hands carried me to the center of the room and then draped me over a gilded table topped with cool marble. The chill revived me a little. I frowned as the table was surrounded by wickedly grinning men. Eager hands lifted my skirts and tore away my underwear. I started to fight, but I was so tired that I could barely move.

  “I feel no pleasure or pain,” the Mirror spoke through the man who positioned himself between my legs. “But I've learned from the minds I've consumed that this act can be both pleasant and painful depending on how it's done. To have it forced upon you is especially traumatic. I don't understand why, but I'm game to try it if you are.”

  He opened his pants and removed his erection. I tried not to react and just stay calm. If I didn't show fear, maybe it would change its tactics. The Mirror's cold hands slid over my thighs, making me shiver.

  “I see their memories, you know? Those who I've taken into me,” the Mirror went on casually. “Some of the men I've fed on enjoy a woman like this; held down for their use. Powerless. Some women even enjoy being taken in this way. But I don't think you are one of those women, Vervain. No; you will not enjoy this. I saw the way you reacted to Narcissus when he attempted to seduce you. This will hurt you very much. The question is; how much of this can you take before you give in to Madame Le Guillotine?”

  “Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “I've been tortured by the best. Your little”—I looked pointedly at the cock he held between my thighs—“prick isn't going to bother me. I doubt I'll even feel it.”

  “Too small for you?” He lifted his brows and chuckled. “Very well.”

  The cock enlarged until he had to hold it with both hands. I paled and tried to swallow past the dry lump in my throat. The men surrounding the table undid their pants and pulled forth similar shafts. They began stroking themselves with one hand and pawing roughly at me with the other. Some of them bent forward and began licking me; my cheek, my lips, my neck, even in my ears. I thrashed away from them and ground my teeth together so I wouldn't scream. I began to chant a mantra in my head; It isn't real. It isn't real. It isn't real.

  “Just one word and I'll make it stop,” the Mirror said. “You will live forever inside me. I promise I will treasu
re your memories as if they were my own.”

  “Go to hell and shatter, you emotionless asshole!”

  “Asshole? Interesting suggestion.” The Mirror seemed to consider it. “But we'll start with the usual hole and then work our way back, shall we? I wonder how much you'll bleed?”

  My whole body was shaking as he pressed that monstrous appendage against my sex. I was as dry as the desert from fear, and that would make it all even worse. But it wasn't real. I started the chant again and closed my eyes tightly. I simply wouldn't believe it, and it wouldn't affect me.

  “Vervain!” Narcissus' voice startled me.

  My eyes shot open as I stretched my neck, trying to find Narcissus, but I couldn't see through the thick crowd of men. I did see the men shuffle and stir as they scowled in the direction of Narcissus' voice. Then suddenly, everything disappeared; the ballroom, the men with their monstrous members, the table, and Madame Guillotine. I fell to the frigid floor in a heap of fabric and drooping, powdered coiffure. Was I wearing a damn wig? How did I not notice that massive pile of white hair and pearls stuck on my head? I guess I'd been distracted. I yanked the wig off and tossed it away from me. It skidded across the floor like an angry Pomeranian. But I still wore the pink ballgown the Mirror had put me in. Pink? Really? Narcissus was striding up to me, lowering his arms as if he'd just been waving them about.