Morpheus quickly moved away. “You won’t find her that way.”
The sorcerer—no, the god—motioned for Kraft to follow him back into the Ribald Unicorn. “I think she’s back here. With Talon, that traitor.” Morpheus flashed into Sebastian before turning back into Mormo.
Wait. Mormo?
Mormo frowned, his white hair long, his robe plain, brown, and dirty. Odd, because Mormo didn’t like dirt at all. “I paid the shapeshifter well, but he turned on me. You didn’t pay him at all, and he turned on you. On your girlfriend.” Mormo sighed. “Ah, well, live and learn. Why don’t you go eat him up, nachzehrer? And bring us back the artifact.”
Before Kraft could answer, Mormo vanished, and Riley appeared, pregnant, her arms full of pups who looked way too much like Ivan and Fredrick for comfort.
The berserker could never be yours, Kraft, because you are nothing and never will be. Just a tool to be used by your superiors, and you should be glad of it. Now come and feast upon your enemies kin.
Ritter appeared and took one of Riley’s babies, opened his mouth, and—
“No,” Kraft roared and sat up, his heart racing, his claws and fangs out and ready for war.
Only to find himself alone in his bedroom, staring into the dark.
“What the fuck was that?” He looked all around, touched his face, his chest, and felt nothing out of the ordinary.Morpheus, you ass. Keep away from my dreams.
“Did you call?”
Kraft blinked. “You’re here? I thought you could only enter dreams.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“I just woke up from a dream.”
Morpheus frowned, dressed as he usually was in a toga, his divine presence visible from eyes made of golden light. “Not one of my constructs. You fell under a spell that shouldn’t have been able to touch you.”
“What?”
“Did you give your bloode to anyone?”
“No. Why?”
“Because they could only tap into you if they had some of that rich stuff.” Morpheus scowled. “Unless... Wolf, tell me true. Have you mated the lycan? I sense a bond, but it’s hazy. And bitter with brimstone?” Morpheus looked taken aback. “What did you do?”
Kraft groaned. “This is a nightmare.” He studied Morpheus, smelling the real presence of a god that he’d met before. Not like that other Morpheus. “Look, I went to bed with Riley. Then I was dreaming about having pups and her having other mates. And my father.” He growled. “That bastard was there.”
“Ritter I can sense. But the other me I cannot. Let me ask you this. Has your mate givenherblood to anyone? If you’re bonded, as I sense you are, then you could be connected through her.”
“Hell. A sorcerer stole some of her blood,ja.”
Morpheus seemed to relax. “Oh, good.”
“Good?”
“That explains it.” He moved close and would have touched Kraft, but Kraft held up a hand. Unfortunately, Morpheus held him down like a child and traced a symbol right next to the demon mark on his chest. “I can’t counter the deal you made—stupid nachzehrer—but I can protect you from further dream interference. There. Now you’re protected. Tell Hecate she owes me yet another one.” He rose and gave a sly grin. “In fact, tell her I wantMormoto show up with my payment. I’ll send her a bill.” He whirled and disappeared in a flash of light.
Kraft blinked in confusion.
Morpheus reappeared, slapped him across the face, and barked, “Wake up!”
Kraft shotup in his bed, his heart racing, and stared at the dim room in befuddlement mixed with anger.
“What the fuck?”
He glanced at the empty spot next to him in bed and growled. Still not sure if he was awake or dreaming, he yanked on a pair of pants and raced into the hallway, only to see Rolf yawning and stretching as he walked down the hall.
