But so long as I can experience the remainder of my existence at my dark obsession’s side, I will never numb myself again.
Once the wave of pain eases slightly, I move beside Maven in Limbo. My mouth waters as I watch her dream slowly curl through this plane of existence, saturated with her aura—as if even in her sleep, she beckons to me.
How could I resist when I crave her so desperately?
I reach out for Maven’s dream and groan in satisfaction when the flavor of her subconscious floods my mouth. The taste of her dreams haunts me.
The pain in my body lessens slightly, and I find myself in a vague dream set in our quintet apartment back at Everbound. Maven is in the theater room, curled up between Frost and Crane on the sofa as Decimus scrolls through films.
“Oh! This one’s a classic,” Decimus insists. “I mean, the main girl in it is human, so she gets her panties in a twist trying topick between two guys when the way I see it, she could’ve just picked them both and added her hot best friend while she’s at it.Butit has a great sex scene in the rain. We could reenact it.” He bounces his eyebrows flirtatiously.
She makes a face. “They’re smiling on the cover. It looks cheesy.”
“You agreed to watch a romcom, did you not? They’re all cheesy,” Crane clarifies.
“I only agreed because they’re Lillian’s favorite,” she mumbles, lazily reaching up to tease her fingers through Frost’s white hair.
The scene continues, shifting and flitting to other casual instances. It’s so rare that my keeper’s dreams are so normal or peaceful. For a while, I’m pleased as I bask in her dream space, feeding to my content.
But then I feel it.
The same cold, dark presence that kicked me from her subconscious the last time.
I grit my teeth against the pressure and fight to remain in Maven’s dream, ignoring how my markings flare in warning. It’s a gut-wrenching sensation as her dream melds with something else entirely—an external memory, cold and brutal as it twists into her dream space. Everything shakes around me as I cling to Maven’s psyche.
I won’t have it unprotected as it was the last time.
When the melding stops, I drift for a moment in a dark, sinister place. It’s disturbingly unfamiliar as I try to get my bearings, still clinging tightly to Maven’s aura.
Finally, a memory-spun dream begins to play out. It feels nothing like one of Maven’s, yet I can still sense her nearby, present as she, too, experiences this.
I watch as a vague, towering figure stands waiting in a large stone room. Two thinly clad elderly humans with iron collarsaround their necks are shivering and silent on the floor beside him. Faceless guards line the perimeter of the room. Everything is dark and bland as if color is too afraid to exist in this dim plane of existence.
Finally, double doors swing open, and a bloke in long dark robes enters the room with a sweeping bow. Judging from the blackness at the tips of his spindly fingers, he must be a necromancer.
“My liege. Another of thine chosen mortals has succumbed to a most glorious death.”
The Entity shows no emotion. “And my daughter?”
“She awaits just outside.”
“Send her in.”
My pulse pounds in my ears as the necromancer brings in a younger version of Maven, perhaps fourteen years old. I choke at the sight of my keeper at this age—bruised and dirty, with her hair tied back from her gaunt face so her haunting eyes are even more prominent. She’s dressed all in black with gloves as she glances down at the terrified humans, but she makes no expression.
“One may live. Choose who will die and deal the blow,” Amadeus’s deep voice rumbles.
The younger Maven remains blank-faced. “I choose?”
“Yes, daughter.”
In a blindingly fast move, Maven whips a dagger from a sheath at her hip and sends it into the throat of one of the guards standing behind Amadeus and the humans. The guard vanishes from the dream, but the Entity appears unsurprised.
“There. That monster’s hands will wander no longer,” Maven mutters, turning as if to leave.
The doors slam closed before she can exit. Although the Entity’s voice remains strangely emotionless, it is like a coo.
“My murderous, moral maniac. You displease me.”
