Be careful what you wish for, Lauren. You just might get it.
The rational part of my brain—the part that sounds suspiciously like my mother—is screaming that this is insane, that I’m going to die, that normal people don’t get abducted by flying gods on random Tuesday afternoons.
But the other part—the part that’s been suffocating in my childhood bedroom, sending out résumés to companies that never respond, listening to my mother catalog my failures—is singing with a wild, terrified joy.
The world isn’t safe. This man is very,veryunsafe.
We’re flying higher now, faster, and I can feel the air getting thinner. When I crack open one eye and peek down, the plaza looks like a toy set, the people like ants, and the town of Springfield is shrinking to the size of a postage stamp below us.
Oh god. Part of me thought that by talking to him, I was just stalling until help arrived. Maybe ten percent of me was actually contemplating running away with him—or flying away, as it turns out.
And now here I am, being carried through the clouds by someone who believes he’s a god.
And just might actually be one.
This is either the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me, or I’m about to become a very interesting missing person’s case.
Knowing my luck? Probably both.
THREE
REMUS
My plan is going spectacularly.Of course it is—I am Remus, destroyer of cities, bringer of glorious chaos, and apparently, as it turns out, irresistible to beautiful mortal women.
Who could have predicted this stunning success? Well, me. Obviously. I am extremely clever and devastatingly charming when I put my mind to it.
My stupider, less talented brothers always had such trouble with romance. All that overthinking and careful planning andrespect for boundaries—ugh, so tedious. I always suspected that if I ever decided to acquire a consort, I’d be far more successful than their bumbling attempts at courtship.
But there was always the obstacle of the ball and chain tied around my neck—or rather, to the back of my head—my eternally irritating Siamese twin, Romulus.
No one can imagine what it’s like to have another face constantly attached to the back of your skull, unseen without mirrors but alwaysthere, always ready to wake up the momentthings get interesting and ruin everything with his cold, logical bullshit. “That’s not responsible, Remus.” “You can’t just take what you want, Remus.” “Think about the consequences, Remus.”
Blah, blah, fucking blah.
It’s never been fair, sharing a body with Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass. He’s always ready to whip around and snatch control just when I’m having the most fun, turning my beautiful chaos into his boring order.
For example, months ago when I began making plans to acquire this delicious consort, Romulus immediately knew what I was up to. We share memories, the bastard, so he can spy on my every thought and scheme. Before I could even properly plan my romantic abduction, I found myself locked back in the dungeon during my waking hours—the same miserable dungeon he imprisoned us in for two hundred years rather than let me experience any joy whatsoever.
Two. Hundred. Years.
Do you know how mind-numbingly boring two centuries of imprisonment is when you’re the god of war? When chaos and excitement are literally in your divine nature? I nearly went completely mad.
Only one of my brothers cared about my plight.
Layden alone came to visit me in that wretched dungeon, and sweet, clever Layden offered me salvation. The youngest of us, he took pity on me because he understood how suffocating our family’s rigid rules could be. He’d been away for decades, no longer the innocent little brother who’d blindly follow whatever Abaddon decreed. And oh, the dark, delicious magic he’d learned during his absence—secrets I believe he shared only with me.
He gave me an elixir to keep my mind separate from Romulus’s. A way to be truly free for the first time in millennia.
Genius.
So we plotted, Layden and I. We played the part of obedient brothers, gained our freedom to roam the castle. I promised to abandon my “schemes” of stealing a consort—ha! As if I’d ever give up on something I wanted that badly. Layden pretended to be content with family life again.
And after months of being such good little boys, with Romulus’s smug assurance that he had me “in check”—as if he could ever truly leash his superior half—we convinced the others to take a vacation.
The moment they left, I struck.
And now here I am, holding the most magnificent, sumptuous female in existence, having swept her away to my castle like the romantic hero of her wildest fantasies.
