Page 24 of Their Blood Queen

Those intrusive wisps are tugging at her arms, her legs, and plucking at her hair in an effort to drag her under.

To drown her in the dream world.

They don’t seem to have good intentions, either.

“Get out,” I say, forcing my words with my beast’s growly sounds.

They flicker as if I’ve hit them with a forceful wind but then settle against the female again.

I frown, not accustomed to nightmares disobeying me in this realm—but this isn’t my territory.

It’s hers.

And whether she recognizes it or not, she has welcomed the darkness in. Even humans have a certain amount of control over their dreams. It might not feel that way to them, but they have more power than they could possibly realize.

It’s why I tread carefully and can only access a mind where I’ve been invited. Even then, it works best if the human allowing me in is compliant and willing.

This female seems to be neither of those things. She’s not praying to me, but I’m still lingering in the back of her mind, or else I wouldn’t have access to her dreams.

What are you up to, little one? I wonder as I draw closer. I don’t want to make her aware of my presence, but I can’t resist the pull this delicate creature has over me. When glass crunches under my step, she pauses what she’s writing and looks up but doesn’t seem to see me.

I’m struck silent by the sight of her eyes. It’s as if she holds molten silver inside her soul and it glitters through her fractured irises.

Stunning.

She only graces my space with a glance before her feathered eyelashes lower, hiding the incredible sight from me.

Now the nickname I’ve settled on for her fits. It’s as if my soul knew what she was, even if I didn’t.

I still don’t have tangible answers, but now I’m even more curious. That in and of itself is a thrill, one I’ve rarely been awarded in my very long existence.

This brilliant little mystery has me captive as I dare to peer closer to see what she’s writing.

The contents of her notebook seem to contain a diary of delicate penmanship of the highest quality that I would expect of a Lady. But it’s her artistic skill that surprises me.

The creative arts are seen as frivolous by most humans when, in truth, expression in any form is a type of magic.

Art is an expression of what resides in one’s soul.

And in this case, my star is drawing the reflection she sees of others through those broken little mirrors she has for eyes.

Fascinating.

My beast rumbles a thunderous growl inside my chest when I see her sketching the faces of two men, one I recognize, and the other being the one who struck her.

The urge to murder that insufferable speck of a human nearly makes me exit her territory in search of his.

He must not pray to me, either, because I’ve never seen him before. Just the older one.

Duke Nightingale.

I hadn’t even paid attention to the fact that he had adult children. The affairs of families are inconsequential to me. All I care about is that quotas are met and contracts honored.

And rules obeyed.

I know who this female is now. She had been hiding just underneath my shadow all this time. It’s rare that a family earns enough points to upgrade into a new sector. And even then, their quotas are exponentially increased in response, making any family who tries to overcome their station challenged to the point where many choose to stay put.

Because failure means death in my city.