Page 28 of Their Blood Queen

My future is a bleak nightmare waiting to consume me. Escaping it just for a little while is an indulgence I allow. One where I find a willing human female and then ask Cage to join us. We share her blood and her dreams, as well as her body. It’s enjoyable enough, at least for a few nights.

But when her dreams turn sour, we always have to return home. We give her our blood, wipe her mind clean, and send her on her way.

Last time, we were almost caught. Last time, we almost killed our toy.

I’m too hungry.

Cage is too frustrated.

We shouldn’t leave again.

But the famine has stretched on, and we have kept to our posts, leaving us both hungry for a proper meal.

Cage shouldn’t have even come tonight, but the kingdom is distracted, so he took the risk.

Because he’s just as hungry as I am.

Maybe that’s why we’re hearing things that don’t exist, like a soul calling us from the dream plane even though that shouldn’t be possible.

Souls don’t call us.

We call them.

But a soul that sounded that delicious would be wonderfully distracting. I find myself working my jaw as my fangs ache for a bite. I’ve never had a female’s blood that tasted right. There was always something wrong, like a sour note, or a strange aftertaste.

Because to a Strigoi, only a compatible mate’s blood is perfect. I’ve always imagined what she might taste like.

Sugary, sweet caramel?

Or maybe more reserved, like a fragrant tea.

Or peaches, my hunger supplies.

Cage tastes like dark chocolate steeped in whiskey, not peaches.

Overpowering, but intoxicating.

The closest I’ve ever come to truly enjoying my food is biting Cage—but he’s not human. He and I are both dreamwalkers who feed on blood laced with dreams, so exchanging our blood with each other leaves us hungry and dissatisfied.

I’m just starving for a proper meal. That’s all.

Yet, Cage is searching the horizon for the source of that sound—even though I know it can’t be real. He’s been perfectly still in a way only an assassin of the Van Drakken bloodline can be.

His eyes are bright red, reflecting so brightly in the window that I can’t deny we both heard the same thing. He’s peering into the dream plane, too, or else I’d be seeing his pretty blues reflecting back at me.

If that scream wasn’t real, then why did he hear the scream, too? Am I really so hungry that I manifested the sound?

That I manifested a mate?

Because that scream hinted at a soul worth devouring. One I would thoroughly enjoy for eternity.

My stomach twists with renewed hunger, but I don’t want Cage to be slighted. We just had sex, and this is how I respond? Admitting I heard the scream would require telling him my theory.

I’m dreaming of a mate.

I need a mate.

Meaning he and I can never be together again once that happens. Not if I stay here. Our families would rather kill each other than unite.

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