Page 27 of Their Blood Queen

Whenever I dreamwalk, my surroundings take on an otherworldly distortion. The half-empty glass on the counter turns black, making the beverage look like shiny shards of coal. Blood runs down the walls. Given I’m peering into the dream plane, that’s likely a reflection of my own debilitating hunger, as is the strange shimmer that’s taunting me.

My hunger has grown over the years, even before the famine started. It’s entirely my family’s fault. My father can’t maintain the needs of our kingdom, so the drain has already fallen to me. I have the burden of the throne with none of the perks. It’s rumored that Morpheus, our God, gave us power over dreams, enabling us to better locate our prey.

It’s a gift we have abused, because whenever we find a human with a powerful dream, they become a sacrifice to the blood fields that rest just outside my window.

The fields that require magic to tend to, to keep the mind buried in the soil alive.

Magic that my father, as King, should provide. Instead, he has grown weak, and he has been drawing power from the closest in his family line to keep the blood fields from withering entirely.

Namely, me.

And it’s been going on for quite some time. My fangs are larger than any Strigoi’s and no human seems to satisfy me. Hunger is my constant companion. I can always feel the subtle draw of the throne to feed the fields.

If I could just leave this Godsforsaken realm for twenty-four hours, I’d feel so much better.

Alas, I can’t leave. I’d just be tracked down and dragged back home. My blood is linked to this place. My scent is easily traceable. Unless I find an entirely different dimension where no one can follow me, I’ll never find the reprieve I desperately desire.

I’m grateful for Cage. I watch him as he stares out the window, his long blond hair in gentle waves around his shoulders. He’s not human, but his blood at least tastes good to me. Without him, I probably would have gone mad years ago.

But my hunger has ripened to new heights after hearing that sound. It came to me like a punch in the chest, making me weak for the satisfaction it promises.

The scream must have been my imagination, because there’s nothing out of sorts. My hunger has turned so ravenous that I’m now creating echoes in the dream plane.

The effect of my delusion is likely amplified since I’m in the Strigoi Palace, which resides in the Morpheus Kingdom, one of many kingdoms in the Hell Fae Realm, and ours is a place where dreamwalking requires the least amount of energy.

The veil is thin here. That’s why the Strigoi made it our home. But sometimes it backfires when I desire something too strongly.

My room looks like it always does when I’m peering through the veil. The ridiculously expensive furniture crowds a bookshelf. I added it when I discovered Cage had an affinity for human fiction.

The books are glassy and cracked in the dream plane, but that is normal. Books are broken-off pieces of the souls which sit outside a person’s body, a trait that’s visible in the Dream Realm.

Nothing is out of place.

No one is here.

My observation doesn’t explain why my body has reacted, though. Imagined or not, the sound of such a delicious meal has my fangs growing thick in my mouth and my cock swelling even though I just had sex.

“Did you hear that?” Cage asks from his favorite brooding window. His long fingers pause in buttoning his white silk shirt as he stares outside.

Except, he’s not gazing over the blood fields that are pitifully sparse for the season. The famine has been going on for far too long, placing a burden on my shoulders that I’d rather not deal with.

Even though I’m the Strigoi Prince, it’s a burden I must bear.

I’d much rather run away, forgetting my duties and the reason Cage and I can never publicly be together. I’m a Prince. He’s the son of a rival line, one that is on the verge of war with mine for the throne.

Ironically, because I haven’t found a mate.

Cage hasn’t, either. But his family seems to think that if he had the blessing of the Strigoi throne, then he would magically find a female and produce an heir—and magic—to keep up with the demands of our kingdom.

We’re a perfect match made in Hell.

Neither of us is in a hurry to find a mate. If we did, that would ensure we’d be trapped here forever. No more outings. No more liaisons when we can sneak away. We’d be locked down for good.

Cage helps me deal with my hunger, and I help him forget all the blood on his hands while we occasionally escape to the mortal realm for the rare escapade. While there are human females in the palace, they’re untouched virgins my father hides away in an attempt to breed a new Queen. It doesn’t work that way, but my father believes in old legends enough to try. I haven’t even told Cage about them because I don’t need more reasons for him to judge me. It’s a problem I’ll inherit when I’m King.

And when I’m King, I hope I can do something about that, and the many other flaws in this kingdom. I’m not hopeful, though. I have a feeling the throne will corrupt me.

I’m not as strong as Cage, even if I’d never admit that to him.

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