Page 108 of Snatched By the Sandman

“Little wonder.” He shakes his head with a disbelieving, airy laugh.

I don’t get a chance to smile before he coils a strong hand around my neck and brings my mouth to his. I will never stop wanting him, all of them. His open robe displays rippling muscles and gold-harvest moon skin. His black feathered wings curve around me, beckoning me deeper into his world of shadows and dreams.

At the touch of familiar, possessive fingers digging into my waist from beyond his brother’s wings, unraveling my corset strings, I gasp into Morpheus’s mouth. I kiss the God of Dreams harder until he parts from me and turns me around to face his brother. A blush swells in my cheeks.

Cupping my chin and tilting it up, Nyxion hovers his breath above my lips and purrs, “Are you ready for the Gods of Dreams and Nightmares to take you as one, Zenya?”

“Not here,” Hecate interrupts, causing me to blink. Her torches flare to life, burning brighter. “You must go to the barrier. The three of you. Go,” the Goddess of Magic commands. “Now!”

We don’t argue with the embodiment of Crossroads. Nyxion gathers me into his arms, and we shadow-travel to the great dark canyon shrouded in mist dividing the Realms.

I cling to Morpheus as he beats his wings against the air, slowing until we land upon a high mountaintop on the edge of the canyon. It’s nightfall…or what passes as nightfall in theRealm of Dreams with a great glowing sphere of a full moon casting a lunar light upon the landscape. A fine mist shrouds the air, but the forest of winter trees with ice-coated naked branches allures me the most.

Morpheus merely smirks as he lowers me to the ground and nods to Nyxion on our other side, “The same night she wove the forest of bones and teeth, she also created this winter forest. I like to call it the Silver Woods.”

I tip my head back with a laugh. “Really? You couldn’t think of anything better?”

Morpheus lifts a brow, and Nyxion exchanges a look with him, a playful, brotherly expression as Morpheus snickers. My nerve endings tighten with suspicion.

Ruffling his wings and stroking his chin, Morpheus replies, “I figured it would make your inevitable regret a bit more thrilling…and chilling.”

“My regret?” I scrunch my brows, confused. I look to Nyxion, but he shifts into his lich form, betraying nothing in his expression but his black eyes. They’ve turned more predatory and possessive.

Grinning playfully, Morpheus curls his palm in the air and twists his shadows around his wrist and fingers. “You’ll be too busy screaming to think about the name, little wonder.”

I shiver for more than one reason as I dart my eyes between them.

“Last time, I was not given a proper hunt, Zenya.” Morpheus leans closer to trace a finger down my cheek.

My breath leaves in ghostly puffs, and I glance down at my white gown and the goosebumps sprouting on my skin. “If I’m a new soul born in dreams, magic, and nightmares, why do I feel so cold?”

Nyxion hems me in from behind, his breath tingling my spine. “You wove your new soul with your greatest and rawestexpression of your humanity. Your new soul will always carry that identity with all its beautiful senses and emotions.”

“Beautiful and delicious,” Morpheus summons my attention, and I turn to find him licking his lips as the shadows swell all around him.

A hint of fear pulses through me. “But I won’t die of frostbite, right?”

“No. But you may weave a coat or whatever you wish to make yourself more comfortable,” Morpheus opts, his voice deepening with anticipation. “It will be quite entertaining when the time comes to rip it off.”

“Indeed,” agrees Nyxion.

“Now, my little wonder,”—Morpheus slowly turns me toward the woods—, “Are you ready for the Gods of Dreams and Nightmares to hunt you?”

I weave the fur coat as he’d said. Once I’m deeper into the woods, I will add leggings, thermal underwear, socks, and more layers. Christmas has come early, and I fully intend for them to work at unwrapping me like the shiny, new soul I am.

At first, I slowly embark into the Silver Woods, determined to come up with a better name later.

As I approach the treeline, I turn briefly to find Nyxion and Morpheus colluding, talking in too low tones.

They’re up to something—beyond just this hunt.

The cold bites into my skin, the frost pricking my nose. My breath forms clouds in the air, mirroring the pristine white of my fur coat. I’ve stepped into a winter wonderland. The expanse of frosted branches sparkles like precious gems under the moonlight…everything mesmerizes me.

My fur coat stands out starkly against the dark tree silhouettes of the trees, and I imagine it’s a beacon heralding my presence to the daemons hunting me. By now, I’ve woven my other clothing pieces.

I touch one branch, gilded in frost and glistening like polished glass under the pale moonlight. Even with the solid black ankle boots, my steps feel lighter, more delicate as they crunch on the snow-covered ground, echoing through the silent forest. No more than an inch of snow, but everything looks untrod—as if I am the first presence to grace these woods.

When the tree branches crack in the wind, I startle, flicking my head every way. Distant laughter echoes through the air, laughter belonging to Morpheus.

---