Page 46 of Gods of Prey
The words hit me like ice water, reminding me of what I’ve done. He thinks this is just a dream—a fantasy his subconscious has conjured. He doesn’t realize I’m actually here, that every touch, every kiss, every whispered confession was real.
Guilt crashes over me in waves. I’ve violated his privacy. His autonomy. His trust. I’ve taken advantage of his vulnerable state to satisfy my own selfish desires.
“Sienna?” He pulls back to look at me, concern creeping into his eyes at whatever he sees in my expression. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t tell him. Can’t admit what I’ve done without destroying whatever fragile trust exists between us. Instead, I force a smile.
“Nothing. Just...This is beautiful.” I gesture to the glowing meadow. “Your subconscious has excellent taste.”
He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my temple. “My subconscious has been thinking about you far too much lately.”
The admission makes my chest tighten with guilt and something dangerously close to hope.
“Revel,” I start, but he shakes his head.
“I know. When I wake up, we’ll go back to being enemies. Back to the mission and the duty and all the reasons this can never happen.” His arms tighten around me. “But for now, can we just be?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. We lie there in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin while I memorize the feel of being held, of being wanted, of being seen as more than just the Goddess of Death.
But even as I savor the moment, the guilt eats at me. This intimacy was built on a lie. He thinks he’s safe in his dreams, free to explore feelings he would never acknowledge in the waking world. And I’ve taken that safety from him without his knowledge or consent.
“I should go,” I whisper eventually.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice already thick with approaching sleep. “Please. Just a little longer.”
The plea in his voice—so different from his usual commanding tone—nearly breaks my resolve. But I know I can’t stay. Every moment I remain makes my deception worse.
I begin to pull away, and he whimpers at the loss of contact. “Sienna, please,” he breathes, reaching for me even in his sleep. “Don’t leave me.”
The broken sound of my name on his lips will haunt me forever. I lean down and press one last kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of tears I didn’t realize I was crying.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I know he can’t hear me. “I’m so sorry.”
I withdraw from his mind as gently as I can, feeling the dream dissolve around us. The last thing I see is his peaceful face, finally relaxed in sleep, unaware of what I’ve stolen from him.
Back in my own ethereal form, floating in the darkened apartment, I’m overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I’ve done. I’ve crossed a line that can never be uncrossed, taken something that wasn’t freely given.
And the worst part? Despite the guilt eating me alive, I can’t bring myself to regret it entirely. Because for a few stolen moments, I felt alive again. I felt wanted. I felt like more than just duty and death and endless punishment.
But as I watch Revel sleep, his face peaceful and trusting, I make a silent vow. I won’t invade his dreams again. Whatever this thing between us is, it has to develop honestly, in the waking world, or not at all.
Even if it kills me to stay away.
Even if the memory of his whispered pleas and desperate touches haunts every moment of my existence.
Some lines, once crossed, can never be uncrossed. And some guilt, once earned, can never be absolved.
I float to the window and stare out at the sleeping city, carrying the weight of my deception and the echo of his voice calling my name.
Don’t leave me.
But I already have. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know it.
14
Sienna
Imaterialize in Jovie’s living room at precisely three in the morning, the witching hour when the veil between realms thins. She’s waiting for me, perched on the edge of the couch with a mug of cold coffee between her hands. Dark circles shadow her eyes, but there’s a spark of determination there that reminds me why my brother fell for her.
