Chapter 3
THREE
REMUS
My plan is going spectacularly. Of course it is—I am Remus, destroyer of cities, bringer of glorious chaos, and apparently, as it turns out, irresistible to beautiful mortal women.
Who could have predicted this stunning success? Well, me. Obviously. I am extremely clever and devastatingly charming when I put my mind to it.
My stupider, less talented brothers always had such trouble with romance. All that overthinking and careful planning and respect for boundaries—ugh, so tedious. I always suspected that if I ever decided to acquire a consort, I’d be far more successful than their bumbling attempts at courtship.
But there was always the obstacle of the ball and chain tied around my neck—or rather, to the back of my head—my eternally irritating Siamese twin, Romulus.
No one can imagine what it’s like to have another face constantly attached to the back of your skull, unseen without mirrors but always there, always ready to wake up the moment things get interesting and ruin everything with his cold, logical bullshit.
“That’s not responsible, Remus.” “You can’t just take what you want, Remus.
” “Think about the consequences, Remus.”
Blah, blah, fucking blah.
It’s never been fair, sharing a body with Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass. He’s always ready to whip around and snatch control just when I’m having the most fun, turning my beautiful chaos into his boring order.
For example, months ago when I began making plans to acquire this delicious consort, Romulus immediately knew what I was up to.
We share memories, the bastard, so he can spy on my every thought and scheme.
Before I could even properly plan my romantic abduction, I found myself locked back in the dungeon during my waking hours—the same miserable dungeon he imprisoned us in for two hundred years rather than let me experience any joy whatsoever.
Two. Hundred. Years.
Do you know how mind-numbingly boring two centuries of imprisonment is when you’re the god of war? When chaos and excitement are literally in your divine nature? I nearly went completely mad.
Only one of my brothers cared about my plight.
Layden alone came to visit me in that wretched dungeon, and sweet, clever Layden offered me salvation.
The youngest of us, he took pity on me because he understood how suffocating our family’s rigid rules could be.
He’d been away for decades, no longer the innocent little brother who’d blindly follow whatever Abaddon decreed.
And oh, the dark, delicious magic he’d learned during his absence—secrets I believe he shared only with me.
He gave me an elixir to keep my mind separate from Romulus’s. A way to be truly free for the first time in millennia.
Genius.
So we plotted, Layden and I. We played the part of obedient brothers, gained our freedom to roam the castle. I promised to abandon my “schemes” of stealing a consort—ha! As if I’d ever give up on something I wanted that badly. Layden pretended to be content with family life again.
And after months of being such good little boys, with Romulus’s smug assurance that he had me “in check”—as if he could ever truly leash his superior half—we convinced the others to take a vacation.
The moment they left, I struck.
And now here I am, holding the most magnificent, sumptuous female in existence, having swept her away to my castle like the romantic hero of her wildest fantasies.
She’s even stopped screaming—well, mostly.
Every so often a delightful little squeal erupts from her perfect lips, but mainly she burrows that gorgeous face against my chest. She’s so fucking warm pressed against me, her lush curves fitting perfectly in my arms like she was crafted specifically for this purpose.
Had I known claiming a consort would feel this intoxicating, I would have found a way to do it centuries ago.
The excitement building in my chest makes me feel giddy in a way I haven’t experienced since I won the Battle of the Three Emperors in 1805—when I helped Napoleon crush those Austrian-Russo fools so magnificently. Back then, the prize was just more glorious warfare and bloodshed.
Now? Now the prize is the wild, unexplored adventure of having a consort of my very own.
After millennia of war, I’ve tasted enough blood to satisfy even my appetites. But a consort? A beautiful, warm, willing consort who chose me, who raised her hand when I called for volunteers?
That’s something I’ve never known. Something I’ve craved without even realizing it.
Finally, the landscape below becomes familiar—the rolling green hills and dense forests of our territory, untouched by human civilization.
My wings cut through the northern wind with powerful beats as I spiral us downward.
It’s summer, so the land isn’t buried under snow and ice but painted in rich emerald and gold.
And there, rising from the landscape beside the glittering sapphire lake like something from a fairy tale, stands my home.
Our home now.
I send out the runes that deactivate our protective forcefield and swoop through the window of my bedroom with a flourish that would make any romance novel hero weep with envy.
My consort jolts as we touch down, but she doesn’t lift her head from my chest. When I look down at her, those beautiful eyes are still squeezed shut tight, like she’s afraid this will all disappear if she opens them.
Smart girl—this is definitely too good to be true. Good thing I’m exactly the kind of magnificent bastard who makes impossible dreams come true.
The fire crackles merrily in the corner. Even with my warming runes, the air gets cold when flying at those speeds, and mortal temperature regulation is so delicate. I made sure to set the fire before I left—thoughtful of me, really. I can be quite the considerate lover when properly motivated.
“We have arrived, my beautiful consort,” I announce, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice.
Her arms remain clenched around my neck, and honestly? I’m in no hurry for her to let go. Having her lush body pressed against mine is doing absolutely incredible things to my concentration. She’s soft in all the right places, warm and alive and mine.
Suddenly her eyes pop open, and she looks around my chambers with wonder.
“Jesus Christ! This isn’t actually a dream, is it?”
Her head shakes in disbelief as she peels her arms from my neck and tries to wiggle free. I sigh dramatically—all good things must come to an end, I suppose—and set her gently on her feet. She wobbles adorably, so my tail immediately flicks out to wrap around her waist and steady her.
The little gasp she makes is absolutely delicious.
Her eyes go impossibly wide as her fingers tentatively trace along my tail, and holy shit, the sensation shoots straight through me like lightning. “Definitely not a dream,” she whispers.
I have to grit my teeth to keep from groaning. “Are you steady now, little one?”
Her gaze snaps up to mine, and the impact of those gorgeous eyes hits me like a physical blow. “Uh...” She blinks, clearly as affected as I am, then looks around the room with growing amazement. “Holy crap, are we actually in a castle?”
My tail reluctantly uncoils as she strides to the window, places her hands on the stone sill, and peers out at the view. The wonder on her face is absolutely captivating—like she’s seeing magic for the first time.
Which, I suppose, she is.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispers, head shaking slowly.
Then she whips around to face me, eyes bright with excitement and disbelief.
“Wait, okay, so if this isn’t a dream—and this is all incredibly detailed in ways I don’t think my subconscious could make up.
.. I mean, I don’t know enough about castles to dream all this. ..”
She looks from my four-poster bed with its sumptuous crimson hangings to the ancient tapestries, the carved stone fireplace, back to the window overlooking endless forest.
“Where are we? There’s no city, no lights, just trees as far as I can see. Is this real? Or did I get knocked unconscious and stuck in some kind of experimental virtual reality?”
She actually sticks her hand out the window to test the breeze, and I’m charmed beyond words. My consort is curious and fearless and absolutely fucking delightful.
“I am called Remus,” I tell her, enjoying the way my name sounds in my own voice when I’m introducing myself to the woman who’s going to share my bed. “It is my greatest pleasure to have you here, consort. What shall I call you?”
She turns back to study me, and there’s something calculating in her expression now. “But seriously, is this actually real? Like, for-real real?”
I narrow my eyes, genuinely confused. “What other kind of real would there be?”
She laughs—god, I could become addicted to that sound—and reaches out to touch the stone walls.
“I mean, is this some kind of computer simulation, or...” She runs her palm along the ancient stones.
“Everything feels real. Cool to the touch and solid. So are we in another dimension? Are we even still on Earth?”
When her gaze connects with mine again, I feel that same electric sizzle race through my entire being. “Your realm, yes. Simply removed from ordinary human perception. Hidden from their prying eyes and tracking devices.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “So it’s a magic castle?” she squeaks, and then her face lights up like Christmas morning. “I want to see everything!”
I pause, immediately suspicious. This is going far too well.
Beautiful consorts don’t just accept magical abduction and ask for the tour.
“Why? So you can find weaknesses to exploit? Map escape routes?” My voice sharpens.
“Because we are very far from any human settlements, lovely one. There is nowhere to run.”
The joy vanishes from her face like I’ve slapped her. She crosses her arms and takes a step back, and fuck, I hate that defensive posture already. “Well, that’s ominous as fuck. I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I would never harm a consort!” The words explode out of me, and she takes another step back.
Shit. Shit. I can feel Romulus stirring in the back of my mind, always ready to wake up when I get agitated, always prepared to take control and “fix” whatever I’ve fucked up with his cold, measured responses.
I quickly tug the flask from my pocket and take a small swig. The elixir is bitter and metallic, coating my tongue with an unpleasant saltiness, but it does the job. Romulus sinks back into unconsciousness, and I’m fully myself again.
My consort watches this little performance with obvious wariness, and I can practically see the trust draining from her expression.
Fuck. I’m screwing this up already.
“Listen,” I say, forcing my voice into something approaching gentle. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned to value above all else, it’s the happiness and well-being of one’s consort.” I place my hand over my heart, meaning every word. “I will see to your joy here. I vow it on my immortal soul.”
It feels strange, showing this kind of earnestness. I wear so many masks for everyone else—the wild destroyer, the chaotic brother, the uncontrollable force of nature. But with her, maybe I can be real. As real as a monster like me can manage.
Her defensive stance softens slightly, though her arms remain crossed. “Trust is earned,” she says simply.
Smart girl. Beautiful, curious, and wise. I hit the consort jackpot.
She bites her lower lip in a way that makes me want to do the same. “My name’s Lauren.”
“Lo-Ren,” I repeat, testing the syllables. The name tastes like honey on my tongue. “Lauren, my magnificent consort, it is my heart’s deepest delight to have you here.”
I sweep my arm toward the doorway with theatrical flair, gesturing to the corridor beyond. “Now then, what would you like to explore first? I have an entire castle to show off, and I confess I’m rather proud of it.”
Please say yes. Please want to see it all. Please don’t run screaming for the exit.
Because for the first time in my very long existence, I have something I actually want to keep.