Chapter Sixteen Lore #2
And while I wouldn’t want someone in real life to break worlds for me, it would be nice to have someone who looked at me like I was one of the best things in the world. At least as far as they were concerned.
What reader didn’t want to be the object of their fictional crush’s obsession? This realm really was cruel. But I was thankful that this was a test I knew I could pass… if I could just stop being mesmerized by his eyes.
Or the way he was looking at me like he was about to pin me down and devour me right there in front of the prince.
I felt myself straining toward him, like the temptation to go to him was indeed being fueled by forces greater than myself.
Not even Sloth could stop me if I decided to go to Blaze.
My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my skin.
This test was more than simply about desire; if I looked deeper, it was actually tapping into my fear about ever truly being loved.
If I chose Logan, it wouldn’t just be the physical element. It would be the promise of forever, of pure devotion.
A new fear pressed in, nearly choking me.
The Liber Noctem was pumping more magic into the scene. I closed my eyes and saw images of my future if I walked away. Loveless. Solitary. Forever cursed to live out my days without companionship.
The book made it seem inevitable, like it would cast some dark spell and make that my reality, Trials or not. If that was my fate by choice it wouldn’t be terrible, but I sensed the decision would be taken from me. And that was a true nightmare.
A single tear streaked down my cheek.
If I was an antihero, the choice would be easy.
But I wasn’t a villain.
At my core, I wanted to be a hero. Tragically so.
I would never be selfish enough to damn the people I loved. And maybe that wasn’t romantic love, but that didn’t diminish its power.
I thought of my family and any hold the book had on me vanished.
“There’s been a terrible mistake, Mr. Blaze. I— Well. I think I dreamed you up and this isn’t exactly real. I mean, it is, but it’s… complicated.”
His amusement grew. “I dreamed of you too.”
The way his eyes darkened hinted that his dreams were filthy.
“Unlikely,” Sloth snapped the same moment I said, “That’s not—”
I shook my head, hoping to clear it.
My hold on my resolve was tenuous at best.
There was way too much male energy in this tiny room, and I was getting really flustered as some of the scenes from Logan’s real book made a sudden reappearance in my mind.
The alpha had stamina.
And a dirty mouth that should require a warning label.
I needed to stop being influenced by the Trials and take control of my emotions before I stripped off my dress and things got weird.
I didn’t think Sloth would want a front-row seat to the debauchery I knew Logan Blaze could bring in the bedroom.
“The prince and I were just leaving…”
Logan’s focus snapped back to Sloth with a hardness that could cut through steel.
“Not a fucking chance.”
Murder flickered through those gold eyes as they locked on his perceived enemy, and a deep, menacing snarl erupted from his chest.
Perfect. I could check peace negotiator off the list of any future employment options. I’d accidentally just made things ten times worse.
Because if I was playing the role of his fated mate, that meant Sloth was the kidnapper he intended to steal me from.
As a shifter, Logan was probably an equal match for the prince.
If they began fighting…
Sloth’s dagger started to glow. “Now would be an ideal time to think of another story, Lore.”
Yes, it would be. Ten points to Lord Obvious. I gripped the phoenix tear in my fist. “I’m trying…”
“Tell me the first title that pops into your mind.”
His voice was cool and controlled. The perfect balm to my flames.
Oh, gods. Blaze took another step into the room.
His black wings flared wide, forcing Sloth to retreat, which made me stumble back onto the bed.
Logan’s hungry gaze landed on where I was sprawled on my back. He looked ready to pounce. I wish I hated it. Instead, I found my fingers curling at the edge of my hem, slowly tugging my skirts upward.
“Lore…”
I shoved myself back up, avoiding the bed and all the images flashing in my mind as the two males squared off.
I held the stone tighter, begging it to help me out.
“Pick a title, Lore!”
“Silverbeak’s Wrath!”
Shouting probably wasn’t necessary, but both males stopped posturing to glance at me. Blaze looked baffled, but Sloth simply shook his head. Same carnival, new act.
Literary snob.
I ignored them both.
Screwing my eyes closed in utter concentration, I kept silently repeating the title. I didn’t even open my eyes when I heard the first sounds of their fight.
Logan must have pulled a weapon from somewhere.
The clash of metal against metal was distracting, especially when it was accompanied by grunts as they traded blows.
I ignored the way the floor vibrated as they grappled closer, then charged away. I mentally begged my powers to just… do something.
Silverbeak’s Wrath. Come on, Silverbeak!
Footsteps thundered beside me.
I was yanked off my feet and whirled around so quickly that my head spun, leaving me disoriented and breathless as I struggled to regain my balance.
My eyes snapped open, and relief speared through me when I realized that Blondie had gotten me out of harm’s way from a falling chunk of the ceiling. He pivoted and surged ahead, gaining precious ground against Blaze.
He rammed into the dragon shifter and shoved him out the door.
Logan stumbled into the corridor, his big muscular body crashing hard into the wall.
“Try to think of something that anchors you in the story!” Sloth shouted, dodging a very wicked punch from the dragon shifter.
Right. Anchor. Oh! Anchors. Ocean.
I drew in a deep breath, closed my eyes again, and emptied my thoughts.
Just like when I’d built my imaginary wall, I finally found that creative part of my brain that desired to paint a vivid picture for me.
I snatched onto it, pouring all my energy into it. I let my imagination run wild, the same way I daydreamed the scenes from the books I read.
There was nothing I loved more than fully immersing myself in a story.
It felt as intrinsic to me as breathing. It gave me peace and joy. A release whenever life got too stressful. Books were my one true love.
The moment I cracked open a spine, I was transported to some wild new adventure. Filled with romance and danger and mystery.
I would be the fated mate of a wolf shifter, or the daughter of a king with a plot to rule the world who was sent to my family’s enemies, or a pirate on a doomed ship.
I found nothing more thrilling than reading those first few chapters of a book I just immediately connected with.
And when someone came into the library, asking for a book recommendation, it felt like I was handing them the keys to their very own castles when I told them about my latest obsession, and they came back the next morning after staying up all night to finish and were just as excited to borrow the next one.
I lived for those moments, the absolute certainty I’d found my next favorite read, and our love affair had just begun.
Maybe I would never marry, or fall into a wild, passionate courtship with someone, but that was okay. I loved a hundred characters and would never be lonely with them by my side. I didn’t need someone like Logan Blaze to make me feel desirable.
Suddenly, a small trickle of magic flowed through me and into the phoenix tear, or maybe the opposite was true. Whatever it was, it was fueled by my pure devotion to stories.
I felt the rolling waves beneath my feet.
Smelled the brine of the ocean. Heard the far-off sounds of gulls as we sailed farther from the safety of the shore.
“That’s it! Keep going, Lore.”
Thank the gods. I imagined the creaking planks, swore I really did feel the undulating waves beneath us. Rolling and swaying.
Someone grabbed my hand, and from the way my heart skipped a beat, I knew it was the prince.
Not even Logan Blaze—my top fictional crush—could wreck my pulse with a simple touch the way the sociopath could. No dark magic required.
And then, just as suddenly, the swaying stopped.
We were still shifting stories, but instead of hearing the rolling waves and gulls, new sounds emerged. A sea of surprised gasps…
No, not surprised. Scandalized.
“Lord Winters, I beg your pardon!”
The older woman’s chiding tone snapped me out of my post-story-shifting confusion; I couldn’t believe the Liber Noctem had taken over so easily.
One moment I’d felt the waves and smelled the ocean, and the next we were hauled out of the scene and dropped into a new one before I fully grasped what was happening. It was like something triggered the shift, and it had nothing to do with me.
I kept my eyes squeezed shut for another moment before finally braving our new reality.
I wished I hadn’t.
I found myself standing in only my unmentionables in the middle of the modiste’s shop, while several horrified noblewomen stared first at me, then at the man towering beside me on the dressmaker’s raised platform.
The prince wasn’t scantily clad, I noticed crossly.
He looked as fine and dapper as any high-society man out for an afternoon jaunt.
He wore a deep blue tailcoat, tan trousers that showed his muscular form, a starched white shirt, a perfectly tied cravat, and a pair of Hessian boots that gleamed.
I caught sight of myself in the mirror across from where we stood, and I decided right then and there I hated the Book of Nightmares.
I was wearing nothing but soft lace and ribbons and looked like a present waiting to be opened.
Garters held cream thigh-high stockings up that also featured little ribbons tied in neat bows.
Sloth peered down at me, his attention roaming all the way to my stockinged feet before he dragged it up and slipped his hand out of mine.
His mask of indifference settled firmly into place.
“And you.”