Verena
It's official. I've decided to adopt Ida as my fairy godmother.
It's only been a week since I moved the feisty old woman into her own private quarters in Isenmere Castle, but she's already making my fashion dreams come true.
When I showed her my technical drawings of gowns for Snow White, Anika, Ingrid, and a couple for myself, she declared that we would need more skilled hands on deck to get everything sewn immediately.
Merrick took one look at all the gorgeous wispfloss she brought and happily rounded up a couple dozen seamstresses from nearby towns and villages to meet with Ida.
All my spare time is spent sitting by the mirror in the queen's chambers with Eris trying to teach me to read, so I didn't get to see the interview process.
Merrick gave me the play-by-play, including that more than half of them left the castle in tears after Ida called them all "clumsy, inept, ass-kissing halfwits sent by Death himself to drive her to an early grave with loud, foolish questions. "
Luckily, Ida seems to tolerate me.
With her new team of apprentices, that lady works fast. She's already delivered a few gowns for me to put the final touches on—including one for me and the gorgeous silver mermaid-style dress I just finished adding a ruffled back onto.
Setting the sewing needle down on the writing desk, I shake out the cramp in my hand and flop onto the queen's massive bed. I still haven't changed out of the gauzy nightgown I wore last night, because I've been so busy sewing.
For a moment, I stare at the carved woodwork ceiling overhead, painted in jewel tones reminiscent of the stained glass throughout this castle.
But of course, my gaze lingers on the red paint.
I swallow the insistent burn in my throat, trying not to think about it.
Wulf has started adding his blood to the queen's enchanted wine in the lair, instead of the mulled wine from the kitchen. At this point, I'm beginning to worry my poor Huntsman is anemic.
The new concoction curbs my thirst a bit more—but it's still not enough.
I'm so fucking thirsty, I swear I can sometimes hear the pulse in Wulf's neck whenever he's just standing nearby, guarding me.
It's the worst when Eris is patiently teaching me to read. All those evil little squiggles in Queen Rhinestone's journals shake their asses and grind together as they taunt me—and meanwhile, I retain nothing because all I can think about is blood.
Wulf's blood.
Dripping from my chin. Running down my throat. Flavoring our kiss with mint and blackberries as we tangle in this bed again, sweating and gasping as he uses his big hands to press my knees to my ears and pounds me with that thick cock, moaning and fucking me harder until—
"The Privy Council will arrive soon."
At the sound of Eris's voice in the mirror, I yank my hand away from between my thighs where I was starting to rub myself through the nightgown.
Now that I know Eris isn't a non-sexual spirit, it feels wrong to flick the bean with him watching.
And I do mean wrong in the fun way, because the thought of putting on a show of self-love for that ethereally handsome iridescent Adonis to get off to is…hot.
Really, really hot.
Bad Verena. Stop fantasizing about fairytale men before you do something stupid.
I sit upright on the bed. "Please tell me you just barely materialized half a second ago."
"I just barely materialized half a second ago."
"You haven't been standing there for a couple of minutes, watching?" I squint.
Eris shakes his head, appearing perfectly innocent—until his opalescent gaze gives him away, flickering to my rumpled skirt for a millisecond.
Yep. He definitely saw me starting to get horned up.
"Damn you, Beetlejuice. Tonight, I'm covering that mirror to get a little me time in," I grumble.
"Or you could simply have Wulf satisfy you."
"We've established how wrong that would—wait, why are you suggesting that? I thought you…you know." I gesture between us before finishing lamely with, "Kind of might have a thing for me."
"There's no kind of or might about it," he says firmly, pinning me with a look that makes my stomach spin like a drunk ballerina.
"But what does that have to do with this?
I want you to have whatever you need, including pleasure.
And while I'm stuck in this mirror, I trust no one but Wulf with you. "
"Now might be a good time to remind you that man tortured me."
"Unwittingly, and he's atoning for that mistake with a lifetime of servitude," he shrugs. "As I see it, Wulf's magical pledge makes him the safest person you can possibly be around, in bed or otherwise."
"You're serious? You want me to fuck Wulf?" I clarify, sure we're miscommunicating somewhere.
"So long as you leave the mirror uncovered."
What a sneaky, kinky voyeur.
Not that I can call him out, since I've been having the same pervy thoughts.
I shake off that tempting idea and get off the bed, needing to get back to reality—or whatever this world is.
Turning the makeshift mannequin I adjusted to Anika's specifications, I show off the finished dress with a dramatic flourish.
"What do you think?"
Eris traces my outline through the glass. "I think I would enjoy seeing it on you."
"It's for Anika."
"And I'm sure she's lovely in her way, but if you want my raving review, allow me to imagine it clinging to your body instead. I could write poetry about a dress made of filthy sackcloth, so long as it's you who wears it."
Wow.
I guess since the cat's out of the bag, he's going all in. Which means my poor, weak self-control stands even less of a chance.
I clap slowly. "Ladies and gentlemen, the next William Shakespeare. Try not to flatter me too much, or the queen's crown won't fit my head anymore."
There's a soft knock at the door. When I quickly throw on a dress to answer it, it's Merrick letting me know the first few Privy Council members are here. He says they'll have a leisurely lunch in the dining hall while they wait for the rest of the members to arrive.
It's officially time to get Anika ready.
Thanking Merrick, I don a veil and the crown to leave the queen's chambers.
As I stride down a hall toward Anika and Ingrid's rooms near Snow White's, Eris keeps up through stained glass windows.
He fills me in on everything he overheard from the council members he was spying on. It's mostly just speculation about Rhinestone's strange "change of heart" and conjecture about how they can use it to their own benefit.
"So long as none of them are plotting to kill me, that's all dandy." I turn into the next hallway and frown. "Actually, I do find it a little weird that no one else has tried to kill me again. I was collecting near-death experiences left and right when I first got here, but now it's radio silence."
"Perhaps it's because you're steadily altering the queen's reputation."
I doubt that, but I hum. "Perhaps. Hey, where's Beowulf?"
As much as that man follows me around like a dedicated shadow, he keeps vanishing at random intervals without a word, only to show up later with no explanation.
"He's laundering his clothes."
I snort. What on earth could my big protector be doing that Eris would feed me such an obvious excuse?
I'm just about to step into the small upper courtyard, but I freeze as one possible explanation hits me.
"Oh, my god. He's hooking up with someone, isn't he?"
"No. I told you, he's—"
I throw my hands up like they'll prevent the strange hurt trying to get to me.
"Never mind, don't tell me. It's none of my business if he's sticking it in every other lucky woman in this castle. I don't own him, and we're not a thing, so he can fuck whoever he wants."
It's Eris's turn to snort. "Wulf only fucks his hand, usually while standing guard outside the blue door when you're bathing. Which is understandable, because you do moan quite a bit about how nice it feels. Not that I'm complaining, for I also enjoy your sweet sounds."
The thought of them both listening to me bathe makes a flush climb into my skin.
I can't help imagining sneaking out of the hot spring next time, opening the door, and pretending to be surprised by the sight of that mouthwatering bear of a man stroking his impressive dick.
Maybe he would let me suck on it while Eris gets off on watching.
Or hell, what if I just give in and hook up with Wulf? What would be so bad about some rough, fun sex with a hot Viking, just to blow off the steam building in me like a damn pressure cooker?
It would be bad because he's magically compelled to obey everything you command, you unscrupulous horndog, my conscience buts in.
Right. That.
"Sometimes I hate having morals," I grumble aloud.
"They seem like quite the affliction," Eris agrees.
With another sigh, I start to enter the courtyard.
But I pause at the threshold when I spy Anika. The stunning soon-to-be-titled lady is leaning back against a stone wall, smirking up at—
"Holy cannoli, who is that?" I whisper.
Eris is hanging out in the warped reflection of a shiny wall sconce near me. He disappears for a second to take a closer look before reappearing.
"That is Mikkel, the executioner."
"Shut the front door," I gasp. "That's what he looks like under the hood? My god, he's the doppelganger of Jeremy Meeks."
"Who?"
"He's hot," I clarify.
Eris is stern at once. "I already told you, right now I trust no one but Wulf with you."
"For a self-appointed pimp, you're pretty stingy. Why watch me only hump one guy when you could watch me get spit roasted by two instead?"
He starts to argue with my sarcasm before pausing, tilting his head. I realize he's actually considering that mental image.
"Oh my god, that was a joke. Besides, you iridescent menace, Anika has dibs on Mikkel. Look," I add, gesturing toward the two models.
Anika twists the front of Mikkel's dark tunic. Whatever she says next, it makes him lean closer to whisper in her ear.
"They're clearly into each other, and I would never break the girl code. Not to mention, if those two procreate, nothing in this world or mine would stop their gorgeous ankle-biter mini-mes."
"Perhaps if you stay in this world long enough, you can design a gown for her to wear at their wedding," Eris muses.
"How dare you use my love for fashion to fit your agenda?" I joke before narrowing my gaze at him. "But seriously, I'm still not happy about you trying to get me to stay here."
"What if you could be far safer and happier here than you ever were, alone in your world?" he murmurs.
If I had a guarantee that I could actually live freely here, without having to be a vampire or worrying about the queen's terrible fate potentially being forced on me somehow...
Eris tenses, tipping his head. "Your Huntsman calls me elsewhere."
"Elsewhere must be bro code for some very satisfied scullery maid's bed," I grumble.
Eris cracks up. "The scullery maids are twice as terrified of him as anyone else.
You must not realize how ludicrous you sound, imagining Wulf to be even remotely pleasant to anyone besides you.
Last time he caught another woman eyeing him a few days ago, he made a show of adjusting himself while gazing at your backside when you weren't looking. It sent a very effective message."
I'm too taken aback to respond in time before Eris disappears from the sconce.
At roughly the same moment, I hear footsteps and peek around the doorway into the courtyard again to see that Mikkel just left.
What better way to take my mind off my messy feelings than to pester Anika about hers?
When I step into the courtyard, her dark gaze meets mine, and she struggles to tame her smile.
She doesn't bother bowing or curtsying, which is a relief. I'm still trying to break Ingrid's habit of doing that whenever I'm alone with them.
Not that I've been alone with Anika or Ingrid much lately, since I'm trying not to get closer to anyone else before I leave this world.
I still visit Snow White sometimes, but it's getting really hard to look into her smiling face without my heart getting all achy at the thought of us living in different worlds again.
"My uncle told me the meeting will begin soon," Anika says. "I was coming to find you."
I pull back my veil to grin at her, pushing away the thoughts of the metaphorical walls I've been putting up.
"I see you got distracted by your future husband. Looks like you two are pretty cozy."
Anika is unabashed, looking in the direction the hot executioner just stalked off to.
"We're fighting, actually."
"That could mean hot angry sex and hot make-up sex, if you play your cards right."
She laughs, leaving the wall to approach me. "It's fortunate that I'm good at playing cards, then."
"Mind if I ask what the fight is about?"
"We got carried away last night. With kissing, not sex," she interjects quickly when she sees me about to clap. "I won't jump into bed with Mikkel when my heart is still held by someone in my past. He knows my feelings, but every time we argue about it, he insists that he likes…"
"He likes what?"
Anika twists her lips to one side, yet another expression on her that could belong in a photoshoot.
Then she regards me seriously. "I would not share this with anyone else. But since you're so open about these things, I feel you may be the right person to talk to—so long as it stays between us."
"I'm a vault," I promise.
She lowers her voice to a whisper. "Mikkel likes to…share."
God, I see what you've done for others.
I place my hands on her shoulders. "Anika. Please tell me you're at least considering it."
"Theoretically. It's complicated."
"I won't pry, but please tell me the other person you like isn't quite as gorgeous as the two of you because the universe isn't ready for that level of hotness, even if I am."
A snort escapes her before she looks around as if ensuring we're completely alone.
Then she puts her hands on my shoulders, mirroring me. Abruptly, she becomes serious.
"When will you tell me who you really are?"
Talk about a topic change.
I sigh. "I'm not even going to pretend I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't tried very hard to act like that bitch around you or Ingrid."
"Ingrid has convinced herself that the queen was secretly good all along, and was only deemed evil because of Schultz spreading nasty rumors.
She still doesn't know you were the man who tried to defend us in that alley—but I know you can disguise yourself as others, so tell me.
Is that how you have replaced the queen? "
"Not a bad guess, but…"
You know what? Fuck it.
Snow White already knows the truth, and I trust Merrick with my life. Why not let his astute niece in on what she already suspects?
Besides, I wouldn't mind a soon-to-be noble lady joining my inner circle.
I smile, offering my elbow. "How about I tell you a certain story I've already told Snow White while we get ready to make these primped peacocks fight each other to welcome you to court?"
Smiling back, Anika links her arm with mine as we leave the courtyard.