Verena
I wake shivering on the floor of Rhinestone's creepy journal room.
A flickering candle sits on the cold ground beside me, casting shadows that dance in the chilling, utter quiet. In one of my hands, I idly grip the velvet that used to cloak the soul-baring mirror.
Releasing the velvet, I rise to my feet and hug my thin nightgown tighter around myself. Even though I dread what I'll see, I can't stop myself from peering into the single shard remaining at the top of the shadow-filled frame.
My own eye stares back at me.
The longer I look into this mirror, the more it makes sense. The darkness. The huge, missing fragments. Having it right in front of me like this forces me to face the bitter incompleteness I've tried to ignore for as long as I can remember.
I act whole just to get by and survive, but it's a lie. This mirror shows the truth.
And the truth is, I am this broken.
When I blink, the other me doesn't.
A chill creeps up my spine as I suddenly wonder if I'm looking at me, or the evil queen.
"Why am I here?" I whisper. "How did I wake up in the wrong world?"
The eye in the mirror finally blinks before a whisper fills the room. It's layered as if I'm hearing it from multiple people at once, making it nearly impossible to pick out convoluted words.
“…blood…power…fragment…gift…return...”
"Wait—return? How?" I try to demand the disconcerting mirror. "How can I get home?"
The whispers grow louder, building into a chant. I cover my ears and try to sprint from the room—but the second I step through the green door, I'm back in those hellishly cold woods, stained in blood as I race away from him all over again.
My heart pounds, the terror nipping at my heels—
Until I jolt awake for real this time when the carriage rolls over a bump.
"You dozed off again," Eris murmurs, watching me closely from the opposite wall of the reflective interior. "Not surprising, I suppose, given how poorly you've slept at every inn."
It's true. I've slept like shit for the last couple of nights.
I blame the nightmares, which now almost always include that stupid fucking mirror. At this point, I'm beginning to wonder if my bad dreams will just keep getting worse the longer I'm trapped in the wrong world.
Blinking away the grogginess, I straighten and stretch out the soreness in my neck and the rest of my body.
As usual, my throat is burning, empty stomach clenching angrily—and as usual, I try my best to ignore it.
I pull aside the lacy curtain to peek out the small window. Darkness is falling over the towering trees of the Loomdark in the distance, past a long stretch of golden meadow.
"How long did I sleep?" I yawn.
"Not long. We're well past Aurefeld's border, so the caravan should stop at the last inn of the journey soon."
This is the third and last full day of travel. So far it's been relatively monotonous, but we're supposed to arrive at Aurefeld Castle around noon tomorrow.
Thank god, because I don't think my ass has ever been this sore.
I didn't go on many road trip vacations as a kid, on account of my divorced parents always claiming it was the others' job to waste money on crap like that—but this trip has made it clear I'm not a road trip kind of gal. It's been long and grueling.
It probably would have been boring, too, but I'm lucky enough to have a gorgeous mirror companion to bug whenever I want.
Before I drop the lace back over the window, I catch a glimpse of the Huntsman.
Since the carriage is a little cramped for his impressive stature, and since I was having a hard time keeping my hands off of him and my fangs out of his neck, I ordered him to guard the caravan until I gave him another order.
Sue me. I needed some space to breathe and de-hornify, and this was the best thing I could think of to occupy my Viking-like protector.
As a result, Wulf has spent most of the last two days on horseback, riding a small distance away from the Isenmerian knights and guards escorting the caravan.
He sometimes rides closer to check on me, just like he is right now.
A quiver of arrows sits on his back, since he's been hunting rabbits along the way for the others to eat.
Even this little glimpse of my Viking-like protector makes my pulse skyrocket. I can practically smell minty blackberries and hear the rasp of his low voice all over again.
Allow me to sate you.
You bewitch me, vantaei.
Lord have mercy…on Wulf's dick, if I ever run out of self-control around him.
Which absolutely can't happen, or else I might accidentally bite him again and drink way too much, like I did last time.
I've turned down feeding on him for the last couple of days, even giving him an order not to add anything to the queen's wine I packed for the trip.
Wulf accepted the order with a clenched jaw. Eris again reminded me that I promised to drink blood daily—but my mind is made up.
I'm not feeding on the Huntsman again.
The poor guy needs time to recover from being my walking blood bag. Maybe I'll figure out some other way to feed once we reach Aurefeld.
Sadly, the odds are probably low that they'll have a local blood bank or AA for vampires.
Maybe Cinderella can help me go home before I have to feed again. Fingers crossed.
Absentmindedly, I rub my neck, trying like hell not to think about the only thing that will get rid of this burn in my throat.
"Thirsty, Fairest?" Eris asks gently.
"When am I not?" I sigh before offering him a tight smile. "Distract me more, please? I'll owe you."
Eris has spent the last few days telling me all about Aurefeld to distract me from the thirst and the never-ending bumps in the Thornpass road.
Apparently, Aurefeld is the wealthiest kingdom by far, due to their temperate farmlands and bountiful quarries.
He says the only thing Aurefeldans love more than gold is good entertainment, particularly drama and scandal.
According to him, their patron faerie is Gilda, the personification of Greed. Since they strive to acquire as much as they can in life, they're rarely content with enough of anything—wealth, amusement, parties, attention, sex, good food…
Honestly, they sound like some of the people I brushed shoulders with in New York while I was studying at the Fashion Institute of Technology.
But I learned there that what some people deem to be greed, others just see as motivation. Drive. Ambition, for better or worse.
Basically, they sound like my kind of people, right after the vain Isenmerians.
"You already owe me that third promise," Eris points out, drawing my attention back to him.
I realize his gaze is resting on my lips, and I can't resist teasing.
"Oh, right. I did make you an open-ended promise, didn't I? That was before I knew you wanted to be my mirror pimp."
"It's well past time for that particular joke to die," he sighs.
"Not by a long shot, my pretty Adonis. But since you're in there until we find your body, what are you going to ask for? I know you're a kinky little freak, just like me, so will you ask for a strip show?"
He's perplexed. "Strip show?"
Fighting a smile, I sit up and slowly tease down one sleeve, angling to roll my naked shoulder back and forth with a saucy wink.
"Now just imagine some lacy lingerie underneath."
It started as poking fun, but I realize Eris's attention is now riveted on the way this pose has bared the tops of my tits, pressing them together.
And maybe it's my own ridiculous libido, or maybe it's having that opalescent gaze slowly tracing my body—but I slide the sleeve down further, nearly enough to bare my tit, just to watch him swallow hard.
My voice is getting breathy because I'm suddenly dying to see this man lose his ethereal composure.
"I could do that, you know. Give you a little peep show."
What's the harm in him getting off to watching me, especially since I clearly enjoy it?
It doesn't have to mean anything. He's probably pent up, all alone in the mirror realm. Friends or not, I could give him some benefits for helping me.
I start pulling down the other sleeve. "You don't even have to call it in as the third promise. Just stroke yourself off while I strip."
It seems to take a lot of effort, but Eris meets my gaze.
"I can't."
"Don't get noble on me now, Mr. Bathtime Voyeur," I joke. "If I like it, and you like it—"
"Like is far too weak a word, but I meant I can't…get off. At least, not in the mirror realm."
Oh, shit.
I fix my dress at once. As much as I love teasing, I'm not about to torture a man who can't do anything to relieve blue balls.
"You seriously can't orgasm? God, that sucks. We really need to find your body—for a lot of reasons, but also so you can get some la petite mort in your life."
Eris visibly decides not to ask what that means. "Finding my body may take some time. But when I do step into the physical world soon, perhaps we can…"
"We can what?" I ask, tipping my head.
"We could…" My mirror companion trails off, running his hands through his iridescent hair. "I thought—no, I hoped that we might…Crones, why is it so fucking warm?"
Eris fans himself, struggling with words. He clears his throat, straightens his poet shirt, and meets my eye, but he's clearly flustered.
I fight a smile. "No one has ever been this adorably awkward while trying to suggest a casual hook-up before."
In fact, I've known guys in my world who just texted dtf when they were horny. No capitalization, no punctuation, no interest in emotional connection—just hunting for a willing fuck and then calling women bitches if they couldn't get laid after literally three letters' worth of effort.
Compared to the raging case of nonchalant apathy crippling the dating world where I come from, I much prefer Eris's obvious butterflies. The way he can't stop watching me everywhere I go.
The way he kind of…pines.
"Casual?" His expression turns stormy. "That's not what—"
His sentence is snuffed out by the shout of the coachman before the carriage jolts to a halt.