The Garden of Regret (The Twilight Court #19)

Chapter One

I woke up shivering and it had nothing to do with autumn fading into winter. The Twilight Court experienced seasons in line with those of California on Earth. So, although it was November, it was just a little chilly in the mornings. Nothing cold enough to make me tremble.

No, that was Star's doing.

“Fuck,” I whispered as I slipped out of bed, sliding down to the foot since I had been sleeping between two of my husbands—Killian and Severriel.

It was nearly twilight, but even though the two sleeping men were as connected to Twilight as I was, I doubted they'd wake when the power surge hit us. They were exhausted from fatherhood and from making love to me for hours before bed.

Standing beneath the ghostly pre-dawn light that came through the crystal dome of my tower, I glanced back at the bed.

Killian and Severriel looked amazing lying there, sprawled among the bedding like satiated gods.

Sever had banished his wings to make more room for us, but the muscles needed to fly were still there, slabbed over his broad shoulders.

His chest, half revealed, was pretty amazing as well.

Hell, even the foot that poked out from the bottom of the blanket was beautiful.

But his leonine mane of hair hung wild around his regal face, hinting at the rebel in him.

Sever had once been King Severriel of Heaven, Metatron of Anu, and it showed.

Across the space I had inhabited between them, Killian looked more real, but that was only because his green, snake eyes were shut and he was on his back, hiding the delicate wings that were embedded in his back—useless but still beautiful and a sign of his fey heritage.

Kill's hair was wild too, and the rich auburn color made it seem even more so.

My heart clenched just to look at his sleeping face, so human and so handsome.

His full lips softened his chiseled jaw, but they couldn't soften the rest of that hard body.

Kill wasn't as big as Sever, but he was Earth-big and his muscles were plenty impressive enough.

Sometimes, Sever and Kill would wake when I did, as if they could sense my need.

Those mornings were beautiful expressions of love that chased away my dreams and reset my determination to resist King Astaroth of Hell.

But they also filled me with guilt. Not that the guilt ever left these days.

It was my constant, gut-twisting companion.

The silk robe I wore in summer had been exchanged for silk velvet, a nod to the season.

I slipped into it and shivered more. After the dreams, I was always extra sensitive, but going naked would have been worse.

With shaking hands, I tied the belt. You'd think with all the sex I had in my head, I'd be satisfied.

But it turns out that mentally making love to someone only makes your body crave a physical release.

“You can do this,” I whispered as I held my hands out to look at them in accusation. “You love them more than him. Get control of yourself, Sloane!”

Yeah, I was reverting to old Extinguisher habits, trying to mentally slap myself into line. I had five amazing husbands. Five! I had a child with each of them. No one should be able to tempt me away from them.

But Star wasn't just anyone.

I couldn't even blame Anu anymore. He had removed his influence from us. Of course, that was after he had tortured Astaroth with desire for me. And me. Yeah, I'd been tortured too, but it was easier for me to deal with it. I had five men to comfort and calm me with their love. Star had no one.

My husbands had been very understanding, all things considered.

They had allowed Star and me to be a little more than friendly just to get him through the urges.

Since Danu's Call or Anu's influence had brought them to me, they understood how difficult it could be to resist the urging of a god.

But, as I said, Anu had stopped pushing Star and me together at my request.

“Destiny, once set, is not easily averted,” Anu's voice slid through my memories, taunting me.

My scry phone started chiming right as the memory played.

Frankly, I was surprised it had taken him this long.

After every dream—every intimate dream—King Astaroth of Hell scried me.

The first time I dreamed of him, it had started sweetly.

He vowed to be content with sharing me. We had made love in his bed in the Royal Castle of Hell, and it had been wondrous.

Soul-completing. But then Star shifted into his Demon form.

With his clawed hand around my throat, he had said something that haunted me through every dream that followed.

“I'm not sharing, Seren. You're mine!”

The chiming came again.

I snatched up the phone and rushed into the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind me, I locked it and then went into the water closet and shut that door as well.

Star didn't have a scry phone, only a letaq—the Demon version of a watch phone—so he wouldn't see me.

But I didn't want my husbands to hear us.

And this is why I was drowning in guilt.

After I slid a finger across the slice of enchanted crystal ball, held in a leather phone case, the crystal filled with mist. “Star, stop scrying me,” I whispered.

“If I'm going through this every night, we're going to fucking talk about it every day, Seren,” Star snarled.

I wasn't the only one losing patience with our shared dreams. At first, I thought Star was doing it on purpose, that he was entering my dreams to taunt me.

Especially after the way he laughed at me the first time it happened.

But when I confronted him after the second dream, he denied it.

His responses since then had become increasingly annoyed, so I was inclined to believe him.

The once refined, sardonic, too-elegant-too-care King Astaroth of Hell had transformed into a beast so badly in need of a rutting that he alternated between viciousness, blatant sexuality, and—the one that hurt me the worst—exhausted acceptance.

“There's nothing to talk about.”

His voice dropped into a purr. “And yet you keep answering my scries.”

So, it was the Lothario today. Great. “Star, it's been months. We need to—”

“Eight,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“It's been eight months, love,” he drawled. “Eight months of you coming to me in my dreams every night and fulfilling every sexual fantasy I've ever had. Frankly, I didn't know you had it in you, Seren.”

I went still. It was the first time he had accused me of going to him.

And the fantasies? I thought Star had been reading my mind and enacting all of my fantasies.

I mean, the things we had done in our dreams .

. . I shivered again. But they were all in our heads.

We couldn't stop them once we were in that dreamscape.

At least, I couldn't. I had tried. Every night, I tried to remember to say no.

To leave. That I loved five men who weren't Astaroth.

But as it was in dreams, everything seemed real, and being with Star seemed right.

“Have you tried to walk away from me? I mean, in the dream?” I asked.

“Walk away from you?” Star's voice dropped even further. “How the fuck can I do that, Seren? You come into my bedroom and say things . . .” He made a rough sound, somewhere between a moan and a growl. “And you expect me to what—throw you out? Of. My. Mind?!”

“All right, I'm sorry,” I hissed. “I don't mean to say those things, Star. They just come out. It's as if I have no—”

“Resistance,” he finished for me. “I know, love. And still, you expect me to resist.”

“I don't expect anything. I was just asking because I've tried and failed.”

Star made a huff of sound and then admitted, “I've tried laying a hakhil around myself before I go to sleep.”

“You have?”

“Yes, and it didn't work.”

“I've tried using Light to protect me.”

“Of course you have,” he muttered. “Enough of this, Seren. Nothing can keep us apart. We've proven that.”

“Then we have to try harder.”

“Seren,” Star whispered. “I spend all day thinking about the coming night. Fuck, I automatically adjust my sleep schedule to match yours when you . . .”

“When I visit my husbands,” I finished for him. “I know. I'm just as frustrated as you. When this first started, and I went to visit Raza, I expected to have a night free of these dreams. But there you were.”

The sexy drawl came again. “My body knows when you're in need.” His voice rolled over my skin.

I gasped as my overly sensitized flesh, still wet and aching from what we'd done in our dreams, responded and sent me over the edge into a mini-orgasm.

Star made a happy purr. “Did you just come for me, my naughty little star? While awake?”

Yeah, we were both stars by name—Seren meaning “Star” in Welsh and Astaroth having it right there in the middle—and he loved that. Star often recited poetry about it or something nastier than poetry.

“Star, I can't go on like this.”

He went silent for a moment. “I know.”

“Oh, thank the Gods. Maybe if we—”

“Come to me in the flesh, Seren. Or I will come for you. Do not think you're safe in Fairy. I will fucking tear through the worlds to claim what's mine. You have thirteen days.”

The scry phone went dark.

“Star? Star! Son of a biscuit!” I snapped the leather cover closed. I was shaking again, but this time, it wasn't sexual.

I was scared.

Also, thirteen? Was that a Demon thing, or was Star trying to be cryptic? Motherfucker!