6. Sabre

CHAPTER 6

SAbrE

A scream.

The delicious sound has me frozen, completely thrusting out any of the thoughts I'd just been having and replacing them with hunger .

The sound is faint, though, as if I might have imagined it. And when I peer beyond the veil that exists between this world and the world of dreams, I catch something that shouldn't be there.

A shimmer swirls through the room, elusive, weak, but interesting. It travels through the objects surrounding me as if it can't interact with them.

Red velvet furniture.

Gaudy diamond chandeliers.

A bar I probably utilize far too much—and is unfortunately stocked with booze instead of blood.

The air is heavy and the colors are muted as I skillfully shift my perception and try to track the disturbance, a talent that's more seamless for those in the royal line of Strigoi. I'm a dreamwalker, a vampire who feasts on dreams.

My medium? Blood. The elixir of life holds the code of a being's past, present, and future, if one knows where to look.

And it seems that I'm the one dreaming now, because the enticing shimmer that's vibrating through the air can't be real.

I'm going mad.

Whenever I dreamwalk, my surroundings take on an otherworldly distortion. The half-empty glass on the counter turns black, making the beverage look like shiny shards of coal. Blood runs down the walls. Given I'm peering into the dream plane, that's likely a reflection of my own debilitating hunger, as is the strange shimmer that's taunting me.

My hunger has grown over the years, even before the famine started. It's entirely my family's fault. My father can't maintain the needs of our kingdom, so the drain has already fallen to me. I have the burden of the throne with none of the perks. It's rumored that Morpheus, our God, gave us power over dreams, enabling us to better locate our prey.

It's a gift we have abused, because whenever we find a human with a powerful dream, they become a sacrifice to the blood fields that rest just outside my window.

The fields that require magic to tend to, to keep the mind buried in the soil alive.

Magic that my father, as King, should provide. Instead, he has grown weak, and he has been drawing power from the closest in his family line to keep the blood fields from withering entirely.

Namely, me.

And it's been going on for quite some time. My fangs are larger than any Strigoi's and no human seems to satisfy me. Hunger is my constant companion. I can always feel the subtle draw of the throne to feed the fields.

If I could just leave this Godsforsaken realm for twenty-four hours, I'd feel so much better.

Alas, I can't leave. I'd just be tracked down and dragged back home. My blood is linked to this place. My scent is easily traceable. Unless I find an entirely different dimension where no one can follow me, I'll never find the reprieve I desperately desire.

I'm grateful for Cage. I watch him as he stares out the window, his long blond hair in gentle waves around his shoulders. He's not human, but his blood at least tastes good to me. Without him, I probably would have gone mad years ago.

But my hunger has ripened to new heights after hearing that sound. It came to me like a punch in the chest, making me weak for the satisfaction it promises.

The scream must have been my imagination, because there's nothing out of sorts. My hunger has turned so ravenous that I'm now creating echoes in the dream plane.

The effect of my delusion is likely amplified since I'm in the Strigoi Palace, which resides in the Morpheus Kingdom, one of many kingdoms in the Hell Fae Realm, and ours is a place where dreamwalking requires the least amount of energy.

The veil is thin here. That's why the Strigoi made it our home. But sometimes it backfires when I desire something too strongly.

My room looks like it always does when I'm peering through the veil. The ridiculously expensive furniture crowds a bookshelf. I added it when I discovered Cage had an affinity for human fiction.

The books are glassy and cracked in the dream plane, but that is normal. Books are broken-off pieces of the souls which sit outside a person's body, a trait that's visible in the Dream Realm.

Nothing is out of place.

No one is here.

My observation doesn't explain why my body has reacted, though. Imagined or not, the sound of such a delicious meal has my fangs growing thick in my mouth and my cock swelling even though I just had sex.

"Did you hear that?" Cage asks from his favorite brooding window. His long fingers pause in buttoning his white silk shirt as he stares outside.

Except, he's not gazing over the blood fields that are pitifully sparse for the season. The famine has been going on for far too long, placing a burden on my shoulders that I'd rather not deal with.

Even though I'm the Strigoi Prince, it's a burden I must bear.

I'd much rather run away, forgetting my duties and the reason Cage and I can never publicly be together. I'm a Prince. He's the son of a rival line, one that is on the verge of war with mine for the throne.

Ironically, because I haven't found a mate.

Cage hasn't, either. But his family seems to think that if he had the blessing of the Strigoi throne, then he would magically find a female and produce an heir—and magic—to keep up with the demands of our kingdom.

We're a perfect match made in Hell.

Neither of us is in a hurry to find a mate. If we did, that would ensure we'd be trapped here forever. No more outings. No more liaisons when we can sneak away. We'd be locked down for good.

Cage helps me deal with my hunger, and I help him forget all the blood on his hands while we occasionally escape to the mortal realm for the rare escapade. While there are human females in the palace, they're untouched virgins my father hides away in an attempt to breed a new Queen. It doesn't work that way, but my father believes in old legends enough to try. I haven't even told Cage about them because I don't need more reasons for him to judge me. It's a problem I'll inherit when I'm King.

And when I'm King, I hope I can do something about that, and the many other flaws in this kingdom. I'm not hopeful, though. I have a feeling the throne will corrupt me.

I'm not as strong as Cage, even if I'd never admit that to him.

My future is a bleak nightmare waiting to consume me. Escaping it just for a little while is an indulgence I allow. One where I find a willing human female and then ask Cage to join us. We share her blood and her dreams, as well as her body. It's enjoyable enough, at least for a few nights.

But when her dreams turn sour, we always have to return home. We give her our blood, wipe her mind clean, and send her on her way.

Last time, we were almost caught. Last time, we almost killed our toy.

I'm too hungry.

Cage is too frustrated.

We shouldn't leave again.

But the famine has stretched on, and we have kept to our posts, leaving us both hungry for a proper meal.

Cage shouldn't have even come tonight, but the kingdom is distracted, so he took the risk.

Because he's just as hungry as I am.

Maybe that's why we're hearing things that don't exist, like a soul calling us from the dream plane even though that shouldn't be possible.

Souls don't call us.

We call them .

But a soul that sounded that delicious would be wonderfully distracting. I find myself working my jaw as my fangs ache for a bite. I've never had a female's blood that tasted right . There was always something wrong, like a sour note, or a strange aftertaste.

Because to a Strigoi, only a compatible mate's blood is perfect. I've always imagined what she might taste like.

Sugary, sweet caramel?

Or maybe more reserved, like a fragrant tea.

Or peaches, my hunger supplies.

Cage tastes like dark chocolate steeped in whiskey, not peaches.

Overpowering, but intoxicating.

The closest I've ever come to truly enjoying my food is biting Cage—but he's not human. He and I are both dreamwalkers who feed on blood laced with dreams, so exchanging our blood with each other leaves us hungry and dissatisfied.

I'm just starving for a proper meal. That's all.

Yet, Cage is searching the horizon for the source of that sound—even though I know it can't be real. He's been perfectly still in a way only an assassin of the Van Drakken bloodline can be.

His eyes are bright red, reflecting so brightly in the window that I can't deny we both heard the same thing. He's peering into the dream plane, too, or else I'd be seeing his pretty blues reflecting back at me.

If that scream wasn't real, then why did he hear the scream, too? Am I really so hungry that I manifested the sound?

That I manifested a mate ?

Because that scream hinted at a soul worth devouring. One I would thoroughly enjoy for eternity.

My stomach twists with renewed hunger, but I don't want Cage to be slighted. We just had sex, and this is how I respond? Admitting I heard the scream would require telling him my theory.

I'm dreaming of a mate.

I need a mate.

Meaning he and I can never be together again once that happens. Not if I stay here. Our families would rather kill each other than unite.

We would have to run away, but there's nowhere else for "abominations" like us to go. That's why the Hell Fae Realm exists in the first place.

That's why I should be grateful to Morpheus for his gifts, to Lucifer for this kingdom, but I feel sour toward them both.

Morpheus is my God.

Lucifer is my King. All the kingdoms report to him, including that of my father, King Nos—who Lucifer actually calls his lieutenant. It's a reminder of our hierarchy.

Lucifer made his Hell Fae Bride Trials because he cares for his subjects. I should be happy with his efforts.

But none of his brides appeal to me.

And admitting that out loud would be both blasphemous and ungrateful.

"I didn't hear anything," I lie, then turn back to the portfolio I was flipping through a few moments ago.

Lucifer had sent one to each of us, hoping to entice us to select potential Hell Fae Brides for ourselves. All of the Hell kingdoms are celebrating, and I feel like I should be, too.

This is my chance to stop the starvation. Stop the famine.

Stop the fighting.

Lucifer listened. He's trying to fix the problems. He's a good ruler, and if I told him it wasn't good enough, I'd be the ungrateful asshole that half the Strigoi paint me out to be.

Between the famine, the rising animosity among rival bloodlines, and the hunger that has been consuming me, a mate would be a welcome solution. I could relieve my withered father from the throne and start a new generation. The magic of a new Strigoi child royal would rejuvenate our lands.

Which is precisely the reason war is on our doorstep. I haven't taken a mate yet.

Mostly because none appeal to me. I can't mate with just any female. It has to be a true soul connection down to the compatibility of our blood and our dreams, or else my body will reject her if I continue to feed.

This isn't something I can fake.

It has to be real.

I scan the portfolio again, hoping that one of the candidates will stand out to me. Many of the females are half-human, though not all of them are. That is my only requirement, as far as I'm aware.

I scan the genetic labels next to each pretty face's name.

Human–Hell Fae hybrid.

Human–Fortune Fae–Elemental Fae mix.

Lunar Fae–Midnight Fae–human mix.

I mentally cross the last one out. She's not only lacking mortal blood, being just one-third human, but the Midnight Fae are true vampires, unlike our dreamwalking hybrid version of them. I'm not looking for another mouth to feed when it comes to the blood fields.

Lucifer is just being thorough, so he had all potential candidates included. And he knows the Strigoi have special needs, like all hybrids do, so a small blood sample has been placed on each page next to the names. I'm not sure if I want to know how he obtained those.

But none of the samples call to me. I gently press my tongue to the spot of one red splotch, then make a face.

If I want a bride that tastes like overripe fruit, then that's the one.

Cage has silently moved to my side of the bed and yanks the portfolio out of my hands. "Sabre." He says my name like a curse. "What the fuck are you doing? You're going to tell me you didn't hear that? That you didn't see it? It's gone now, but there was something weird in the dream plane. Everything was… off, for a minute."

"There was nothing," I insist as I fling off the bedsheets, then immediately regret it.

We both stare down at my throbbing cock. The unique glands around the head and base are vibrating, and I shove my pillow onto it.

That only happens when I'm really turned on. Not all Strigoi have them. The vibrating bulbs are a Sanguinis family trait—or so my father tells me.

Proudly.

And from my experience with human females, they quite enjoy it.

Cage grins so wide I can see the glint of his own fangs coming out. "If you lie to me one more time, I'm going to fuck the truth out of you, and not in a good way. You won't like it."

Cage knows how to punish. That's his thing.

And I like that about him, normally. He feels like the living and breathing consequence to my failures, and in a fucked-up way, that makes me feel better about myself.

Not that I'd ever admit that to him.

What I lack in speed that Cage has inherited from the Van Drakken line, I have in strength .

Shooting to my feet, I crest his height by a few inches and snarl at him.

I let the pillow fall as I shove him away. "You're going to make me say it? Fine, Cage. I'm fucking starving. I need a real meal if my family is going to keep taking every scrap of energy I've gathered. I'm so hungry I'm manifesting a fucking feast in the dream plane."

My temper flares, and I know I'm going to regret my next words, but I don't stop them from forming in my mind. I let Cage see why he should run far, far away and never look back.

I shove him again, this time against the wall, splitting the solid marble in a straight line by the force of the blow. He grunts as rubble cascades around his feet. His eyes are still bright red as he glares at me from underneath the curtain of his golden hair.

Slamming my fists on either side of his face, I snarl, letting my fangs come out to their full, horrible length. My body has half transformed into my monster form as I let my true nature peek through.

Cage annoyingly stays in control, silently judging me as he waits for me to land my final blow.

Not a physical one, but one with words. One that'll cut deeper than my fangs ever could.

"Say it, Sabre," he growls at me with a rumbling, ethereal sound that's the only sign he's fighting his monster. "Fucking say it."

My lengthy tongue runs along his cheek. He tastes so sweet, but it's still not right.

Not how a true mate should taste.

"You're not doing it for me, Cage. You're. Not. Enough ."

His entire body ripples with rage, even though we both know it to be true.

"You didn't manifest that scream in the dream plane, Sabre," he says instead. "I heard it, too. I saw everything change for a minute, then it was gone. It was as if someone opened a window and let us see something that wasn't there." His jaw flexes with frustration, one I share, because he might be right. Or we've both just gone insane. "I don't know what it was, but it was real, and that tells me there's a soul out there worth having. Not just for you, but for me, too. Do you know what that means, my prince?"

He never calls me that, not unless he's trying to rile me up.

My monster is taking over, making it hard to talk, but I snarl a response anyway. "What does it mean, my assassin?" I slither out the s 's in the final word.

I return the favor of using his official title, because that reminds him of how we met.

He tried to kill me. That was his job, the first and only hit he ever failed.

Because he fell for me and I for him, when we shouldn't have.

Cage bravely—or stupidly—rests a hand on my shoulder in a claiming gesture. "It means we share a mate, Sabre. And she's out there somewhere. Do you want to find her? Or do you want to waste your time with that fucking portfolio of brides not meant for us?"

Cage is delusional, but I can't judge on that front. If I'm manifesting a mate in the dream plane, then I'm delusional, too.

"If you find another world I'm not aware of where she's hiding from us, by all means, Cage. Fucking find it."

I can't look at his face anymore. I'm not sure if I'll bite into his throat and coat this room with his blood or fuck him until he can't walk.

Maybe both.

"I'll find a way to escape our families," he says instead, forcing me back to him. "Maybe you did manifest that sound, maybe not. But at the very least, we can leave ."

Now he's speaking my language.

Leaving sounds attractive, even if it's impossible.

There's nowhere to go.

"I'm sick of watching you wither into darkness, my prince," Cage continues as he presses his forehead to mine. He's using the title reverently now, putting me above him in our ever-changing hierarchy. "I vow to you, this won't be our lives—miserable and on separate sides." His punishing grip squeezes harder. "This won't be our nightmare. We will make a dream of our own—just stay with me a little bit longer."

Escape.

That sounds impossible, almost like a dream. But it's more realistic than finding a mate.

Despite my skepticism, I reply, "Find it, Cage. Find a world no one knows about, and if you do, I promise you, we'll leave."

I'll abandon my withering throne.

I'll leave this damned kingdom to fight over the bloodied scraps that remain.

I'm done.

And whether or not that scream was real, I know one thing for certain.

It'll forever haunt my dreams.