Musette's Fate: Idris: Vampires & Strygoi Witches, #5

By Ysobella Black

Musette's been stuck in a coma since the Spider Mage poisoned her magic. Idris has been by her side, but how long can she expect him to wait?  She's always believed in love at first sight and had feelings of the future, though never for herself. Finding out she's a witch with a vampire soulmate is exciting, but everything is ripped away before she gets a chance to experience it. With no memory of what the Spider Mage did to her, she's stuck in limbo with no way out.

 

Idris promised his dying sister that he would look after her descendants. At the time, he was human — neither of them could have known how long that promise would last. Thousands of years later, he's finally found his Dragă, just when one of his descendants needs his help. But, Musette needs him, too. Will he have to choose?

 

A Dragă is meant to make a vampire's heart beat and restore his soul — but what if the poison caused permanent damage, and they can never bond?

 

This is a sexy, soulmate novel with no cheating, fade to blacks, or cliffhangers. It's a fast-paced story that blends romance, mythology, humor, and adventure. I promise, after some scary moments and lunacy, that there will always be a happy ending. Each story in the series focuses on one couple, and can be read as a standalone novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ysobella Black
• Release date: Oct 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223754763

Ysobella Black

I love to travel, read, and think of ways to complicate my characters’ lives. I have two borrowed cats who take shameless advantage of my good nature. Hopefully you find my characters a lot more entertaining than I am. :) If you enjoyed this story, you may be interested to know that I write in several series. While each novel is written for one relationship, features unique mythologies, and can be read as standalone, a little more of that world is revealed and the overall arc of the series grows throughout. I also write two versions of most of my stories. For the naughty versions, read stories by Ysobella Black. If you prefer nice/sweet stories with fade to black scenes and no swearing, you'll want to read the versions by Ysobel Black. The best way to find out what’s going on with the series, and me, is to visit my website at https://www.ysobellablack.com. There, you can also check out the wikis and timelines for each series. Or, sign up for the newsletter. https://ysobellablack.com/newsletter/ I send out things like surveys, freebies, contests, and random news about things going on with me that may or may not be interesting.  I love hearing from my readers. Feel free to contact me via my website, or find me on social media. I admit, I don't keep up with posting constantly on one account, much less two, so I don't have separate accounts for my two pen names on most platforms. Twitter - @Ysobellablack Pinterest - ysobellablack Goodreads - ysobellablack or ysobelblack Instagram - @ysobellablackauthor TikTok - @ysobellablack Bookbub - ysobellablack or ysobelblack

Book preview

TUESDAY,

DECEMBER 3

CHAPTER ONE

PBCups

MUSETTE

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Musette drew the eyeshadow brush over her client’s eyelid and blended the colors to create her latest pièce de résistance in her studio at the salon-spa. The orange and gold shades complemented each other perfectly, giving Elizabeth a bright smokey-eyed look. Musette’s artistic works would never hang in a gallery like her twin’s, but they were shown off every time her clients walked out the door.

Turning to the counter full of cosmetics, Musette chose a black liquid eyeliner. Open your eyes and look up.

Irritation barely masked, Elizabeth opened her eyes. She had argued with Musette’s color choices, not believing orange a flattering color for anyone. Sometimes that was true. Orange was a... bold choice.

Musette had been following one of her feelings and insisted on trying the color palette, promising to redo the makeup if Elizabeth didn’t like her look when Musette finished. Her feeling had told her this woman wanted something new, something she would never try herself. Musette always knew how her clients wanted to look — the hard part was getting them to let her wield her makeup applicators like she wanted to.

Biting back a grin, Musette said, You can roll your eyes if you want to, as long as you end looking up.

Elizabeth’s lips twitched in a hint of amusement as she obeyed with one of the best exaggerated eye rolls Musette had ever seen. Drawing the thinnest lines possible, she added a touch of dark to each eye to offset the bright and spun the chair so her client could see her reflection. Yes, this was perfect. A bit of autumn in winter. What do you think?

Reaching to touch her cheek, Elizabeth’s expression went from a tight ‘I’m enduring this to be polite’ to one of amazement. I’ll admit, I thought you were crazy.

I get that a lot. Mostly from her twin, Ember, who poked fun at her feelings at every opportunity, going so far as to call them Musette’s Mystical Moments of Madness. Stand up so you can get the full effect of your new self. Musette whisked the plastic cover from her client like a magician revealing a magic trick and waited expectantly for the verdict.

As Elizabeth stood, the slinky, russet-colored, floor-length gown brought out gold highlights in her updo. Bronze lipstick and orange shades of eye makeup gave her a look reminiscent of a harvest goddess. 

Perfect.

Elizabeth smiled and straightened her posture. Tonight is a onetime event, but I want to buy everything you just used on me. You’ve got yourself a new client for life. I’d hug you, but I'm afraid I’ll smudge something. 

With a relieved grin, Musette packaged the products, had Elizabeth sign for them, and handed the bag to her new client. You can owe me a hug for next time. If only everyone believed all her feelings so easily. 

Confidence made Elizabeth even more beautiful and added a sexy sway to her step as she walked out.

Desiree, who worked in the dress shop of the all-inclusive salon-spa, poked her head into the room. She always looked exquisitely coiffed, somehow keeping her blonde highlights in perfect alignment against the darker shade of brown in a sweeping balayage style.

When Musette wanted to be irritating, she called the intricate color arrangement plain bronde, then ran for her life. Desiree usually caught her, though. That woman could run like a cheetah, even in stiletto heels.

Her friend opened the door completely, revealing her chic black dress — sleeveless, v-necked, with a layered skirt, short in the front, floor length in the back. Nice job. Elizabeth’s so hot I’m surprised the fire alarms aren’t going off.

Pressing a hand to her cheek, Musette gave her friend a slitted-eye glare. They better not! They’ll ruin all my work.

We have one more client for you. Desiree stepped to the side and a tall, ebony-haired woman with striking dark blue eyes entered. This is Nadya. Her man said he’s got special plans for her tonight.

An immediate sense of dread filled Musette, closing around her heart like confused brain freeze. This woman was in danger. And, if things went as they normally did, she would just think Musette was crazy. 

Musette blinked and tried to push down the anxiety making it hard to breathe. She held out a hand. Come. Sit. Let’s chat about what kind of look you want for tonight. Maybe she could get Nadya talking and figure out some way to help.

Desiree escorted Nadya to the chair and urged her into the seat. You’re in expert hands. Musette will make you look gorgeous. Come see me before you go so I can get the full effect! She click-clacked out of the room on her high heels.

Musette picked up a new cape and fastened it around Nadya’s neck. The woman hadn’t uttered a word. Icy fingers still clutching her heart, Musette tried to focus. She wouldn’t find out anything if neither of them spoke. Are you all right?

Nadya seemed to snap out of some sort of trance and nodded jerkily. As she tilted her head up, Musette automatically cataloged the tones, angles and shape of Nadya’s face. Sapphire eyes, long lashes, smooth, pale skin, high cheekbones, a bit too sharp, like Nadya wasn’t eating enough. Straight nose, full lips. But there was no feeling of what Nadya wanted to look like. In fact, the feeling Musette got what that Nadya didn’t want any of this. Was someone forcing her to be here? An abusive relationship would explain the feeling of dread.

When Nadya met her eyes, Musette stared. The woman’s eyes had changed color — no, not changed color. They were two colors now, a silver circle shining bright between the black pupil and the dark blue iris. The silver definitely hadn’t been there before. 

Nadya?

The woman’s lips curved into a frown and she shook her head, freezing as her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror. Confusion washed over her face, and one hand flew from under the plastic cape to touch her cheek.

You... Musette swallowed. You’re not Nadya?

Not... Nadya.

Are you in some sort of danger? Musette asked. If you need help —

The woman broke the staring contest with herself in the mirror and seized Musette’s wrist in a bruising grip. Help...

Musette nodded. Yes. You don’t have to go with him.

Have to go...

The silver faded. Blue-eyed Nadya blinked and cleared her throat. I’m sorry. What did you say? She flicked her gaze to where she squeezed Musette’s arm and released her. I’m so sorry.

Um, I was asking if you needed help. Maybe Nadya had Neurotic Nanoseconds.

Oh. Definitely. I’m hopeless when it comes to makeup.

There was no sign of the previous reluctance or confusion. What had just happened? I was thinking of a neutral palette for a few highlights. You have a natural beauty we can bring out just a bit more.

Nadya smiled. Sounds great. Less is more, right? Mordecai will appreciate that. He does so much for me.

Ember would say something clever about Wacky Weirdness of Women. Musette couldn’t deny this was strange. Like two women occupied a single body and one needed help. Tell me about this Mordecai of yours.

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Musette slouched in her Solaris Orange Mini Cooper across the street from the fancy restaurant where Nadya sat at a table with a man who radiated menace. Aunt Bridget could see auras. Her nieces didn’t share that ability, but Musette didn’t need to in order to know this man was bad news. He set off all her feelings.

Dark-haired, and possibly white-eyed — from this distance his eyes might be light blue — he didn’t do anything overt, but an aura about him kept others away. Diners smiled at Nadya, but averted their eyes when Mordecai caught them looking. Just seeing the man gave Musette shudders. He felt like death.

What could she do? She wasn’t a fighter. She couldn’t call the police — what would she say? Yes, Mr. Police Officer, the man who spent nearly a thousand dollars on a dress and the works treatment at the salon-spa, and now having an expensive dinner with this woman, is a danger to her. How do I know? Well, because I had a feeling and followed them here like a stalker.

Ember would laugh her head off. 

Today was Roof Over Your Head Day, but Musette didn’t want it to be a prison, thank you very much.

Opening the glove compartment, Musette took out a packet of peanut butter cups and munched on the best treat in the world. She’d missed dinner but was pretty sure she could live on peanut butter cups, anyway. Protein, dairy, what were legumes? Fruit or vegetable? Vegetable. Fruit grew above the ground, vegetables in the ground. At least that’s what she was going with.

Inside the restaurant, Nadya frowned and pushed back from the table. Musette sat straight in her seat, envisioning herself as a get-away driver, tires squealing while Nadya dove into the car and Musette made their escape.

Mid-bite, Musette froze. A feeling of Ember’s panic as she drove a get-away car made Musette gasp and her clench her fingers around the steering wheel. Not a now feeling though, so she could process it later.

Musette refocused on the couple at the table. Mordecai gripped Nadya’s chin, turning her face to him. He said something. Nadya offered him a brilliant smile and relaxed into his touch. It wasn’t right. Nadya acted like a robot.

After dinner Musette tried to follow the car Nadya and the creepy man had climbed into, but lost them. One minute the car had been in front of her, the next it was gone. She sighed. Tomorrow she’d look up Nadya's contact information and call her to make sure she was okay. Nadya didn’t act like she was in fear for her life, despite Musette’s feeling. And she was no super spy. That was the best she could do. 

At home, Musette parked in the garage next to Ember’s boring black Jeep and entered the cottage she shared with her twin and their aunt, whenever she was in the country. Musette relaxed as she felt the bond she shared with her twin. She’d known Ember was fine, but it was a relief to have it confirmed.

Hey, Goldilocks. Ember leaned against the doorway into the kitchen, a slice of pizza in her hand. You’re home late tonight.

Hey Gingerbread — As her twin entered the living room, an overwhelming sense of inevitable horror blurred Musette’s vision. Sharp pain radiated from her heart, paralyzing her lungs.

Musette, are you all right? Ember’s voice echoed in Musette's head.

Musette waved her twin off. Skipped dinner. Just light-headed. Her stomach roiled, but it wasn’t from lack of food. While the horror faded, dread surfaced. Somehow she was going to have to make Ember believe in a Mystical Moment of Madness. One of the worst Musette had ever felt.

CHAPTER TWO

5 Angela

ANGELA

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Angela watched Idris from across the tattoo parlor as she crunched a candy cane. It wasn’t the largest shop — only four chairs that could be curtained off like mini hospital rooms, and the closed off area Idris worked out of in the back — but she liked it. Idris only hired the best, and there was stiff competition to earn, and keep, a place in his establishment.

He was there now, talking with one of his regular clients. His red hair was almost the same dark shade as Angela’s, but he towered over her at six-and-a-half-feet tall and his broad shoulders made it seem like he took up all the space between them as he moved silently and with the easy grace of a huge cat.

She’d dreamed about him last night. And not a work type dream, either. As had been happening lately, she imagined life with Idris outside of work. Her dreams had been insane. Not the content, though that was intense, but the crazy connection forged by the first dream a few weeks ago, and reinforced by each subsequent one. 

The only problem — Idris didn’t feel the same way. He was always polite and interested in what she had to say when she broached a topic, but that was as far as anything went. He didn’t touch her or come to her to talk, and he definitely didn’t ask her out, treating her just like he treated everyone else.

Great for equal opportunity employment.

Not so good when he felt like her soul mate. She may as well be a woman who had wandered off the street for a tattoo — someone who would disappear from his thoughts and life as soon as their friendly but impersonal interaction was over.

Sometimes she thought he watched her, but she never caught him doing it. The door closed and the buzzing of a tattoo gun filled the air. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the sketch she was working on. A stylized tree of life she had been drawing for the client coming in soon.

Two hours later her newly tattooed client was leaving, gushing over her work, and full dark had fallen outside. As Angela cleaned up her equipment, she stole another glance at Idris.

The door to the private room stood open again. He’d also finished a session with his client, coloring and shading part of an incredibly detailed forest-scene sleeve from wrist to shoulder, going across her back to the other already completed sleeve. His skill made his work so vibrant and lifelike, sometimes she envied his talent.

Angela didn’t believe in false modesty. Her work was excellent, but sometimes she would swear the tattoos Idris created moved or watched her. That was ridiculous. It had to be a trick of light or her tired eyes. She made her designs intricate, and they required painstaking attention to detail. It was no wonder sometimes she saw things move when they shouldn’t. 

Soon they’d lock up and go their separate ways until the next time they shared space in the tattoo parlor. With the vivid detail of her dreams, she felt like she knew him so much better and wanted to know more. Maybe she should be brave and take the first step. 

CHAPTER THREE

Whitebear (1)

IDRIS

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Idris wound plastic wrap around his client’s arm and ran through the aftercare instructions. It was a habit and unneeded in this case. This particular client already had one full sleeve, and they were working on the second. She knew the drill, especially since they’d been using magic to create her tattoos. 

Vampire hearing told him Angela was still in the shop. When he opened the door to let his client out, Angela was staring off into space. She seemed distracted lately unless she was tattooing someone. Then she entered some sort of zone. Her work remained top notch, so Idris had let her be.

He didn’t want to be that boss — the one who blurred lines and intruded into his employees’ lives. He preferred to leave being the boss to Stryx, even though Idris pretty much only listened to him when he felt like it.

As his client left, Angela rose and crossed the shop. Idris slid the tattoo needles he used out of her sight on the small table behind him. No point inviting questions about them. He had a recording he used of a tattoo machine when he worked with the enchanted needles carved from bone and conch shell instead.

She paused in the doorway, fidgeting a bit. Her hands, so steady when she held pen, pencil or needle, couldn’t decide what to do. Fingers intertwined and released, drummed on her thighs, pushing into her pockets. The frown that settled on her face was so familiar it made him smile. It was only one of so many things she did unconsciously that took him back in time. 

Idris? Her hair was a slightly darker shade of red than usual, but it was always red. Her eyes were the right shade of blue-grey, though. Just like his. Those traits remained the same, no matter how many centuries had passed.

What’s up?

I was wondering... well, if you have time... can we get coffee?

Why was she so nervous around him all of the sudden? She wasn’t going to quit, was she? He could keep track of her other ways, but enjoyed seeing her here in his space. Watching her tattoo people was another thing that took him back in time and made his heart feel a little lighter. Sure. Give me a couple minutes to finish up here. I’ll be right out.

Great. Thanks. Angela went back to her station and picked up a pencil.

Idris closed the door to his tiny office that led off the private room and stepped past the desk to open a warded entrance to the tunnels that ran below his shop. He hurried down the dark corridors, having visited them so often he didn’t need light to make his way through them to one of the larger caverns. Crossing another ward, he placed the needles into a silk-lined box that he closed in a drawer.

He hurried back to his office and opened the door to rejoin Angela. Ready to go?

She nodded and slid her latest drawing into the file cabinet beneath the reception counter the artists working for him shared.

Idris helped her on with her jacket, set the alarm, and locked up. During the walk of fifty feet across snow-covered sidewalks to a nearby cafe, Angela swiveled her head constantly. Shoulders tense, her eyes darted to scan every face around them. Her heartbeat, loud and rapid, pounded in her chest, and she held her breath from when they left his tattoo shop until she let it out in a slow exhale when they entered the cafe. She was scared. Of him?

There was one table open when they walked in. Why don’t you grab that table for us, and I’ll get the drinks. Peppermint coffee for you? She had an obsession with candy canes.

Angela nodded and gave him a nervous smile, then wove between chairs and patrons to the empty seats next to the window overlooking the street. 

As he waited in line, her heart settled into a slower rhythm. It was steady all day at the tattoo shop. So what had scared her on the way here? He placed their order, although he wouldn’t touch his, and when the drinks were ready, carried the mugs to a table for two. Angela spun her coffee cup in unsteady hands.

He couldn’t resist anymore. He was going to be that boss. Angela, is someone bothering you?

Her mug froze mid-spin, but the liquid continued its journey around the inside of the cup. What?

I noticed you were nervous outside. Has someone threatened you? Do you feel unsafe?

No, er, well, yes. I mean, sort of? She laughed and shook her head. No one has threatened me, but I think I’ve seen a man following me a few times. He’s never said anything and maybe it’s just coincidence. It’s just that when I see him, he’s staring at me, and there’s something... unnerving about him. She gazed into her mug. I’m probably imagining things.

Have you seen him around the shop? Can you describe him? Karov had installed the security system in the tattoo parlor, so it had all the latest and greatest gizmos. Some cameras faced the street. Maybe they’d caught the guy on one of them.

Angela shook her head. He’s never been outside the shop when I’m at work, as far as I know. He wears a long black jacket and his hood has been up when I’ve seen him, which, since it’s winter and cold, makes sense. It’s more like I can feel his presence. She laughed again. I sound ridiculous.

It’s not ridiculous if he’s scaring you. Where — His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. Sorry. One moment. He took the call. 

CHAPTER FOUR

christmas-2936796_1280 (1)

ANGELA

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Angela leapt to her feet as Idris answered his phone. This was not going like she’d hoped. You’re supposed to be getting to know him outside of work to see about the soulmate thing, and here you are babbling on about being terrified by a stalker.

That’s probably important. I’ll leave you to it.Abandoning her untouched coffee, she dodged the hand Idris reached for her, wove between the tables and pushed out the door. The cold air was a slap that cleared her head.

Stupid.

What had she been thinking? What man would be interested in a woman who blathered on about how she feared a man wearing a jacket in winter? And apparently, she wasn’t as discreet as she thought, since he’d noticed her acting like a crazy person.

However idiotic she felt, her head still turned, searching. Her apartment wasn’t too far away. A ten-minute walk. Less if she hurried. She walked fast, refusing to give in to the urge to actually flee from the embarrassing situation. 

Each step she didn’t see the man in the jacket, she felt lighter, until by the time she reached her apartment and closed the door behind her, things seemed okay. The situation with Idris had been awkward, but it wasn’t unsalvageable. She just wouldn’t mention mysterious men in jackets again, and play off her hasty exit next time she saw him. 

Her studio apartment smelled like Christmas — candy canes and pine trees. It was her favorite time of year. She hit a switch to turn on the twinkly icicle lights strung around her space year-round, and went into the tiny kitchen to forage for dinner. Leftover Chinese. Leftover pizza. Leftover Greek. Leftover Mexican. Apparently she had problems finishing things — like any meal she had delivered to her home and blundering attempts at Are you my soulmate? conversations.

A quesadilla sounded perfect. How could anyone go wrong with cheese? Opening a beer, she took a long pull and set the bottle down on the kitchen counter while her dinner warmed in the microwave.

Angela scooped up her fish food and crossed the room to the twisty aquarium that housed her betta fish — one red, the other green. They could see each other, but not fight one another. She sprinkled food for each of them. Hello, Pepper and Mint. They ignored her as they ate like they were starved.

She moved to the window to pull the curtains, ready to close out the dark. Her new resolve and sense of peace shattered. There, in the parking lot, stood the man in the hooded jacket. He knew where she lived! He tilted his head up, trapping her in his gaze despite the hood hiding his eyes, and raised one hand toward her. 

She yanked the curtains closed, gripping the thick material in her curled fingers. Unable to resist, she parted the fabric an inch and peeked out. No one was there. Maybe she didn’t have a stalker.

Between imagining him and her dreams about Idris...

Maybe she was only losing her mind.

WEDNESDAY,

DECEMBER 4

CHAPTER FIVE

5 Musette

MUSETTE

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Musette pulled on her pink flannel pajamas and a pair of thick, warm purple socks. She checked the clock on her phone. 12:05AM on December 4. It was officially Sock Day. Which also meant Cookie Day. And every day was unofficially Ice Cream Day. Days to celebrate three things were a good sign. Surely nothing bad would happen today. Maybe her feeling about Ember was a mistake.

She dunked her Oreo into a glass of milk for exactly five and a half seconds and ate her snack. Happy Cookie Day to me.

The book she was reading rested on her nightstand. A joke Ember thought was hilarious, about a trespassing Goldilocks and her reverse harem of three bear shifters. Men who turned into bears. Ridiculous. Three men at once sounded like something Ember would do. At least, until she got mad and murdered them in their sleep. Musette was a one-man woman, and definitely a one-man-at-a-time-woman.

But she read the book to spite her twin. Musette was a sucker for romance, no matter how it worked out for those involved, as long as they ended up happy. She climbed into her comfy bed and snuggled down as she picked up her book.

Of course it’s raining now, Goldilocks muttered. Because getting lost in the forest at night isn't bad enough.

GPS is a thing, you know. Musette dunked another cookie. And appropriate clothing. Really, who goes traipsing around a forest at night in a miniskirt and stilettos? Women who end up with three strange men at the same time, that’s who, you strumpet. She shoved her milky cookie into her mouth to stop her judging.

She removed her favorite heels to save them from mud and trudged through the sudden downpour. Water slid beneath her corset, making it slide and chafe as she moved. The forest seemed a lot bigger than it should be. Maybe she should have just caught a cab instead of taking the shortcut. 

What was that ahead of her? Part of the grey rock face was darker than the surrounding area. A cave would keep her dry until the rain stopped..

Bad idea, Goldilocks. Musette sniffed at how like Ember that statement sounded.

She entered the cavern. The black rock wasn’t exactly cozy, but it blocked the wind and rain. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating three tunnels. Goldilocks huddled on the ground and tried to sleep. Things would be better in the morning.

Someone's been sleeping in our den, a deep voice growled.

Musette opened her eyes. Three huge red-haired men with tattoos were closing in around her from three sides.

I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone lived here. She scrambled away until she hit the cave wall, cold stone pressing against her back. I didn’t touch anything. I just wanted a place to stay dry until the rain stopped.

That’s too bad, Man One murmured. He nudged Man Two. We like our women wet.

Musette gasped, and her cheeks flamed.

Man Three reached for her.

She scrambled to her feet and darted beneath outstretched arms to run back into the rain, icy drops pelting her bare skin.

A chase! The men whooped behind her.

Wait. When had this become her and not Goldilocks? She must have fallen asleep and now she was having some weird dream. One too many cookies before bed.

Or maybe not enough cookies. That was more likely.

Musette fled down a trail that wound through thick trees. Cold mud squished between her toes and splattered her legs. Her pedicure was definitely ruined.

I’m not having fun anymore. She skidded in a slimy patch and fell on her butt, her head slamming into the mire. Her hair and manicure were ruined too. Gross. Gross. Gross!

I want to wake up now. That’s how people woke up from dreams, wasn’t it? She just had to keep telling herself this wasn’t real.

Three sets of footsteps pounded behind her, and a bear roared. And who knew what those... man-bears thought they were going to do to her!

Wake up. Wake up. Wake. Up!

She remained stuck in the mud. Why wasn’t it working?

Heavy breathing closed in behind her. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Musette slipped and slid to her feet. As she sprinted down the path, a woman with green eyes and red hair stood to the side with her arms crossed. She wore purple and blue plaid pants, a visor on her head and a tree next to her propped up a bag of golf clubs. This isn’t right at all. She spoke with a lilt as she frowned at Musette.

What the....

There hadn’t been a character like her in that stupid book. Musette came to a stumbling halt. Who was she? The woman resembled Ember. Definitely the same color eyes, though her hair wasn’t quite the correct shade of red. What do you mean, this isn’t right?

Must I do everything myself, even after all this time? What is wrong with this generation? the woman muttered. I’m going to be late for my tee time.

Musette blinked water out of her eyes and pushed her hair out of her face. What —

The forest changed. Taller trees, but not as plentiful, and everything became a brighter shade of green. Pounding footsteps vanished along with the rain, leaving her clean, dry, and in a lovely golden sundress that reached mid-calf — a much more appropriate outfit than that hussy Goldilocks had left her wearing.

Musette touched her hair, half afraid it would be a snarled mess, but it fell down her back in the proper straight, shiny layers. Her manicure and pedicure, free of mud and slime, gleamed in ten shades of pink and ten of purple. She breathed out a sigh of relief. This was more like it. Hello?

Nothing happened. I’m still ready to wake up. Stupid book. Stupid dream. Maybe she had to make it to the end of whatever was happening here. She was going to murder Ember.

Soft grass tickled Musette’s bare feet as she climbed to the top of a low hill and turned in a circle. More trees. A blue sky. What was she supposed to do?

Where was that woman who had to do everything herself? Playing golf? I’m more like Alice in Wonderland than Goldilocks now. Although, that had been croquet, hadn’t it? And tea like the drink. Not tee like in golf. She laughed. 

A red-haired man wearing only tight black leather pants and tattoos appeared.

And why did everyone in this weird dream have red hair?

With his back to her, muscles rippled as he put his hands on his hips and tilted his head and stood face up to the sun.

Are you as confused as me? Why bother asking him? He was in her dream. So, that meant he only knew what she knew, right? Psychology had never been her best subject.

He spun. Blue eyes in a square-jawed, handsome face roamed over her, head to bare toes. Who are you?

Now that was a deep voice she wouldn’t mind hearing more of. A sensation like pop rocks ricocheted through her stomach.

The ink on his naked, muscled chest swirled into a mass that formed the face of a bear.

Not bears again! Ugh. She was so throwing that book away first thing. And he didn’t know as much as she did. Musette took a step backward. Okay, well, I’m going to go try to wake up.

Musette took another step and turned away, only to crash into a hard, muscled chest. Nose to nose with the bear tattoo, its eyes seemed alive and its fur smelled like warm sunshine. The fur would be so soft.

Tempted to trace the thick lines of Celtic design, and the ridges of the man’s abdomen — really, a shirtless man with muscles like this and in her dream was just asking to be touched — she jerked her hand away and moved back, needing some distance.

Boundaries, Musette!

Strong hands caught her biceps and held her in place. Who are you?

Why was he asking her?

He lowered his head to her neck and inhaled.

Why was he smelling her?

The man pushed her back and rubbed the bear on his chest. I see colors, but you don’t have a scent.

Musette gasped. She had used her strawberry shampoo and chocolate scented lotion right before bed — she smelled delicious! Although... maybe she shouldn’t be pointing that out to strangers.

A curled finger lifted her chin, and he was kissing her.

Why was he kissing her?

Why was she letting him?

As his lips moved over hers, a delicious heat spread through her, making her bones feel like melted chocolate.

Oh. Maybe that was why.

One of his arms pulled her closer, his hand leaving a fiery trail through her dress. Musette set her palms on his chest. His tattoo felt alive, moving under her fingertips.

He took his sweet time, dusting her mouth with soft kisses, nipping her bottom lip, slipping his tongue inside on a breath. Somewhere along the way, his hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kisses.

His body was all hard planes against her soft curves, and she moaned into his mouth when he nudged his hips into her, the ridge of his arousal pressing into her belly. A spike of pleasure shot through her at the contact.

Everything felt right.

She wanted more, but he held still and kept kissing her. The glide of his tongue with hers made her delirious. Until he slowed his kiss, easing away and lifting his head.

Why had he stopped? She opened her eyes.

The bear tattoo had moved up and covered his face.

It was all wrong! All wrong! Musette screamed, tore herself out of his embrace, and staggered back.

He dropped to all fours. His leather pants ripped as his body grew bigger and changed into a bear, except the face, which was only the tattoo.

Not again!

It was time to wake up.

Musette sprinted for the trees.

The tattoo-face bear pursued her as she fled. Heavy paws thundered when they impacted the ground.

Closer. Closer.

What had the woman said before? This isn’t right at all! This isn’t right at all! It wasn’t working. There’s no place like home! Abra cadabra! Presto! I want to wake up!

The sounds of pursuit vanished.

Her relief was short-lived as a heavy weight slammed into her back and took her down. She shrieked, seeing the dirt come up fast. The world spun, and she landed on the bear’s stomach. He rolled, putting her on the ground, then a massive paw turned her face up and the bear stood over her.

Musette caught a scream in her throat as she woke and sat up. Soft pink walls. Her neon pink and purple comforter. Comfy pajamas and socks.

No bears in sight.

Definitely no redheads.

She pressed a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart as the stupid book thunked to the floor.

What a strange dream.

CHAPTER SIX

Whitebear (1)

IDRIS

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What the fuck? Idris sat up, rubbing his chest over his non-beating heart. For a second, when he first saw that mysterious blonde, he would have sworn his heart was going to beat. Every muscle, every sinew, every cell in him had tightened in anticipation.

But his heart hadn’t beat. Hadn’t even twitched.

Because that was impossible. There weren’t Dragăs anymore. There hadn’t been in a thousand years.

It was probably a good thing his capacity for emotions had diminished when he’d been turned into a vampire. Disappointment like that could crush a man.

Why was he dreaming about a blonde? Not that she hadn’t been stunning, but it was rare he dreamed at all, much less about women he didn’t know. And he’d definitely remember if he’d met her before.

He picked up a lighter and lit the candles on his bedside table, illuminating the dark red walls of his room at Club Saol, and the dark sheets on his bed.

The club. Tabitha was working here tonight. The building was still standing. Was it safe to go out yet? She and Stryx were like fire and... more fire. A friend wouldn’t let Stryx face that woman alone. A true friend would avoid that situation entirely, so Stryx wouldn’t have to feel bad for killing his best friend as collateral damage.

Let Melchior handle that. He was bigger and could take more damage.

Idris had his own woman to wonder about at the moment. 

A glance down at his tattoos reassured him all the ones that should be on his chest and abdomen were there. His bear lived on his back. Even now, he could feel soft fingertips on his chest, drawing at long dormant magic.

Who was that woman? Why had he chased her?

Well, he knew why he’d chased her. She ran. And he’d wanted her. His tattoos, especially his bear, wanted her. Lust like that hadn’t overtaken him in... maybe ever.

He was still hard from kissing her.

Idris picked up the sketch pad he always kept by his bed. They were all over the place, since he never knew when inspiration would strike.

Over the last three thousand years, unless the drawing was for a client, he’d only drawn one woman. But tonight, for the first time, he drew someone else.

Long golden hair. Lush curves. Emerald green eyes. Red lips. Pale, porcelain skin. Gold dress. Her fingernails and toenails painted in different shades of pink and purple.

He’d never seen so many colors on one woman before.

And, around her — green trees and a blue sky. Blue sky!

He had dreamed in color. Vibrant colors.

That had never happened in nearly three thousand years.

Of all the things that changed for him when he turned vampire, he missed colors the most.

His mystery woman took form on paper and a tiny part of him, deep inside his heart, wished he could bring her to life.

CHAPTER SEVEN

5 Musette

MUSETTE

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Trying to sleep after that dream would be pointless. Musette stared at the photographs of the bride and her bridesmaids on her phone, reaching for the part of her sixth sense that allowed her to know things. She could usually get a feel for how her clients wanted to look, but after trying to distract herself for hours, all she felt was dread. 

She tried to analyze her feeling like her aunt had taught her. Holding up the photos again, she concentrated. Her unease wasn't coming from any of those women. Her thoughts drifted towards her aunt. Nope, not her. Ember. An icy sensation coiled in her stomach. Something was going to happen to her sister. But what?

No way to know. But as often as Musette wanted to strangle Ember, she had to tell her. And risk being teased mercilessly.

Rubbing her dry eyes, she ran her hands through her hair, twisting it into a sloppy knot. Her hands flew up to correct the mess, then dropped. What was the point? Ember didn’t care how neat Musette’s hair was.

There was nothing else to do. Musette sighed. Her twin always made fun of her. Well, Gingerbread Head could make fun of her if she wanted. Musette would never forgive herself if she didn't say anything and something happened to Ember. Maybe it would be a miracle and her twin would believe her this time. This feeling felt worse.

A check of her phone revealed it was almost three in the morning. There might be a small reprieve. Ember would be asleep, so Musette could just open the door to Ember’s bedroom, make sure she slept peacefully, then go back to her vigil. As long as her twin was asleep, she was fine. Even she couldn’t get in trouble when she was unconscious. Musette could put off the ridiculing... and the fight, because Ember’s temper... Musette pitied anyone on the wrong side of an angry Ember. Being a twin didn’t save her from that.

And the things she felt when Ember was angry — such fathomless rage and hungry vengeance. It was no wonder she had such a temper.

Musette tiptoed across the hardwood floor dotted with pink and purple carpets, cracked her door open and peeked into the hallway. Light streamed under Ember’s door.

No, no, no.

Not another one of Ember’s sunrise excursions to take more pictures of things she already had pictures of!

She darted from the safety of her bedroom and burst into Ember’s domain.

Her twin didn’t look up from the backpack in her hands, but she knew Musette had invaded. You’re worried about nothing again. Ember used her patient-but-not-really-patient-tone. I’m going to be fine.

No, you can’t go! The keys! Musette marched across the room and snatched them off the bed. I won’t let you.

I have more than one set. Of course, her well-organized, ready-for-anything sister had spares.

Ember turned around with what she probably thought was a smile that would put Musette at ease.

It wasn’t. It didn’t.

"I’ll have my cell and satellite phones. Ember frowned as she looked Musette up and down. I’ll call if I need help, but I’m just going to hike into the park, shoot the sunrise, hang out for the day, and get some shots of the sunset. I’ll be home tonight. I promise."

Musette resisted the urge to re-button her misaligned top and fix her hair. I just have a feeling something terrible is going to happen. She bit her lip. Can’t you wait until someone can go with you? I have to do makeup for an entire wedding party today, but I could go tomorrow. You could wait one day.

Ember knew Musette hated sunrise trips. Surely she’d see this was important. But she didn’t. There’s a storm forecast for tomorrow and nothing but foul weather in the mountains for days after that. This is my last chance to get the shots I want for the show next week. And Viktoria needs time with the images so she can paint. It’s not fair to make her rush.

That was all true, but... Musette paced, fidgeting with a loose string on the hem of her pajama top. Don’t you already have enough pictures for the show? You have like two million you’ve never used for anything. 

Shaking her head, Ember clipped a sleeping bag to her backpack and slung it to the floor. We don’t have these last shots. Besides, the days are getting shorter. I want to enjoy the sun while I can.

Mentioning a feeling wouldn’t help. She clenched her fists, but her phone in one hand prevented her. Call me when you arrive. And after sunrise, every hour during the day, at sunset, and when you’re on your way home.

Ember narrowed her eyes. What’s got you so spooked? You’ve had your ‘sixth sense’ about me before and nothing happens. I’ve always been okay.

Musette sighed. I know you don’t believe in my feelings, but I do. And it just feels... I don’t know... different this time.

Ember sat on her bed and held out a hand. Okay, let’s go through it. How do you feel about me leaving the house today?

Oh, boy. Things were bad if Ember was trying to be comforting. Musette squeezed her sister’s hand, sat next to her, and concentrated. No spike of terror at the idea. That part is okay.

Driving to the park?

Still okay.

At the park?

Musette shuddered as the icy fist returned to close around her heart. The park feels... sinister.

Ember pulled away and crossed her arms. Placating time was over. You’ve been to Talol National Park with me before. The most sinister thing we’ve ever seen there was the hungry squirrel that statue-stalked us to steal our snacks.

A small smile played on Musette’s lips. I can’t believe you’re still defending that evil rodent. He was a menace. He was totally a minion of Satan in a cute disguise and wanted her peanut butter cups.

"You tormented him. Every time he tried to come closer, you had to turn around and stare at him, so he froze. It took the poor thing forever to reach the