Page 21 of Claimed By Her Monsters

Lions Roar

Darkness.

A heartbeat.

Mine? Alister’s? Caspian’s? Mick’s?

Wind and rain spin around me, pelting my skin and ripping at my clothing.

Stones thud against my body, thrown from angry hands.

Fire, it burns.

Fire. Wind. Earth. Water.

The elements claim me.

Thousands of scenes flash by. Voices talk. A baby cries. Years spin out like spider webs.

I am a child, riding on the back of a camel. A caravan stretches out behind me. My father’s people. I am their princess. There’s a clover birthmark on the inside of my wrist. One of its leaves gleams red.

I walk through a field where the lions roar and our first crop of wheat grows. Father says we will stay. We will build.

I’m at the helm of a boat, with a hundred oarsmen behind me, golden armor gleaming.

A beautiful woman. Her kohl-rimmed eyes are still open when they seal her in the tomb.

The king gives me money, clothes, jewels, riches beyond my wildest dreams.

I burn them all. No one will own me. Ever.

I run with a pack of wolves, drink fairy wine, drown with mermaids.

A bloody sword hangs from my hand, a ring on my finger, a child’s finger curls in mine.

The images come faster now, flashing, merging, melting into each other.

I’m a maiden, a mother, a crone.

Maiden, mother, crone.

Maidenmothercrone.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

I’m on fire.