Page 16 of Gods of Prey (Parallel Prey #3)

Revel

I drift between sleep and waking on the couch, the wine from earlier making my thoughts hazy.

The apartment is quiet except for the soft patter of rain against the glass.

Sienna is nowhere to be seen, which isn’t unusual after one of our arguments.

I have no idea where she goes when she isn’t here, and the answer is probably something that would only make me angry.

Still, I should go to my room, but moving feels like too much effort.

It’s in that liminal space between consciousness and dreams that I sense her presence. But something’s different about it. Instead of the usual chill that accompanies her spectral form, there’s warmth.

That’s my first indication that it’s not really her.

“Revel?”

I open my eyes, or think I do. She’s standing beside the couch. Not floating or flickering the way she usually does. Her feet are actually touching the floor. The moonlight streaming through the windows illuminates her face, and she looks... solid .

“How are you here?” I ask in a daze, sitting up slowly.

She glances down at herself, seeming surprised. “I don’t know. I was trying to manifest more clearly, pushing harder than usual. I must have—” She stops, frowning at me. “How can I see you so clearly?”

“Me?” I’m confused, still caught between sleep and waking. This has to be a dream. She can’t manifest physically into the mortal realm.

She lifts her hands, glaring down at them in uncertainty. “I’ve never been able to enter someone’s dreams before.”

I reach out instinctively, expecting my hand to pass through her as it always does. Instead, my fingers brush against her arm and both of us freeze.

“I can feel you,” I whisper, staring at my palm against her skin. Her skin is warm and soft—nothing like the cold specter I’m used to having pass through me.

“That’s impossible,” she breathes, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she lifts her own hand, tentatively touching my face. Her fingertips trace my jawline, and I feel a shiver run through my bones.

“In dreams, impossible things happen,” I say, leaning into her touch.

Because they aren’t real .

But for the first time ever, I wish they were.

She moves closer, sitting on the edge of the couch beside me. “I’ve been trying so hard to manifest physically that I must have exhausted my barriers. But entering your dreams...I didn’t even know I could do that.”

I tilt my head, my gaze rolling from her head to her toes.

This is all a figment of my imagination.

Some coping mechanism my brain conjured up to process all the stress I’ve been under.

A way to compartmentalize the gnawing anxiety I feel over returning things to their rightful order while fighting her at every single turn.

I feel asleep thinking of her. All the horrible things she showed me that I want to make right. That’s why she’s here.

I’m sure of it.

I’m just surprised by how accurately I managed to manifest her appearance. From the freckles skittering across her cheeks to the subtle line that forms between her brows when she frowns.

“I’m not complaining,” I admit, openly studying her face in the moonlight. Without the ethereal glow of her spectral form or those imposing black wings, she looks more human. Vulnerable. “You’re beautiful like this.”

The compliment rolls off my tongue naturally.

Of course, it would in the dream state. This is who I am at my core.

It’s Sienna that draws out the worst in me.

If this were real, I’d have that familiar sinking feeling in my stomach that’s always present whenever we get along.

The inner sense that an argument is on the horizon, waiting to disrupt our temporary peace.

She would scowl at me and make some snarky comment that would inevitably piss me off.

Instead, a blush spreads across her cheeks—something I’ve never seen her do before. “This is strange. Being able to touch things without moving right through them.” She reaches forward and brushes her fingers against the couch, smiling as the rough fabric scrapes against her skin.

“What does it feel like?” I ask, genuinely curious.

It’s been too long since I’ve been able to have a conversation where I wasn’t tiptoeing around the other person, careful not to reveal too much or push too far.

This break is a relief that I’m going to lean into, even if it is fake. “Being corporeal again?”

She considers this, her hand still resting against my cheek. “Heavy. Warm. Like I’m anchored to something instead of floating free.” She pauses, her eyes shyly flicking to mine through her lashes. “I didn’t expect this.”

“What?”

“You.” She looks at me directly then, those beautiful green eyes more serious. “I expected you to be more rigid when we came here. Insufferable, really. Cold and duty-bound like most of the divine court.”

I can’t help but smile. That certainly sounds more like Sienna. “And instead?”

“Instead, you’re...” She searches for words. “You’re kind. Patient. Even when I’m being difficult, you don’t lose your temper the way I do. You actually listen.” Her eyes fall to the floor. “You recognize the toll this takes on me.”

“You’re not what I expected either,” I admit, shoving down the ridiculous feeling of talking to myself. I need to get this out. “I thought you’d be cruel and heartless, just as you’ve always been. The Goddess of Death should be terrifying.”

“I can be,” she says defensively.

“But you’re not. Not really.” I reach up, covering her hand with mine. “You care deeply about everything. Your brother, that mortal girl, even me—though you’d never admit it.”

“I don’t—” she starts to protest, but I silence her with a look.

“In here, in this dream, you don’t have to pretend.” I shift closer, our faces now inches apart. “You don’t have to be the composed goddess hiding your wounds. You can just be Sienna.”

Gods, I wish she could just be Sienna out there. In reality . But she’d never allow herself the vulnerability.

At least now I know why.

Something in her expression breaks, a wall crumbling. “I’m tired of pretending,” she whispers. “Tired of being strong all the time.”

“Then don’t be. Not here.”

She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. The simple contact sends warmth through my entire body. “This is dangerous,” she murmurs. “Caring about you. About any of this.”

“I know.” I slide my arms around her, pulling her closer. She fits against me perfectly, her head tucked under my chin. In another world, we would have been made for each other. “But maybe some risks are worth taking.”

We sit like that for a long moment, just holding each other.

I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, steady and strong, and her legs straddling my waist. I try not to let myself think about the things I learned in New York, but the thoughts come unbidden.

No one else truly knows what Sienna and Sebastian have been going through during these mortal lives.

Even when Sebastian returns, he doesn’t let on what brutalities he met in his most recent life.

I always assumed it wasn’t that severe. But Sienna has had an entire reputation formed since her punishments began—the ruthless Goddess of Death, queen of Umbraeth.

No one wants to cross her and no one has anything positive to say.

Except her brother, the man who faced all the same atrocities.

Who wouldn’t tolerate anyone speaking negatively about her in his presence.

I thought it was simply sibling loyalty.

I should have realized the truth a long time ago. They have shared trauma. Invisible wounds that no one else knows about.

My arms tighten around her instinctively, as if they could protect her from the horrors of this punishment. I’ve never experienced anything like this—the simple comfort of being close to someone without barriers, without the weight of our divine roles. Without the expectation to take it further.

“Tell me something,” I say into her hair, desperate for a distraction. “Anything. As long as it’s real.”

She turns her head to look at me. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” My heart aches with the realization. I have the desire to know everything there is about her, and I can’t figure out why that might be. I pull back to meet her inquisitive stare. “What changed with you? From before you became the Goddess of Death?”

“What do you mean?”

The question nags at me. I know why she’s gotten so ruthless since the Divine Council made their ruling, but there was a subtle change before then. Now that I’m falling down the rabbit hole, I want to know everything.

“You were reckless. Impulsive, but carefree. You would dance on bar tops and kiss strangers. Sebastian and I were always the responsible ones who thought things through. You acted on instinct, on feeling. You acted as if the laws of the world didn’t apply to you. That expectations hardly affected you.”

The memories of that version of her flood my subconscious.

Of the period where they were being primed as gods of Life and Death, but not yet weighed down with the responsibility of it.

We were all wild back then, but Sienna was nearly feral.

When they took on their roles, I followed Sebastian and she was left to bear the transition alone.

I blink away the memories and focus on her face mere inches from mine. “When you took over Umbraeth, something shifted. Long before your punishment began. What changed?” I nearly whisper.

What started the process that turned her into the fearsome goddess she is today? The one with a reputation that sends chills down people’s spines at the mention of her name?

She’s quiet for so long I think she won’t answer. I can tell she’s choosing her words wisely. Probably deciding on a way to spin the truth just enough to answer my question without providing any real details. Even in my dreams, she’s capable of omitting information.