Page 20 of Gods of Prey (Parallel Prey #3)

Sienna

I shouldn’t be doing this.

The thought echoes in my mind as I slip into the ethereal space between waking and sleeping, following the silver thread that connects me to Revel’s unconscious mind. It’s past midnight, and he’s finally succumbed to exhaustion after hours of pacing and planning our next move with Sebastian.

This is the second time I’ve invaded his dreams, though the first was purely accidental—a side effect of my spectral form bleeding into his subconscious when we were both stressed. Tonight, it’s deliberate. I need to understand him, to find some way past the walls he’s built between us.

The dreamscape materializes around me, and I’m surprised to find myself not in Aurelys or even Seattle, but in a place I don’t recognize.

Rolling hills stretch endlessly under a twilight sky, dotted with ancient oak trees whose leaves shimmer silver in the perpetual dusk.

It’s beautiful and melancholy, like something from a forgotten realm.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

I spin around to find Revel standing beneath one of the massive oaks, but this version of him is different.

His divine glamour is gone, replaced by something more raw and vulnerable.

His golden hair is mussed, his shirt unbuttoned to his belly button, and his gray eyes hold a warmth I’ve never seen in waking hours.

“You knew I was here?” I ask, moving toward him.

“I hoped.” His voice is softer than usual, lacking its typical edge. “Dreams are strange things. They let us want what we can’t have.”

I stop a few feet away, studying his face. “And what do you want, Revel?”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Things I shouldn’t. Things that would compromise everything we’re trying to accomplish.”

The confession hangs between us like a challenge. In the waking world, he would never admit such weakness. But here, in the space between conscious and unconscious, his defenses are down.

I think that’s why I keep coming back.

“Such as?” I press.

Instead of answering, he moves closer, and I realize I can feel the warmth of his skin even in this dream state. It’s intoxicating after so many days of existing as nothing but cold spirit.

“You tell me,” he murmurs, his eyes searching my face. “You’re the one who keeps invading my dreams.”

Heat creeps up my neck. Does he realize it’s really me? “It’s not intentional.”

“Isn’t it?” He reaches out, and I’m shocked when his fingertips actually graze my cheek. In dreams, apparently, even Death can be touched without causing the other person to recoil. “You could have stayed away. But you didn’t.”

His thumb traces along my jawline, and I lean into the contact despite myself. When was the last time anyone looked at me with tenderness instead of fear or loathing? When was the last time I allowed myself to be vulnerable?

“We’re enemies,” I whisper, though the words feel hollow. It’s mostly a reminder for myself. After tonight, it sure feels like we’re falling back into old patterns, despite how much I dread the thought.

“Are we?” His other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer. “Or are we just two beings trying to do what’s right and failing miserably?”

The honesty in his voice breaks something inside me. All the tension, all the arguments, all the carefully maintained distance—it crumbles at once.

“Revel...” I start, but he silences me by pressing his forehead against mine.

“Don’t think,” he breathes. “For once, just don’t think about duty or loyalty or consequences or secrets or what we’re supposed to be to each other.”

His lips find mine before I can protest, and the kiss is nothing like I expected.

It’s desperate and tender all at once, like he’s trying to communicate everything he can’t say in waking hours.

My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat pooling in my belly.

When we break apart, both of us are breathing hard.

“This is crazy,” I gasp.

“Probably.” His hands slide up my back, fingers tangling in my hair. “But I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this. Tired of fighting you when all I want is—” He stops himself.

“What?” I challenge, looking up into his eyes. “What do you want?”

Instead of answering with words, he shows me.

His mouth finds mine again, hungrier this time, and I respond with equal fervor.

We stumble backward until my back hits the rough bark of the oak tree, and he presses against me, his body solid and warm and real in ways that make me forget I’m supposed to be incorporeal.

“Sienna,” he groans against my neck, his voice rough with desire. “Gods, what you do to me...”

His admission sends a thrill through me that has nothing to do with divine power. When his lips find the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, I can’t suppress the soft moan that escapes.

“We shouldn’t,” I manage, my voice hardly above a breathy whisper, even as my hands explore the planes of his chest through his open shirt.

I shouldn’t be doing this. Not when he’s in such a vulnerable state.

This isn’t what I came here for.

“No, we shouldn’t,” he agrees, but his actions contradict his words as he lifts me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist. “But here, in this little pocket of the world, I can’t seem to stop myself when it comes to you.”

The bark is rough against my back, his body pressed intimately against mine. It’s overwhelming and perfect and everything I didn’t know I needed. When he moves against me, the friction sends sparks of electricity through my spine. Through my entire being.

“Please,” he whispers, and the word is broken, desperate. “I need?—”

“I know,” I breathe, understanding flooding through me. We both need this. The connection, the release, the momentary forgetting of everything that stands between us.

What follows is a blur of heated kisses and desperate touches, of whispered confessions and surrendered control. Revel fucks me like a god. With confidence and power and everything I’ve been missing in my mortal lives.

He worships my body with a reverence that makes me feel like a goddess in truth, rather than simply in title.

His tongue traces every curve and line of my skin, his lips trailing kisses so tender, I almost convince myself he doesn’t hate me.

And when I respond in kind, mapping the contours of his hard, chiseled body with my hands and mouth, he makes sounds that would make angels weep.

“Don’t stop,” he pleads when I pull his length out of my mouth with a pop of my lips, giving my mouth a break. His voice is wrecked when I stick my tongue out and run it from his base to his tip. “Please, Sienna, don’t stop,” he begs again.

The raw need undoes me completely. I lose myself in him, in the dream, in the impossible intimacy of two divine beings finding solace in each other’s arms. Once he finishes down my throat, he kneels before me and shoves my back into the thick, lush grass.

His palms press my thighs apart as his tongue trails down my body, only stopping when he reaches my center.

Then, he dives in once again, his tongue immediately finding the most sensitive spot that has my back arching off the ground as quiet moans pass my lips.

Just as I’m about to find my release he flips us around, yanking me onto his lap and over his waiting erection as he leans backward.

“Asshole,” I mutter, grabbing him up in my hand to line up his tip with my pulsing center.

His response is a wolfish grin that quickly dissolves away as his hands guide my hips downward

I take him a few inches, then pause and lift myself off him again. He frowns as I repeat the motion a few more times, until he finally catches onto what I’m doing.

If he wants to fuck with me, I’ll do it right back.

My victorious smile only lasts a few seconds before he grabs a hold of my hips, much tighter this time, and slams them down, forcing me to take all of him at once. I let out a yelp, then shift so I can take him more comfortably.

His cock hits a tender spot deep inside of me and I startle. The sensation has my eyes rolling in the back of my head. Pushing my hips forward, I lay my palms across his chest and start chasing my orgasm again, all our games aside.

Revel senses the shift and a brand new animal is awakened inside him.

He fucks me hard and fast, spinning us so my back is on the ground and he’s driving his hips against me.

This is nothing like the first time—when he was soft and tentative.

This time, he acts like he’s got something to prove.

Like he’s releasing all the pent-up energy we both feel from being stuck together in that tiny apartment.

Like he’s been dreaming of this for weeks.

Time becomes meaningless as we move together, chasing multiple releases that are as much emotional as they are physical.

When we finally collapse together, breathing hard and tangled in each other’s limbs, the dream meadow around us seems to glow with soft, golden light.

“This can’t be real,” Revel murmurs against my hair, his arms tightening around me.

The words hit me like ice water, reminding me of what I’ve done. He thinks this is just a dream—a fantasy his subconscious has conjured. He doesn’t realize I’m actually here, that every touch, every kiss, every whispered confession was real.

Guilt crashes over me in waves. I’ve violated his privacy. His autonomy. His trust. I’ve taken advantage of his vulnerable state to satisfy my own selfish desires.

“Sienna?” He pulls back to look at me, concern creeping into his eyes at whatever he sees in my expression. “What’s wrong?”

I can’t tell him. Can’t admit what I’ve done without destroying whatever fragile trust exists between us. Instead, I force a smile.

“Nothing. Just...This is beautiful.” I gesture to the glowing meadow. “Your subconscious has excellent taste.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my temple. “My subconscious has been thinking about you far too much lately.”

The admission makes my chest tighten with guilt and something dangerously close to hope.

“Revel,” I start, but he shakes his head.

“I know. When I wake up, we’ll go back to being enemies. Back to the mission and the duty and all the reasons this can never happen.” His arms tighten around me. “But for now, can we just be?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. We lie there in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin while I memorize the feel of being held, of being wanted, of being seen as more than just the Goddess of Death.

But even as I savor the moment, the guilt eats at me. This intimacy was built on a lie. He thinks he’s safe in his dreams, free to explore feelings he would never acknowledge in the waking world. And I’ve taken that safety from him without his knowledge or consent.

“I should go,” I whisper eventually.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice already thick with approaching sleep. “Please. Just a little longer.”

The plea in his voice—so different from his usual commanding tone—nearly breaks my resolve. But I know I can’t stay. Every moment I remain makes my deception worse.

I begin to pull away, and he whimpers at the loss of contact. “Sienna, please,” he breathes, reaching for me even in his sleep. “Don’t leave me.”

The broken sound of my name on his lips will haunt me forever. I lean down and press one last kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of tears I didn’t realize I was crying.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I know he can’t hear me. “I’m so sorry.”

I withdraw from his mind as gently as I can, feeling the dream dissolve around us. The last thing I see is his peaceful face, finally relaxed in sleep, unaware of what I’ve stolen from him.

Back in my own ethereal form, floating in the darkened apartment, I’m overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I’ve done. I’ve crossed a line that can never be uncrossed, taken something that wasn’t freely given.

And the worst part? Despite the guilt eating me alive, I can’t bring myself to regret it entirely. Because for a few stolen moments, I felt alive again. I felt wanted. I felt like more than just duty and death and endless punishment.

But as I watch Revel sleep, his face peaceful and trusting, I make a silent vow. I won’t invade his dreams again. Whatever this thing between us is, it has to develop honestly, in the waking world, or not at all.

Even if it kills me to stay away.

Even if the memory of his whispered pleas and desperate touches haunts every moment of my existence.

Some lines, once crossed, can never be uncrossed. And some guilt, once earned, can never be absolved.

I float to the window and stare out at the sleeping city, carrying the weight of my deception and the echo of his voice calling my name.

Don’t leave me.

But I already have. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know it.