Queen of His Heart (The Brides of Mordenne #3) - Jeanette Lynn Page 0,2

insanity took me. It couldn’t be any worse than what I was dealing with when my eyes closed at night and I drifted off. Initially, I’d never known if I’d be visited that night or not, back when he’d tried to pretend to be something of a dream to me. Thinking of the creature from then and now, how easily he flipped the script, that was part of the mental pain and the terror. I feared he’d wear me down to the point I’d do something irreversible. I was no one’s disposable dolly. He called himself my master. He grew hungrier, more demanding, angry, raging, even. Now his visits were pure torment.

“I said I was to take you home,” Segrid said simply, which wasn’t saying much.

“Not my home,” I sang snarkily.

His deep chuckle made me want to smirk. He laughed louder when I did. We’d just had a moment. I knew the second he realized this, the widest grin I’d yet to see nearly splitting his boxy features.

“What do you think of dreams?” I blurted suddenly. Did the boogeyman bother with dreams in Mordenne? Was there one? I knew of Sandmen. I’d actually sought a Sandman out to help me with my little dreamwalking problem, but all I’d been told after one good long look at my neck was that they didn’t get involved in that sort of thing. Fat lot of good they were. I’d been gun shy with everyone, reluctant to rehash any part of my problem, after that.

And, yes, I knew exactly what this place was called. I should. I’d been born in Mordenne. Mama had sat me down when I was about fourteen to explain a few things to me about how I’d come to be, my existence in this world, expectations, etc. She’d received an odd letter weeks before and was on pins and needles ever since. I’d had no clue there was anything different about me. For all that it had manifested, it really wasn’t that obvious.

Discovering my mother was from a long line of weak blooded witches wasn’t as shocking as the news that Daddy, the only father I’d ever known, wasn’t my biological father but the man who’d fallen in love with my mother, not her true mate but a Human she’d gone as gaga over him as he had her, and he’d chosen to love me and raise me as if I was his own. To Daddy, I was his. There was no difference to that man between Penny and me. We were both his babies and he’d made sure we knew it.

Pen had no idea about any of this, and per Mama’s wishes until she’d thought Pen was ready, I’d planned to keep it that way. Actually, I hadn’t planned to tell her at all in the end. I’d already lost both of my parents, like hell would I lose her, too. I wouldn’t survive it. And, apparently, without whatever protections Mama had placed over me, gone with her death, I’d been left vulnerable. The only upside I’d found, was in Penny being spared my fate. What would she think, knowing her sibling was harboring so many secrets, one amongst them that she was part freak? I thought I was a freak.

Curling my hands in my lap, I stared at them. My finger traced the seam where one of my finger’s webbing had been removed when I’d been little. I didn’t remember them, but the scars told of their existence. I didn’t shift. It was explained to me I’d been born with one form, a webbed freak of a Human. And I supposed that was why I’d felt connected to Merfolk. I was one but I wasn’t. In the end, I didn’t really fit in with them, either. I didn’t fit in anywhere...

“What of dreamwalkers?” the Troll asked, his thick, fuzzy red eyebrows furrowing. Purple eyes found my clear green-blues as we stopped at a light. Eyeing me, he cocked his head.

“What do Parakind have to do with them? Ah, with it? Can they… not?” I mumble-muttered under my breath. Unable to meet his searching gaze, I shifted in my seat until I was staring out the window. My fingers clenched together until my knuckles hurt.

The Troll was an odd one, but he was honest. A tiny niggle of warmth filled me. I stopped questioning my gut when it came to the Troll, though I wasn’t certain the exact moment when. Segrid was safe. My body screamed with the fact,