Theo has black hair like me, and his eyes are blue, which he gets from Derek, though the shape of his eyes is different, so they don’t remind me of Derek in the slightest.

Rose’s hair is brunette, and it curls at the edges, and she has a smile that forces me into spoiling her.

I don’t know which child my baby is, but I know I love either equally and that we will be the thickest of thieves.

When I finally drift off to sleep, I dream of Theo and Rose and me and Evander.

When I wake, it’s to a pool of water in my bed and a constricting pain and the sound of my own screams.

CHAPTER 18

The parasite had spent many mooncycles smothered underneath the weight of her many hosts’ consciousnesses. One would have thought she’d be used to it by now, and in some ways, she was.

But that didn’t stop her from relishing the cool chill that snaked over her current host’s plain body when Blaise’s grip on her mind went slack and the parasite coaxed the reins from her grasp.

The parasite didn’t bother shifting this time, though it pained her to keep her beautiful creation, her stunning Cinderella, locked away.

Only for another mooncycle, the parasite thought to herself as if her preferred body could hear her.

When the parasite succeeded in her plan to wrestle control of this body away from Blaise entirely, then she’d never have to wear Blaise’s sickly skin or her drab hair again.

But for now, it was Blaise’s body the parasite found useful.

They had meant to keep the parasite locked away tonight. Blaise had warned her captors that the parasite could be manipulative, that she was better off ignored lest she deal damage.

The younger male had been hesitant to agree, and even as she lurked in the shadows of Blaise’s desperate mind, the parasite had noted his curiosity, his desire to speak with the ancient magic he scrambled daily to extract.

The younger male had promised, but the parasite knew better than to assume he was still bound by the fae curse.

The older had made no such promise. These were males of magic. Males of science. And there was nothing even the charming Blaise could say that would keep them away.

Or so the parasite thought.

She waited an hour.

And then another.

She soon began to worry that perhaps the males wouldn’t come after all.

It made no sense that they would honor their commitment to Blaise. Though Gunter was fae and could not dishonor his vows, Nox was something different. Something she’d only ever encountered once before in all her years wandering within this realm. The younger of the males possessed the capability to lie, and the parasite had been sure that was what he had done.

Blaise had begged him not to come, but the curiosity in the boy’s eyes had been so sharp, so hungry… The parasite could not fathom why Blaise’s desperation had been so convincing. It had been written all over the male’s face: he longed to satisfy his curiosities about such an ancient magic.

The parasite supposed she had underestimated the boy’s affection for the girl Blaise.

Alas, that was fine. There was one thing she was certain she had not underestimated his desire for.

The parasite obtained a scalpel from the males’ workbench and pressed it to the vein in Blaise’s wrist until a droplet of blood appeared, staining Blaise’s blotchy skin.

Only minutes passed before Nox arrived.

When the key fumbled in the lock, the parasite itched to grab at the nearest lamppost and crack the boy’s skull with it, but she restrained herself. As much as she wished to escape, fleeing from the castle would do nothing to crush the shackles that bound her to Blaise’s mind, the iron grip that stifled her at all times except for when the full moon crested the horizon.

So she allowed the boy to enter unscathed.

It wasn’t as if she could have truly killed him, anyway. His kind were not so easy to slay.

When Nox entered the room, the parasite allowed herself the pleasure of indulging in the way Blaise’s mortal heart fluttered, the way her cheeks heated at the sight of him.

The blood rushing into the girl’s face would serve its purpose.

He was beautiful in his own way, the parasite supposed. Not with the robust look of the Prince of Dwellen, but in a strikingly haunting sort of way. She’d spent many a time admiring Nox through Blaise’s eyes, imagining tracing the shadows underneath his eerie blue eyes with her thumb, fantasizing about running her fingers—Cinderella’s, not Blaise’s—through his tousled black hair.

She did not want him like she wanted Evander—with an ever-present ache that gnawed at her consciousness like a leech.

But she wanted him all the same, and she supposed she would let herself have him when the time was right.

“Blaise,” Nox said, his striking gaze fixated upon the droplet of blood that bulged on the parasite’s wrist. He sounded drunk, and the parasite recognized the signs of emerging bloodlust: the way his knuckles paled as he clenched his fingers, the slight slur in his words, the longing pouring off of him as he stared at her.

The scent of Blaise’s blood must have stirred him from sleep, because his eyelids blinked with effort, as if he were fighting to keep them open.

Still, the fact that Nox didn’t attack her indicated he’d likely been dosing himself with animal blood religiously.

The parasite decided it was better this way—that the boy hadn’t been driven here by his own curiosity. He was so clearly disoriented, his mind so muddled by sleep and bloodlust, it would take no effort to have her way with him.

The droplet of blood slid down her wrist and lingered on the curve of her bone.

Nox, stirred by the flow of blood, was on her in an instant, pressing her back into the dais and pinning her there.

Blaise’s body flooded with desire, a desire of which the parasite was more than happy to partake.

“Would you like a taste?” The parasite marveled as her voice came out sounding not in the sultry drawl of Cinderella, but the casual, effortless voice of her host.

A sly heady grin crept upon Nox’s lips, and when he spoke, it was not as the parasite expected. She wasn’t exactly sure what she had been expecting. Perhaps a grief to his tone that belied his inner torture, the longing for Blaise’s blood battling with his obvious fondness for the girl herself. Perhaps she expected the dripping seduction she’d so often heard in the only other creature she’d met like this boy.

But when Nox spoke, it was with neither torture nor possession.

“I don’t know,” he teased. “What are you going to ask for in return?”

There was a casualness in his tone the parasite had yet to hear, even through Blaise’s ears. When he spoke, it was as if to a lover who had been a close friend long before the relationship evolved.

It was then the parasite realized; Nox believed himself to be dreaming.

Curiosity, that treacherous nosy thing, sniffed at the air and scuttled into the parasite’s thoughts.

Nox believed himself to be dreaming, and this was how the boy would act if completely unrestrained by the consequences of the mortal world.