BOOK 5 - MUSETTE

Each step she didn't see the man in the jacket, she felt lighter, until by the time she reached her apartment and closed the door behind her, things seemed okay. The situation with Idris had been awkward, but it wasn't unsalvageable. She just wouldn't mention mysterious men in jackets again, and play off her hasty exit next time she saw him.

Her studio apartment smelled like Christmas -- candy canes and pine trees. It was her favorite time of year. She hit a switch to turn on the twinkly icicle lights strung around her space year-round, and went into the tiny kitchen to forage for dinner. Leftover Chinese. Leftover pizza. Leftover Greek. Leftover Mexican. Apparently she had problems finishing things -- like any meal she had delivered to her home and blundering attempts at "Are you my soulmate?" conversations.

A quesadilla sounded perfect. How could anyone go wrong with cheese? Opening a beer, she took a long pull and set the bottle down on the kitchen counter while her dinner warmed in the microwave.

Angela scooped up her fish food and crossed the room to the twisty aquarium that housed her betta fish -- one red, the other green. They could see each other, but not fight one another. She sprinkled food for each of them. "Hello, Pepper and Mint." They ignored her as they ate like they were starved.

She moved to the window to pull the curtains, ready to close out the dark. Her new resolve and sense of peace shattered. There, in the parking lot, stood the man in the hooded jacket. He knew where she lived! He tilted his head up, trapping her in his gaze despite the hood hiding his eyes, and raised one hand toward her.

She yanked the curtains closed, gripping the thick material in her curled fingers. Unable to resist, she parted the fabric an inch and peeked out. No one was there. Maybe she didn't have a stalker.

Between imagining him and her dreams about Idris...

Maybe she was only losing her mind.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 4

CHAPTER FIVE

MUSETTE

Musette pulled on her pink flannel pajamas and a pair of thick, warm purple socks. She checked the clock on her phone. 12:05AM on December 4. It was officially Sock Day. Which also meant Cookie Day. And every day was unofficially Ice Cream Day. Days to celebrate three things were a good sign. Surely nothing bad would happen today. Maybe her feeling about Ember was a mistake.

She dunked her Oreo into a glass of milk for exactly five and a half seconds and ate her snack. Happy Cookie Day to me.

The book she was reading rested on her nightstand. A joke Ember thought was hilarious, about a trespassing Goldilocks and her reverse harem of three bear shifters. Men who turned into bears. Ridiculous. Three men at once sounded like something Ember would do. At least, until she got mad and murdered them in their sleep. Musette was a one-man woman, and definitely a one-man-at-a-time-woman.

But she read the book to spite her twin. Musette was a sucker for romance, no matter how it worked out for those involved, as long as they ended up happy. She climbed into her comfy bed and snuggled down as she picked up her book.

"Of course it's raining now," Goldilocks muttered. "Because getting lost in the forest at night isn't bad enough."

"GPS is a thing, you know." Musette dunked another cookie. "And appropriate clothing. Really, who goes traipsing around a forest at night in a miniskirt and stilettos? Women who end up with three strange men at the same time, that's who, you strumpet." She shoved her milky cookie into her mouth to stop her judging.

She removed her favorite heels to save them from mud and trudged through the sudden downpour. Water slid beneath her corset, making it slide and chafe as she moved. The forest seemed a lot bigger than it should be. Maybe she should have just caught a cab instead of taking the shortcut.

What was that ahead of her? Part of the grey rock face was darker than the surrounding area. A cave would keep her dry until the rain stopped..

"Bad idea, Goldilocks." Musette sniffed at how like Ember that statement sounded.

She entered the cavern. The black rock wasn't exactly cozy, but it blocked the wind and rain. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating three tunnels. Goldilocks huddled on the ground and tried to sleep. Things would be better in the morning.

"Someone's been sleeping in our den," a deep voice growled.

Musette opened her eyes. Three huge red-haired men with tattoos were closing in around her from three sides.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone lived here." She scrambled away until she hit the cave wall, cold stone pressing against her back. "I didn't touch anything. I just wanted a place to stay dry until the rain stopped."

"That's too bad," Man One murmured. He nudged Man Two. "We like our women wet."

Musette gasped, and her cheeks flamed.

Man Three reached for her.

She scrambled to her feet and darted beneath outstretched arms to run back into the rain, icy drops pelting her bare skin.

"A chase!" The men whooped behind her.

Wait. When had this become her and not Goldilocks? She must have fallen asleep and now she was having some weird dream. One too many cookies before bed.

Or maybe not enough cookies. That was more likely.

Musette fled down a trail that wound through thick trees. Cold mud squished between her toes and splattered her legs. Her pedicure was definitely ruined.

"I'm not having fun anymore." She skidded in a slimy patch and fell on her butt, her head slamming into the mire. Her hair and manicure were ruined too. Gross. Gross. Gross!

"I want to wake up now." That's how people woke up from dreams, wasn't it? She just had to keep telling herself this wasn't real.

Three sets of footsteps pounded behind her, and a bear roared. And who knew what those... man-bears thought they were going to do to her!

Wake up. Wake up. Wake. Up!

She remained stuck in the mud. Why wasn't it working?

Heavy breathing closed in behind her. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Musette slipped and slid to her feet. As she sprinted down the path, a woman with green eyes and red hair stood to the side with her arms crossed. She wore purple and blue plaid pants, a visor on her head and a tree next to her propped up a bag of golf clubs. "This isn't right at all." She spoke with a lilt as she frowned at Musette.

What the....

There hadn't been a character like her in that stupid book. Musette came to a stumbling halt. Who was she? The woman resembled Ember. Definitely the same color eyes, though her hair wasn't quite the correct shade of red. "What do you mean, this isn't right?"

"Must I do everything myself, even after all this time? What is wrong with this generation?" the woman muttered. "I'm going to be late for my tee time."

Musette blinked water out of her eyes and pushed her hair out of her face. "What --"

The forest changed. Taller trees, but not as plentiful, and everything became a brighter shade of green. Pounding footsteps vanished along with the rain, leaving her clean, dry, and in a lovely golden sundress that reached mid-calf -- a much more appropriate outfit than that hussy Goldilocks had left her wearing.

Musette touched her hair, half afraid it would be a snarled mess, but it fell down her back in the proper straight, shiny layers. Her manicure and pedicure, free of mud and slime, gleamed in ten shades of pink and ten of purple. She breathed out a sigh of relief. This was more like it. "Hello?"

Nothing happened. I'm still ready to wake up. Stupid book. Stupid dream. Maybe she had to make it to the end of whatever was happening here. She was going to murder Ember.

Soft grass tickled Musette's bare feet as she climbed to the top of a low hill and turned in a circle. More trees. A blue sky. What was she supposed to do?

Where was that woman who had to do everything herself? Playing golf? I'm more like Alice in Wonderland than Goldilocks now. Although, that had been croquet, hadn't it? And tea like the drink. Not tee like in golf. She laughed.

A red-haired man wearing only tight black leather pants and tattoos appeared.

And why did everyone in this weird dream have red hair?

With his back to her, muscles rippled as he put his hands on his hips and tilted his head and stood face up to the sun.

"Are you as confused as me?" Why bother asking him? He was in her dream. So, that meant he only knew what she knew, right? Psychology had never been her best subject.

He spun. Blue eyes in a square-jawed, handsome face roamed over her, head to bare toes. "Who are you?"

Now that was a deep voice she wouldn't mind hearing more of. A sensation like pop rocks ricocheted through her stomach.

The ink on his naked, muscled chest swirled into a mass that formed the face of a bear.

Not bears again! Ugh. She was so throwing that book away first thing. And he didn't know as much as she did. Musette took a step backward. "Okay, well, I'm going to go try to wake up."

Musette took another step and turned away, only to crash into a hard, muscled chest. Nose to nose with the bear tattoo, its eyes seemed alive and its fur smelled like warm sunshine. The fur would be so soft.

Tempted to trace the thick lines of Celtic design, and the ridges of the man's abdomen -- really, a shirtless man with muscles like this and in her dream was just asking to be touched -- she jerked her hand away and moved back, needing some distance.

Boundaries, Musette!

Strong hands caught her biceps and held her in place. "Who are you?"

Why was he asking her?

He lowered his head to her neck and inhaled.

Why was he smelling her?

The man pushed her back and rubbed the bear on his chest. "I see colors, but you don't have a scent."

Musette gasped. She had used her strawberry shampoo and chocolate scented lotion right before bed -- she smelled delicious! Although... maybe she shouldn't be pointing that out to strangers.

A curled finger lifted her chin, and he was kissing her.

Why was he kissing her?

Why was she letting him?

As his lips moved over hers, a delicious heat spread through her, making her bones feel like melted chocolate.

Oh. Maybe that was why.

One of his arms pulled her closer, his hand leaving a fiery trail through her dress. Musette set her palms on his chest. His tattoo felt alive, moving under her fingertips.

He took his sweet time, dusting her mouth with soft kisses, nipping her bottom lip, slipping his tongue inside on a breath. Somewhere along the way, his hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kisses.

His body was all hard planes against her soft curves, and she moaned into his mouth when he nudged his hips into her, the ridge of his arousal pressing into her belly. A spike of pleasure shot through her at the contact.

Everything felt right.

She wanted more, but he held still and kept kissing her. The glide of his tongue with hers made her delirious. Until he slowed his kiss, easing away and lifting his head.

Why had he stopped? She opened her eyes.

The bear tattoo had moved up and covered his face.

It was all wrong! All wrong! Musette screamed, tore herself out of his embrace, and staggered back.

He dropped to all fours. His leather pants ripped as his body grew bigger and changed into a bear, except the face, which was only the tattoo.

Not again!

It was time to wake up.

Musette sprinted for the trees.

The tattoo-face bear pursued her as she fled. Heavy paws thundered when they impacted the ground.

Closer. Closer.

What had the woman said before? "This isn't right at all! This isn't right at all!" It wasn't working. "There's no place like home! Abra cadabra! Presto! I want to wake up!"

The sounds of pursuit vanished.

Her relief was short-lived as a heavy weight slammed into her back and took her down. She shrieked, seeing the dirt come up fast. The world spun, and she landed on the bear's stomach. He rolled, putting her on the ground, then a massive paw turned her face up and the bear stood over her.

Musette caught a scream in her throat as she woke and sat up. Soft pink walls. Her neon pink and purple comforter. Comfy pajamas and socks.

No bears in sight.

Definitely no redheads.

She pressed a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart as the stupid book thunked to the floor.

What a strange dream.

CHAPTER SIX

IDRIS

What the fuck? Idris sat up, rubbing his chest over his non-beating heart. For a second, when he first saw that mysterious blonde, he would have sworn his heart was going to beat. Every muscle, every sinew, every cell in him had tightened in anticipation.

But his heart hadn't beat. Hadn't even twitched.

Because that was impossible. There weren't Dragăs anymore. There hadn't been in a thousand years.

It was probably a good thing his capacity for emotions had diminished when he'd been turned into a vampire. Disappointment like that could crush a man.

Why was he dreaming about a blonde? Not that she hadn't been stunning, but it was rare he dreamed at all, much less about women he didn't know. And he'd definitely remember if he'd met her before.

He picked up a lighter and lit the candles on his bedside table, illuminating the dark red walls of his room at Club Saol, and the dark sheets on his bed.

The club. Tabitha was working here tonight. The building was still standing. Was it safe to go out yet? She and Stryx were like fire and... more fire. A friend wouldn't let Stryx face that woman alone. A true friend would avoid that situation entirely, so Stryx wouldn't have to feel bad for killing his best friend as collateral damage.

Let Melchior handle that. He was bigger and could take more damage.

Idris had his own woman to wonder about at the moment.

A glance down at his tattoos reassured him all the ones that should be on his chest and abdomen were there. His bear lived on his back. Even now, he could feel soft fingertips on his chest, drawing at long dormant magic.

Who was that woman? Why had he chased her?

Well, he knew why he'd chased her. She ran. And he'd wanted her. His tattoos, especially his bear, wanted her. Lust like that hadn't overtaken him in... maybe ever.

He was still hard from kissing her.

Idris picked up the sketch pad he always kept by his bed. They were all over the place, since he never knew when inspiration would strike.

Over the last three thousand years, unless the drawing was for a client, he'd only drawn one woman. But tonight, for the first time, he drew someone else.

Long golden hair. Lush curves. Emerald green eyes. Red lips. Pale, porcelain skin. Gold dress. Her fingernails and toenails painted in different shades of pink and purple.

He'd never seen so many colors on one woman before.

And, around her -- green trees and a blue sky. Blue sky!

He had dreamed in color. Vibrant colors.

That had never happened in nearly three thousand years.

Of all the things that changed for him when he turned vampire, he missed colors the most.

His mystery woman took form on paper and a tiny part of him, deep inside his heart, wished he could bring her to life.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MUSETTE

Trying to sleep after that dream would be pointless. Musette stared at the photographs of the bride and her bridesmaids on her phone, reaching for the part of her sixth sense that allowed her to know things. She could usually get a feel for how her clients wanted to look, but after trying to distract herself for hours, all she felt was dread.

She tried to analyze her feeling like her aunt had taught her. Holding up the photos again, she concentrated. Her unease wasn't coming from any of those women. Her thoughts drifted towards her aunt. Nope, not her. Ember. An icy sensation coiled in her stomach. Something was going to happen to her sister. But what?

No way to know. But as often as Musette wanted to strangle Ember, she had to tell her. And risk being teased mercilessly.

Rubbing her dry eyes, she ran her hands through her hair, twisting it into a sloppy knot. Her hands flew up to correct the mess, then dropped. What was the point? Ember didn't care how neat Musette's hair was.

There was nothing else to do. Musette sighed. Her twin always made fun of her. Well, Gingerbread Head could make fun of her if she wanted. Musette would never forgive herself if she didn't say anything and something happened to Ember. Maybe it would be a miracle and her twin would believe her this time. This feeling felt worse.

A check of her phone revealed it was almost three in the morning. There might be a small reprieve. Ember would be asleep, so Musette could just open the door to Ember's bedroom, make sure she slept peacefully, then go back to her vigil. As long as her twin was asleep, she was fine. Even she couldn't get in trouble when she was unconscious. Musette could put off the ridiculing... and the fight, because Ember's temper... Musette pitied anyone on the wrong side of an angry Ember. Being a twin didn't save her from that.

And the things she felt when Ember was angry -- such fathomless rage and hungry vengeance. It was no wonder she had such a temper.

Musette tiptoed across the hardwood floor dotted with pink and purple carpets, cracked her door open and peeked into the hallway. Light streamed under Ember's door.

No, no, no.

Not another one of Ember's sunrise excursions to take more pictures of things she already had pictures of!

She darted from the safety of her bedroom and burst into Ember's domain.

Her twin didn't look up from the backpack in her hands, but she knew Musette had invaded. "You're worried about nothing again." Ember used her patient-but-not-really-patient-tone. "I'm going to be fine."

"No, you can't go!" The keys! Musette marched across the room and snatched them off the bed. "I won't let you."

"I have more than one set." Of course, her well-organized, ready-for-anything sister had spares.

Ember turned around with what she probably thought was a smile that would put Musette at ease.

It wasn't. It didn't.

"I'll have my cell and satellite phones." Ember frowned as she looked Musette up and down. "I'll call if I need help, but I'm just going to hike into the park, shoot the sunrise, hang out for the day, and get some shots of the sunset. I'll be home tonight. I promise."

Musette resisted the urge to re-button her misaligned top and fix her hair. "I just have a feeling something terrible is going to happen." She bit her lip. "Can't you wait until someone can go with you? I have to do makeup for an entire wedding party today, but I could go tomorrow. You could wait one day."

Ember knew Musette hated sunrise trips. Surely she'd see this was important. But she didn't. "There's a storm forecast for tomorrow and nothing but foul weather in the mountains for days after that. This is my last chance to get the shots I want for the show next week. And Viktoria needs time with the images so she can paint. It's not fair to make her rush."

That was all true, but... Musette paced, fidgeting with a loose string on the hem of her pajama top. "Don't you already have enough pictures for the show? You have like two million you've never used for anything."

Shaking her head, Ember clipped a sleeping bag to her backpack and slung it to the floor. "We don't have these last shots. Besides, the days are getting shorter. I want to enjoy the sun while I can."

Mentioning a feeling wouldn't help. She clenched her fists, but her phone in one hand prevented her. "Call me when you arrive. And after sunrise, every hour during the day, at sunset, and when you're on your way home."

Ember narrowed her eyes. "What's got you so spooked? You've had your 'sixth sense' about me before and nothing happens. I've always been okay."

Musette sighed. "I know you don't believe in my feelings, but I do. And it just feels... I don't know... different this time."