It’s a great resource for me. Now I don’t have to worry about not knowing my way around.” She couldn’t

help looking at his hands, which more closely resembled massive paws than an artist’s delicate tools. “How

dwalСЂr mid you do it?”

For a moment he didn’t answer and then, slowly, he lifted his left hand. It was man-shaped, but bigger, with

thicker, more powerful fingers than even what she imagined would be normal for a pro football linebacker.

“They’re really more dexterous than they look,” he said. “I have spent centuries learning to wield them.”

Spreading his fingers, his hand quivered, and from each fingernail bed a long, pointed, talonlike claw

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extended.

“Shit on a shingle!” she gasped.

He barked a rough laugh. “Is that a curse?”

She drew her spine up straight. “Yes. A very bad one. I should watch my language, but you . . .” Her words

ran out and she could only gaze at the five dangerous knives his fingers had become.

“I frightened you,” he finished for her.

“No,” she said quickly. “You didn’t scare me, you just surprised me.” She met his eyes. “May I touch them?”

“Yes . . .” The word rumbled from deep within his chest.

She touched one of the gleaming claws. “You’re like Wolverine.”

“I’m like a small, mean-tempered animal?”

“No.” Fascinated, she stared at the claw. It felt cold and hard against the pad of her finger. “It’s the name of a

fictional character who was created for something called comic books in my old world. Actually, he probably

was named after the animal. He’s a man who has special abilities. One of which is that he can make claws

come out of his hands, like you can.”

The Guardian didn’t take his eyes from his hands, where she was still tracing his claw with the soft warmth of

her finger.

“And is this Wolverine a demon, shunned and rejected by the rest of the comic book characters?”

“He seems to get himself in more than his share of trouble, but he’s really a man with a good heart who tries

hard to do the right thing.” She finally raised her eyes to his. “After you get to know him you understand that

the only demon within him is the one he imagines in his own imperfections.” Mikki couldn’t look away from

him. His dark eyes devoured her sense of reason. Reality bent until it wasn’t important what he was, as long

as he kept looking at her like that—like she was his world.

With a little tremor, she felt his claws retract and she realized that her hand was resting within his. With a

nervous laugh, she pulled her hand quickly to her side. “So you actually use your claws as quills?”

“Yes, Empousa.” His expression hardened into unreadable lines again.

Mikki’s stomach clenched. She didn’t want him to retreat from her, so before she sat back down she reached

over and placed her hand gently on his forearm. His eyes shot to hers, but he didn’t speak, nor did he pull

away from hert tСЂ hi touch.

“Thank you for this beautiful map. It is exactly what I need to organize the women tomorrow.”

“You are most welcome, Empousa.”

She smiled and then returned to her chair. “I wish you would call me Mikki. I like being High Priestess, but

there are times when I just want to be me.”

“If you would not mind,” his deep voice rumbled between them, “I would prefer to call you Mikado. It is a

lovely rose, and I find that it reminds me of you.”

She felt a thrill of pleasure at his compliment. “I don’t mind. I like the way my name sounds when you say

it—like there’s some kind of secret hidden within the word.”

“Perhaps there is,” he said.

“Perhaps . . .” she said. She was falling into his gaze again, losing herself . . .

“I should go,” he said abruptly, breaking their gaze and beginning to stand.

“Not yet!” Leaning forward, she caught his hand and felt the jolt that went through him when their flesh

touched. “Stay a little longer and have one more glass of wine with me.” When he relaxed back into his chair,

she reluctantly released his hand and then busied herself refilling both of their wine goblets. “I know I should

be exhausted, and my body is, but my mind keeps going around and around with all the things I need to do

tomorrow and all the things I should have gotten done today.”

“You accomplished much today. You should be pleased.”

“I am. I’m just impatient to get to work on the rest of the gardens.” He nodded. “It is important that the roses

heal and thrive. They are the foundation of our realm and its strength. It is dangerous for them to be unwell.”

“Can you tell me what it is in the forest that you’re so worried about?” she asked quietly.

“Dream Stealers.”

“That’s what Hecate called them, too, but I have no idea what that means. All I know is that you and she, and

by the way the women who went into the forest stayed quiet and frightened looking, everyone in this realm

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believes they’re dangerous. I get that, but I don’t get what they are.”

“Dream Stealers take different forms, depending upon their victim. That is one reason they are so dangerous.

The face they would show you would be different from the one they would show one of your handmaidens.”

“So they’re physical beings?”

“They can take physical forms, yes.” He paused and studied her carefully. “In your old world, there must

have been Dream Stealers. Perhaps they just chose to personify yet another form there.”

She thought about the young gang members who were regulars in the ER until they inevitably ended up in the

morgue or the state penitentiary—about the statistics that reported Oklahoma as one of the states

with/foСЂyou the largest number of teen pregnancies, as well as reports of child abuse—and about the

ridiculously high number of Oklahoma women who lived in poverty.

“You’re right. There are Dream Stealers in my old world. Young men throw away their lives; girls repeat

cycles of abuse until they can see no way out; terrible things happen every day.”

“And what causes those things to happen? What is at the heart of those tragedies?”

“Hatred, ignorance, apathy,” she said.

“Exactly. And those are just some of the Dream Stealers that lurk in the forest of the crossroads between

worlds. If they would enter our realm, they would be able to not simply destroy people’s lives, but the dreams

on which generations survive.”

“You’ll keep them out, won’t you?”

“I have sworn a life oath to do so.”

“You should have told me all this earlier.” Mikki shivered, feeling sick at the thought that she’d insisted he

open the gate and let the women go into the forest. “No, it’s not your fault. You tried to tell me that it was

dangerous; I should have listened to you.”

“You did what you believed was best for the roses. No harm was done; I was there to guard the gate. I will

always be there to guard the gate.”

“But if those things are in the forest, why is there a gate at all? Shouldn’t we seal it up and be sure it’s never

opened again?”

“We cannot. Mikado, not everything in the forest is evil. You should know that even dreams must be

tempered with reality from time to time. Our reality comes from the forest and the threads of reality that drift

there from the worlds beyond.”

“First thing tomorrow you’ll check all the rest of the hedge to be sure no other area has been weakened by

the roses being sick?”

“I will. You may rest easily, Mikado. The realm is safe under my protection.”

She knew what he said was the truth—she knew it because she felt it deep within her blood. All her intuition

told her that this incredible man-beast would give his life to keep the Realm of the Rose, and its Empousa,

safe.

“Thank you.”

This time instead of bristling at her appreciation, he simply bowed his head slightly.

For a while they sipped their wine, each lost in their own thoughts.

“May I ask you another question?” Mikki said.

“You may.” He was looking at her with an open, interested expression.

“When I asked you if you could teach me to conjure things, you said you couldn’t because only someone

born of a Titan had that ability. Just exactly who were your parents?”

He dmorСЂcouidn’t respond to her question for a long time, weighing whether he should tell her his story, or

whether he should stay silent and remain a mystery to her—a mystery that she would eventually tire of trying

to solve.

The thought made him feel crushingly alone.

When he began to speak, his powerful voice was unusually subdued, and he could not look at her. Instead, he

stared blankly out into the night.

“My father is the Titan Cronos. One day he visited the ancient island of Crete and was struck by more than

the beauty of the land amidst sea. He saw and instantly fell in love with the fair Pasiphea. But she was no

mindless maiden. Pasiphea knew that mortals who become lovers of the gods usually come to tragic endings,

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so she refused the Titan. Cronos was not dissuaded by her rejection—he waited and watched. When Minos,

king of Crete, chose Pasiphea as his bride, my father saw his opportunity. On Minos’s wedding night, he

drugged the king and took his likeness, as well as his bride’s virginity. Minos was fooled, as was Pasiphea. But

Cronos’s wife, Rhea, was not. She suspected her husband’s infidelity and confronted Cronos. He denied

loving Pasiphea. And in truth, he did not lie. Once he’d sated his desire for the mortal woman, his love faded.

Still, Rhea was not satisfied. She watched Pasiphea, discovering that the new bride was pregnant. In a fit of

jealous anger, Rhea cursed Pasiphea’s child. If, indeed, it was the son of a Titan, the child would be born not

man or god, but an abomination, a creature like none other in the ancient world. That is how I came into

being.”

“You are what the myth of the Minotaur was based on!”

Bottomless and empty, his eyes found hers. “That is the name Minos gave me. He loathed me from the

moment I was born.”

“And your mother?”

“Pasiphea was kinder than her husband. She even used to secretly visit me, and I remember when I was

young, she sometimes sang me to sleep.” He paused, struggling to control his emotions.

“Your mother loved you.”

He flinched and felt as if her words physically hurt him. “I like to believe that she tried to love me. She named

me Asterius, refusing to call me by the name Minos had given me, but even in her kindness she could not

forget that I was a beast. She knew that because of my monstrous form, Cronos had somehow been successful