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Broken Dove

Broken Dove

Description : Broken Dove
Not His Plans

Apollo Ulfr saw the dancing lights against his closed eyelids before he felt the presence in the room.

He rolled out of the bed, grabbing the knife from underneath his pillow as he did so. Crouching by the bed, scanning the room even as his eyes became accustomed to the dark, suddenly he felt it and knew it was her.

The witch.

Valentine Rousseau.

Annoyed, seeing as it was the dead of night, he was naked, had not long before sent the Beniessienne whore to her own bed and he’d already told the witch his plans (and these were not the plans he’d shared with her, hence the whore who had left), and last, he was in Fleuridia to collect his children from boarding school so he could put them in a safe place before darkness settled on the land, he straightened, doing so speaking.

“Witch, I told you the time and place you were to bring her to me and this is not—”

She interrupted him, her voice, as usual, wry but there was an underlying urgency to it that made his skin prickle.

“If you want to meet the Ilsa of my world, I suggest you change your plans.”

Through the dark, Apollo narrowed his eyes on her slim shadow.

“And this means…?” he prompted when she said no more.

“This means, the Apollo of my world has found her.”

When last they spoke, she’d explained what that meant.

The Apollo Ulfr of the other world, his twin, was not a good man.

And he’d harmed Ilsa. Because of this, she was evading him.

Now his twin had found her.

Gods damn it. He’d waited...