by Lyssa Dering
“Hey, that tattoo on your neck. Does it have any special meaning, or is it just for decoration?”
“You didn’t hear?” Char beams at me over her shoulder. “It’s for you. Like ‘wish upon a star.’ A lot of us are getting them.”
A warmth spreads over me that I haven’t felt in a long time. “That’s really sweet, Char.”
Inside the house, I’m heading for the shower when I feel my phone buzz in my tracksuit pants. Looks like Mercer has been trying to reach me since 9 a.m. “Shit.”
Found Lake walking around butt naked on Sunrise. Bringing him by
A second later, Mercer’s signature heavy knock pounds through the house.
I should have assigned Lake a tail. I mean, if I could keep an eye on every bit of Wish City all the time on my own, I would, but I can’t. It’s just too big. Which is why I have my security team watch it for me. If Lake took Love after I told him not to—and because I didn’t give him a tight enough leash—I’m going to freak.
I swing open the front door to find Mercer next to a half-naked Lake. Lake has a jacket around his waist but it’s doing nothing to hide his pretty little torso. His dark eyes, fierce but afraid, bear into mine.
“I don’t think he took any Love,” says Mercer.
“Whatever that means,” says Lake and crosses his arms.
I study his eyes, but they’re steadfast, not shifting like he’s lying or lost like he’s been high recently. “It’s the pink drug I told you about. Now, get in here. Both of you.” I step aside to let them in.
Lake looks me over as he passes. “Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”
I narrow my eyes. “Just got here. Haven’t taken them off yet.” I stuff them into my pocket before closing the door. Then I have Lake and Mercer sit down in the dining room.
I take the seat across from Lake. “So why were you naked?” Speaking of, that nakedness is distracting. I put Lake in a shirt.
He growls. “I’m sick and tired of you doing stuff to me without asking!”
Wow. When’s the last time anyone has spoken to me like that? I show him my teeth. “You want to be naked?” I strip him of the shirt and the jacket still around his waist.
Anger twists his features into a tiny demon’s, and Mercer laughs.
“That was my jacket, actually,” says Mercer.
I make it appear in Mercer’s lap. “Sorry. And you can send me a report about when and where you found Lake. Seems like he needs to calm down before I talk to him, and I don’t want to waste your time.”
“Alright.” Mercer heads for the door.
“Thanks for bringing him,” I call.
Once Lake and I are alone, I raise my brows at him. “You want clothes or what?”
“Yes,” he grits out.
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.” He gestures toward my chest. “Just put me in what you’re wearing.”
I decide not to make some shit joke about us sharing clothes or me taking mine off. I put him in the same tracksuit but gray. “Good?”
“Fine.” He seems to have calmed from his little outburst as his eyes are back to stormy but scared. If I thought he wouldn’t freak out on me, I’d take away his fear.
“Tell me what happened tonight. Were you really at Club Neon?”
“Yes. I was with you. Another you. And he has—”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand. Has my subconscious finally gone too fucking far? “There’s a replica of me at Club Neon?”
Lake nods. “And he has all the same powers, and I don’t think it’s a good thing. He’s temperamental.”
It’s as if the words hit my brain in slow motion. A replica of me? Annoying, but not outside the realm of possibility, I guess. Except replicas are always watered-down versions. They don’t have powers.
“What do you mean the same powers?”
“He can create things out of nothing. I wouldn’t agree to collar him and be his fucking Dom, so he sent me to an alley without my clothes or phone or anything. If your guy hadn’t found me, I don’t know what I would have done.”
My temples throb. “Did you say Dom?”
Lake flicks up a cautious gaze. “Yeah. We...yeah. He made some collars and tried to make me pick one. I told him no.”
I rub my temples and take some big, deep breaths. Two of me, he says. And not only is the copy walking around with my powers, he’s also trying to get people to collar him. My stomach roils; I might actually throw up. Lake saw me as a submissive.
“Were you with him last night when I called you?” I ask.
“Yes.” Lake’s eyes go gooey with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t ask me that.” A blush creeps over my skin, but I turn it off. I hope I was fast enough for Lake not to notice, but he’s watching me so closely. What would he think if I told him about his replica? How I let him tear me open with his cock?
“Wish...”
Lake and I lock eyes, and the throbbing in my temples metastasizes to between my legs. I need to find this other Wish and make him disappear, but I need to know what they did first. I need to know how Lake saw me and what I have to make him forget. Not that I’ll try to mess with his memories—that’s too dangerous, and I’ve never tried it—but I have to smooth this over somehow.
“Did you fuck him?” I ask.
“Yes,” says Lake.
“Did you like it?” It’s not a question I need to ask, but I… I want to know.
Lake’s Adam’s apple rolls in a slow swallow. “Yes, I did. But neither one of you likes to give up control.” No fear squints at me from Lake’s eyes now. “He wanted me to take him, but he wouldn’t give in. I had to hurt him first.”
My arousal is like a flood. I’ve never hung on anyone’s words like this, and I don’t tamp down my cock as it grows in the tracksuit, but only because Lake can’t see it under the table.
Universe, I’m a mess. I’m being a huge mess in front of Lake, and I can’t stop. “I’m not like him,” I whisper.
Lake’s gaze goes smug and skeptical, and I can feel him knowing it’s a lie. It’s taking a lot more energy than it should to keep the blush from my skin. If I could rid of the humiliation wreaking havoc in my gut, I would.
“In BDSM terms, I’m a switch,” I say. “But I lean towards dominant.”
“Okay.”
I feel like he doesn’t believe me.
“Did you make the other you?” he asks. “Did you feel like you needed to do that to get my attention or something?”
“No! I didn’t—I didn’t do it on purpose!” I had to have made my replica, though. Everything in Wish City starts with me, so it had to have been my subconscious. My rebellious, dream-ruining, embarrassing, fucked-up subconscious.
I thought keeping my power in check would be easier. It felt easy when I was making the first square miles of Wish City from Earth. But if I can’t even make the choice not to give my creations powers, what good am I? Anything could happen. Anything could go wrong.
My arousal dissipates under the weight of everything I’m responsible for. “I don’t know how to fix it, Lake.” The dangerous words just come out. I may as well say outright I’ve failed to make the specials’ Heaven I promised everyone. I’m nearly as out of control as when Fiend had me in a coma, and that was my fault, too. My power made Fiend, and my subconscious let him free without my knowledge. I managed to get him under control, but that was different. I could take away his emotional pain with my power. I can’t do that with mine.
“Hey.” Lake’s soft voice guides me back to the present. “Can’t you use your power to get rid of him?”
“The other me? Sure.” I bang my forehead on the table and laugh. “He could come back, though. Stuff comes back all the time when I get rid of it. Like Love. I’d really prefer to have every syringe crushed and every Love house decimated, but they always come back.” I hit my fist on the table.
“Do you think the other you is responsible?”
I sl
owly lift my head and find Lake’s eyes searching mine. It’s not a crazy idea. But that would mean the other me has been here for a long time, since before I got here and Fiend was running things. Months.
I don’t notice I’m breathing too hard until my lips start tingling, and I groan. I’ve got a headache now, and I try to search Wish City for my replica, but everything’s cloudy. My head’s too tired.
“Wish,” Lake says in that same soft voice. “We’ll figure it out. Everything will be okay. You’re not alone.” He’s trying to be soothing, but he’s making fists, and I can hear his breath going fast like mine. “Can I touch you?” he asks.
“You’re the one who doesn’t like to be touched—not me.”
Lake gets up from the table so quickly his chair scrapes the floor. Fear and anticipation twist inside me, and I get to my feet without thinking.
Lake pulls me into a kiss. His mouth ravaging mine is just what my tingling lips need. His tongue is like silk, and his hands feel like armor clutching my back. I could weather anything with his compact body wrapped around me.
He breaks the kiss and pets my mouth. His pupils are huge.
“What has you turned on?” I ask. Because this situation? It’s not sexy.
“Comforting you.” He takes my head in a fierce hold and stares into my eyes. “The other you has a crush on me. Talked about it like you had one, too. What’s the truth?”
An ache forms in my stomach. When will the humiliation end? “That’s ridiculous. You and I just met.”
Lake smirks and raises a brow.
“Screw you,” I mutter.
“Aw,” says Lake. “He said you like me ’cause I’m ‘pretty and small and hard.’” He puts his lips to my ear, and I shudder violently. “Do you think I’m pretty?” he whispers.
I pulse with need. Lake is so pretty, and he’s touching me, but he’s not close enough.
“What are we doing?” My voice comes out a pitch higher than normal.
Lake massages the back of my neck. “I’m getting in your head. Testing a theory.”
“What theory?”
Lake brushes my nose with his. “That the other you is like Id, and you’re Ego. That was the gist I got from him, anyway.”
“Id and Ego?” I think I might have learned those terms in high school psychology, but I don’t remember what they mean. So much has happened since then. Will Lake think I’m a dumbass because I don’t know?
He traces my cheekbone down to my jaw. “He’s the part of you that only cares about sex and pleasure and need.”
I chuckle. “I care about those.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t give a shit about the consequences.”
Lake’s theory fits with my theory about Love: that it represents what I long for but can’t have. But I’m so tired of psychoanalyzing myself. What does it matter if I can’t fix any of it? “Maybe. Test the theory some more, will you?” Lake seems to have more answers than I do. He’s better at thinking and talking and doing.
“I came inside of him.”
The words dance in my head like rogue pin balls. “What?”
“It was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Way better than with you.”
I don’t have it in me to stop the rage-fueled flush sizzling over my skin. I shove Lake away, and he stumbles into the table.
He rights himself with an antagonistic grin on his face. “You’re so Ego.”
“Whatever. I was just bored when you got here. That’s the only reason I want you so bad. This is a fling. It’ll pass. More specials will come.”
The light goes out of Lake’s expression.
A heavy knock thuds through the house. Is Mercer back?
I leave Lake looking hurt and head for the door. On my way, I check my phone. Mercer usually messages me before he comes over, but he hasn’t sent anything. Yet a look through the peephole confirms it’s him.
I open the door.
Mercer grabs me, yanking me outside and down the front steps.
“Lake!” I scream.
Lake comes running, but he hesitates on the stoop, watching with wide eyes as Mercer takes me away.
I fight the hold, and I throw my power at Mercer, trying to make him weaken or disappear, but it doesn’t work. Then I spot the black star tattoo on his neck, and panic makes me nauseous.
“You didn’t get that for me, did you?” I shout.
He looks at me but doesn’t say anything. He shoves me into the backseat of his car and doesn’t budge despite how hard I kick him.
I look for Lake out the window. He’s standing a few feet away, and he nods at me.
And just what the hell is that supposed to mean? Am I supposed to feel reassured? Because I don’t!
As Mercer drives us away, I try to transport myself back into the house. Doesn’t work. I try to search the city for my replica, for where I might be going, but it’s not even foggy anymore; it’s just not there. I try something simple: changing the color of my tracksuit, and my whole head smarts with a sharp, cutting pain. My upper lip itches, then blood drips onto my thigh, soaking into the still-blue polyester blend.
My power. It’s blocked. It’s like Seraphim’s was when he got to Wish City, and Fiend had me strapped in that hospital bed and paralyzed with drugs.
I wipe at my bleeding nose and drop my head against the plush backseat. “Are you taking me to my replica?”
Mercer doesn’t answer.
“Are you taking me to the wilderness to kill me? Come on, Mercer. Char at least had the decency to lie!”
“We’re going to Club Neon. Wish would never have you killed. He loves you.”
My eyes well up. “My nosebleed says differently!” Universe, how hard would Lake be right now if he could see me like this? He’d give me that gooey look and tell me everything will be fine, but it won’t. I don’t have special powers of intuition, but still, I can feel it. This is going to be bad.
Wish City is finally reaching its breaking point, and I can’t save it.
7
Lake
Standing on Wish’s stoop with adrenaline surging in my veins, I feel like the prince from Sleeping Beauty about to throw myself into the thorns. Part of me likes it. I’m going to save Wish. If I were bigger—if I thought I could take Mercer—I would have saved him already, but I’m not that kind of prince.
I have to go to Club Neon. Me telling Wish about his doppelgänger and then Mercer going rogue right after can’t be a coincidence. So, I have to find the other Wish and get back in his good graces. Maybe I won’t be able to convince him to back off, but I can try.
I head out on foot toward Club Neon. Luckily, some sneakers came with my tracksuit. “If you can hear me, Wish, I’m coming to see you. Save me the trouble and teleport me there, will you?” I’m talking to Wish #2 because the real Wish can’t do anything. He’s all-powerful; if he could have used that power to get away from Mercer, he would have. But Wish #2 either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t want to.
I break out into a jog. By the time I’m standing outside Club Neon, my legs are burning, and I’m sweating in my tracksuit.
I catch my breath with my hands on my knees and squint up at the club’s signage. The “LIVE NUDE MEN” sign looks eerie in the daylight, like a forgotten artifact of an abandoned carnival. Above it, black letters spell out “DUNGEON SUNDAY 24 HOURS.” Judging by the paper on the door with “DUNGEON INSIDE” scribbled in magic marker, today is Sunday.
Is Wish just sex-obsessed? As intellectually stimulating as these last couple days have been, I don’t know if my body can take much more.
I wipe my brow before entering Club Neon.
“Excuse me.” A tall blond drink of water approaches. He’s dressed only in a leather harness with his naked cock dangling between his legs. “Dress code is leather or skin.”
I groan. If only I could have kept Mercer’s leather jacket. Begrudgingly, I strip.
“Shoes, too,” says the doorman.
Once I’ve got everything off
, the doorman lets me further into the club. I hold my clothes and shoes in my arms and gingerly step through the dimly lit space. Music plays faintly in the background, but there isn’t anyone here except me and the doorman. No one is manning the bar. The dance floor houses several pieces of BDSM equipment—a few spanking benches, a St. Andrew’s cross, among others—but they stand shadowed and unused.
A sick feeling blooms in my stomach as I head toward the staircase I ascended last time to get to the Crimson Room. As before, someone’s manning the door—this time, a girl with a purple pixie haircut.
She grabs my wrist. “Sorry. VIPs only.”
Fuck. I don’t have the star tattoo anymore. “I need to see Wish.”
“VIPs only,” she repeats.
“Well maybe if you tell him I’m sorry—”
“Look.” The girl stands and gets in my face. Funny, she isn’t wearing leather, but she’s been allowed clothes: jeans and a ripped-up T-shirt. “I know who you are, and Wish doesn’t want to see you. Not either one of him. He hurts himself enough. He doesn’t need some emotional sadist fucking his shit up as well.”
The blunt words sting. How does this girl know so much about me and Wish? She must be his friend.
“I’m trying to stop him from hurting himself,” I say.
“Why? So you can make him cry in good conscience?”
“Well... Yes.”
The girl throws up her hands. “Unbelievable.”
I hug my shoes and bunched-up tracksuit more tightly. “Can you please just tell him I’m sorry about how I reacted to the collars? And that I want to see him? I want to give him what he wants. Needs,” I add.
The girl narrows her eyes. “You have nerve. I’ll give you that.” She gets out her phone and types something on it. A few moments later, she waves me into the Crimson Room. “Don’t fuck up.”
I nod to the girl even though I have no idea what I’m getting into.
Wish
Mercer shoves me through the back entrance of Club Neon. Last time I was here, it opened to an indoor smoking area behind the dance floor, but now, it’s a room with dark green walls and three staircases.
