The Nightmare (The Mist Book 2)

That pathetic vessel that served me as a human body once again showed its weaknesses and inconveniences. Between a full bladder, the need to pause at regular intervals to feed, and now the fatigue that demanded I turn in for the night, there was always something. Granted, the release of peeing was quite agreeable, and some of the food served to us was very tasty. Too bad I could only intake a limited amount of it. Those videos proving what a formidable killing machine this deceptively feeble body could become once shielded by ethereal energy had been thrilling. If not for them, I would have grown quite disheartened by my woman’s obsession with protecting a bunch of strangers. Were their roles reversed, those fuckers probably wouldn’t lift a finger to reciprocate.

To my annoyance, Naima escorted me back to my birth room rather than to her personal quarters. I intended to be with her in a far more intimate fashion tonight anyway. She knew something hot and passionate would happen between us the moment we lay in bed. Her avoidance was silly. But I played along and followed.

I hated how much she had closed herself off to me following my reaction to those videos and my request to feed on those to be executed. I sensed no deception in her when she said she understood why I liked the things I did. But similarly, I could sense her inner struggle with coming to terms with it. The way she went from lusting after me to fighting her fear of me was all but giving me a whiplash. Humans were too complicated. Things didn”t have to be so convoluted with vague concepts of morals, compassion, and laws. The only law that really mattered was that of the strongest, of the fittest, and of the fiercest.

Naima waved me into the bathroom. I gave her a teasing nod and entered. She followed in and showed me another obnoxiously annoying hygiene step she had omitted earlier: dental care. I rolled my eyes so hard I could see the back of my head. My woman burst out laughing and didn”t stop the whole time I brushed my teeth. The damn paste kept foaming and dripping all over my jaw, the brush, and even my hand. She then had the audacity of asking me to brush my tongue, which had me gagging to the point I thought I would regurgitate my evening meal.