Chapter 6 Kallum
KALLUM
After I gave him damn near the best orgasm of his life without even touching his cock or ass, he had the audacity to consider texting his ex—Sam. I should stick my claws into his stomach and pull all of his entrails out, smile as he frantically realizes that his insides are now outside.
But murdering his ex might cause a strain in Christian’s and my budding relationship. And unfortunately, killing his ex might make him less likely to submit to all I have planned for us.
Bummer.
Looking down at his sleeping form, I do what any other sane boyfriend would do, and I reach into his dream. He can’t escape me here. I can manipulate just about every part of his mind when I am inside of him. It’s fascinating how the human mind works. So pliable. So fragile.
When I call him a little nightmare, I mean it.
His presence is the literal bane of my soul—or the lack thereof.
He moved into this apartment six months ago and I willingly followed him here, hiding under his bed night after night.
For whatever damned reason, I can’t seem to exercise him out of my life.
He’s devastatingly beautiful, smart, and kind.
All the things I am not. I am a demon, a monster of the night.
The one who will revel in your misery for the rest of your days.
So I call him my Little Nightmare to show him and myself that sometimes we long for our worst fears, even if we know they will eventually swallow us whole.
Slinking further into his unconscious, I find myself back in the woods we just left.
Well that’s interesting. Clearly my Little Nightmare enjoyed what happened back there if he’s already dreaming about it.
Carefully picking my way over rocks and uneven terrain, I flick my forked tongue from my mouth, scenting the air for the stench of my prey.
A noise off to my left pricks my ear and I silently saunter that direction, my shadows slithering along the ground around me. Movement catches my eye up ahead between two trees. Blonde hair and pale flesh dart through the woods.
My Little Nightmare.
On nimble demon feet I chase after him. He can run from me all he wants, but I will always find him. He is mine. He comes to a jerked halt next to a scraggly looking pine. The muscles of his shoulders ride up as he senses me.
“Hello again, my Little Nightmare,” I coo as I approach his frozen form.
He spins, his body turning to face me. His eyes widen in horror as he takes in my true demon form.
I didn’t bother to glamour myself here, no need to hide my true monster when in a nightmare.
His breathing becomes erratic as he takes me in.
The scent of his fear permeates the air, making my cock throb with need.
“You’re not real.” Christian panics, stumbling back until his back hits a large tree.
His nails scrape at the bark. He knows this is a dream.
But he needs to know that I am very much real.
I step closer, watching him cower as I brace one of my hands beside his head.
Leaning in, I drink in his scent, awakening every part of me.
I cup his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. My forked tongue reaches out and licks my bottom lip. His Adam's apple bobs in delight. Does he wonder what this tongue can do for him? Wait till he finds out how long I can make it. The delicious thought makes my dick hardened even further.
“Not real?” I chuckle, a growl low in my gut. “Tell me, Little Nightmare. Was my cock not real when you swallowed me down like you were starving?”
“What are you?” he whispers, completely ignoring my question but I see the way his cheeks flush in the most delectable way.
“Think about it, you’re a smart cookie.” I trace a clawed finger along his jaw, watching as his skin turns a pretty shade of pink with the line I dug in.
Christian’s breath is erratic, a shallow stutter that betrays him.
I could name every emotion flickering through those pretty, terrified blue eyes—disbelief, fear, need. Oh, there it is. That shameful little ember of want he tries so hard to ignore.
Pathetic. Beautiful. Mine.
“You can’t be real,” he says again, a little more forcefully, though the tremor in his voice betrays him. “Monsters don’t exist.”
I smile, slow and indulgent. “And yet, here we are, Little Nightmare.”
He flinches when I drag my knuckles along his cheek, a featherlight touch as if savoring something fragile.
The spice of his scent lingers on his breath. It’s soothing in a way it shouldn’t be—I don’t want him soothed. I want him wrecked. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
I hum, pressing closer. “But I am.”
Christian’s fingers flex against the bark, the last desperate act of a trapped creature, but we both know the truth.
He’s not running. He doesn’t want to. He can feel it now, can’t he?
That undeniable force pulling us together, the inevitability of me pressing into every part of his life and every hidden place in his mind.
He’s already mine in ways he refuses to name.
He shudders when I trail my lips along the edge of his jaw, just below his ear.
I smile against his skin. “You figure out what I am?”
He swallows, voice barely above a whisper. “Demon.”
I nip at his earlobe, just enough for him to feel it, to remind him that this body—this temple of flesh and devotion—is something I will take my time ruining.
“Good boy. I’m your demon. The monster under your bed, to be precise.”
Christian jolts, a choked sound slipping past his lips before he bites it down. He hates how his body betrays him. I love it.
“You’re mine, Christian.”
“No.” His breath hitches. “You don’t get to claim me like I’m some—some thing you can own.”
I chuckle. “Oh, but I do.
He stiffens when I take his hand, pressing his palm flat against my chest. I let him feel it—the heat, the hunger, the thing inside me that is only ever awake for him.
“Your heart is…” he trails off, confused.
My lips barely graze his ear. “Beating for you.”
His pulse thrums beneath my fingertips, a drumbeat of delicious, aching conflict. I tighten my grip on his wrist, holding him there.
His voice is hoarse, so desperate for conviction. “You can’t have me.”
I grin, wicked and triumphant. “Oh, Little Nightmare.” I tilt his chin up, eyes burning into his. “I already do.” I crash my mouth down on his. Not soft. Not kind. A claiming kiss.
Christian gasps against my mouth, and I take the opportunity to devour him properly—fingers tangled in his hair, tongue sliding past his lips, fangs grazing that tender bottom lip I want to bite until he’s marked.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
When I finally pull back, his lips are swollen and his chest is heaving.
I press my forehead against his, murmuring against his breath, “Say it.”
He blinks, dazed. “Say what?”
I drag my claws gently down his throat, feeling the shudder that runs through him.
“Say you’re mine.”
I brush my thumb over his bottom lip, swollen from my kiss, admiring the way his pupils are blown wide and the way his lips part like he might beg if I gave him the chance.
“Be a good boy,” I murmur, watching the way his pale lashes flutter, the little shiver that rolls down his spine.
He hates how much that gets to him. But I know.
I know everything. Christian lets out a shuddering breath, and his fingers twitch against my chest like he’s about to push me away—or pull me closer.
I tilt his chin up, drinking in the sight of him.
Wrecked.
Beautiful.
Mine.
“You’re—” He swallows, blinking fast like he’s trying to clear his head, to make sense of what’s happening. “You’re in my head.”
I chuckle, the sound low and dark against his throat. “Oh, Little Nightmare.” I brush my lips against his jaw, just the ghost of a kiss. “I am so much deeper than that.”
He shudders.
Good.
I lean in close, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, “Dream of me.”
He stills.
I step back, watching the way his body sways, lost in something he doesn’t want to name.
“Because I’ll be watching,” I continue, my voice dipping into something softer, more insidious. “Always.”
I let the truth sink in, watching as realization dawns in his heavy-lidded eyes. No escape. No pretending I don’t exist. No one will ever hurt him, shame him, make him feel like there is something wrong with him. Not with me around.
Christian will learn, eventually. He belongs to me. His love, his body, his soul. He will never be afraid again because I will carve fear out of the world itself for him.
His lips part like he wants to say something.
But before he can, the dream shatters as he wakes.