18. The Dream
THE DREAM
Reign didn't go straight to Petersburg.
He told himself he would. Told himself he'd drive straight there, handle Arissa Sterling, secure the serum, and get back to Cairo before sunrise. That was the plan. That was what his family needed.
But instead, he found himself pulling into the driveway of his house.
The house he shared with Soreya.
The lights were off. Her Honda was parked in the driveway, which meant she was home. Probably asleep. She'd been exhausted lately—working long shifts at the clinic, dealing with his disappearances, dealing with the emotional weight of their relationship falling apart.
Reign sat in the Hellcat for a moment, engine idling, staring at the dark windows.
He should leave.
He should go handle business.
But he couldn't.
Not yet.
He killed the engine and climbed out, locking the car behind him. The November air was cold, biting, but he barely felt it. His senses were already sharpening, his body reacting to the proximity of home. Of her.
He unlocked the front door quietly and stepped inside.
The house was dark and silent. The blackout curtains were drawn in every room—his doing, not hers. She'd complained about them at first, said they made the house feel like a cave. But eventually she'd stopped asking why he needed them.
Reign moved through the living room, past the kitchen, down the hallway toward the bedroom. The door was cracked open. He pushed it wider, stepping inside.
Soreya was asleep.
She was curled up on her side of the bed, one hand tucked under the pillow, her hair spilling across the sheets. She was wearing one of his old T-shirts—oversized, soft, the fabric clinging to her curves. The blanket was pulled up to her waist, leaving her legs bare.
She looked peaceful.
Beautiful.
Vulnerable.
Reign stood in the doorway for a long moment, just watching her breathe.
And then the scent hit him.
It was faint at first—barely noticeable beneath the smell of her lotion, her shampoo, the laundry detergent she used on the sheets. But it was there. Unmistakable.
She was on her cycle.
Reign's pupils dilated immediately. His breathing changed. The hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface all night roared to life, sharp and insistent and demanding.
He could smell it—the blood, the hormones, the way her body changed during this time. It was intoxicating. It made his mouth water. Made his hands shake.
This was why he kept coming back to her.
Not just because he loved her.
But because she was his in a way no one else could be.
Reign closed the bedroom door behind him, locking it quietly. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his jacket, and moved toward the bed. Soreya didn't stir. She was deep asleep, her breathing slow and even.
He should leave her alone.
He should go handle business.
But he couldn't.
Not when she was like this.
Not when the hunger was clawing at him like this.
Reign climbed onto the bed carefully, moving slowly so he wouldn't wake her. The mattress dipped under his weight, but Soreya didn't move. He positioned himself at the foot of the bed, his hands sliding up her bare legs, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his palms.
She stirred slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips, but she didn't wake.
Reign's hands moved higher, pushing the oversized T-shirt up slowly, exposing more of her thighs, her hips, the curve of her waist. She was wearing underwear—simple cotton, nothing fancy—but he could already see the faint evidence of her cycle.
His breathing quickened.
His fangs descended slightly, aching.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pulled it down carefully, sliding it off her legs and tossing it aside. Soreya shifted again, her legs parting slightly in her sleep, and Reign's control nearly shattered.
Fuck.
He could see her now—fully exposed, vulnerable, completely unaware of what he was about to do.
This was wrong.
He knew it was wrong.
But he couldn't stop.
Reign positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs gently, spreading them wider. The scent was overwhelming now—rich, metallic, intoxicating. His mouth watered. His body was reacting on pure instinct, the vampire in him taking over.
He leaned forward, his breath warm against her skin.
And then his mouth found her center.
The first taste hit his tongue, and the world exploded.
God.
The blood was rich and warm, laced with something primal that made his brain go quiet and his instincts take over.
But it wasn't just the blood—it was her.
The taste of her arousal mixed with the menstrual blood, the way her body responded even in sleep, the soft sounds she made as his tongue moved against her.
This was the high.
This was the addiction.
This was why he couldn't stay away.
Reign's tongue moved deliberately, tasting her, drinking from her, pleasuring her all at once. He could feel the power flooding through him—strength, clarity, control. The chaos in his mind quieted. The guilt faded. The fear disappeared.
Soreya's breathing changed.
It became deeper, more ragged, her body responding to the sensations even though she was still asleep. Her hips shifted slightly, pressing closer to his mouth, and Reign groaned against her skin.
She was so beautiful like this.
So open.
So his.
His tongue circled her clit slowly, deliberately, before dipping lower to taste more of the blood. The combination of sensations—the feeding, the pleasure he was giving her, the way her thighs trembled against his shoulders—it was everything.
Soreya let out a soft moan, her hand moving in her sleep to tangle in his hair.
She was waking up.
Not fully—not yet—but her body was responding, her mind caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness.
"Reign..." she whispered, her voice thick and confused.
He didn't stop.
His mouth worked her expertly, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, tasting her, drinking from her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. He could feel her body tightening, could hear her breathing becoming more erratic.
"Oh god..." Soreya's voice was barely audible, her hips moving against his mouth now, chasing the pleasure even though she wasn't fully awake.
Reign's hands gripped her thighs tighter, holding her in place as he brought her higher. The blood was still flowing, still feeding him, still giving him that rush of power and clarity that made everything else fade away.
This was what he needed.
This was what kept him from killing.
This was why he loved her.
Soreya's whole body tensed, her back arching slightly off the bed. "Reign, I—oh fuck?—"
She came quietly, her orgasm rolling through her in waves, her thighs trembling against his shoulders. Reign kept going, riding it out with her, tasting her pleasure mixed with the blood, feeling the high coursing through his veins.
When she finally went still, her breathing ragged and uneven, Reign pulled back slowly.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.
Soreya's eyes fluttered open, confused and disoriented. She looked down at him, her expression hazy, like she wasn't sure if she was awake or still dreaming.
"Reign?" Her voice was soft, uncertain. "What... was that real?"
Reign climbed up the bed, pulling the blanket over her gently. He kissed her forehead, his touch tender despite the predatory hunger still simmering beneath his skin.
"Nah, baby," he whispered against her hair. "You was dreaming. Go back to sleep."
Soreya's eyes were already closing again, her body relaxed and satisfied, her mind too foggy to question it. "Felt so real..."
"I know," Reign said softly. "But it was just a dream."
She let out a soft sigh, her body sinking deeper into the mattress. Within seconds, she was asleep again, her breathing slow and even.
Reign sat there for a moment, watching her.
His hands were still shaking.
His mouth still tasted like her.
The high was coursing through him—that familiar rush of power and clarity that made everything else fade away.
But underneath it all, there was guilt.
Because he'd just fed on her without her knowing.
Because he'd violated her trust in the most intimate way possible.
Because he loved her, and he was dangerous to her, and he couldn't stop himself.
Reign stood up slowly, pulling his jacket back on. He grabbed his keys from the nightstand and looked back at Soreya one last time.
She looked peaceful.
Safe.
Like she didn't know she was sleeping next to a monster.
Reign walked out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
He had business to handle.
Arissa Sterling was waiting.
And by the time the sun came up, everything would be different.
But for now, he carried the taste of Soreya with him—the high, the guilt, the love, the hunger.
All of it.
Always.