Page 3 of Snatched By the Sandman

NYXION

“Lovely” by Billie Eilish - Lauren Babic and Seraphim Cover

“Hypnosis” by Sleep Token

YESTERDAY

She cannot see me, but she can feel me.

That is all I need.

She’s the one.

I knew it the moment I saw her trying to escape Purgatory.

She is a walking daydream-wrapped nightmare.

Untethering the strings of her hospital gown, I strip her to my all-seeing eyes. Her dark purple hair swells around her head like a royal halo. Her bone structure is lovely. Her limbs are strong. Her heart is stronger. Her spirit is strongest.

Her skin is the definition of two-faced theater masks. Love and hate. Light and darkness. Bubbly joy and twisted horror.

Zenya Elise Myre has lived her life between worlds. She is perfect for me. I knew it from the moment I first saw her on the longest night of her life. Soon, I will share with her…

I brush my flesh-less knuckles along her right collarbone, which is clad in iridescent peacock feathers, loving how her decorative skin responds to my touch. While her high breasts lack ink, shield piercings surround each rose-tipped nipple. The left bears a slithering black snake enclosing the hard bud. The right, a Celtic sun.

One touch of my bony fingertip to the left nipple kindles her pheromones, and I smirk internally from the heat stirring inside her fragrant center. I grow harder at the scent. So dark and lovely—like a floral offering to the dead, blood roses resting on burial soil. And a hint of incense, warm and sensual.

I familiarize myself with her tapestry of artwork where the extreme contrasts of her persona merely brush one another at the center of her body. Sharing heat. A never-ending war of emotion—Devil vs. Angel, heaven vs. hell, sin vs. purity.

“Zenya Alice Myre,” I murmur in the sterile air of the hospital room. “You are my vessel. Through me, you will dream. Through you, I will awaken.”

I trace my finger along the circular serpent and the sun before roaming my hand lower. Across her abdomen, spirals of fire and water intertwine, representing her dual natures. Each caress draws out her potential, unlocking the hidden depths of her subconscious.

Zenya stirs slightly, her breathing deepens, as if she’s reacting to my presence on an instinctual level. Her magnetic pull strengthens, even in her unconscious state. A low, possessive growl rumbles in my chest, bred out of my instinctivedesire. More blood surges to my cock, and my balls swell, growing heavy.

I lean closer, my breath whispering over her skin, merging our auras.

Without another word, I remove the tube fed down her throat, nullifying any alarms that would signal the nurses. I’ll be feeding her throat something else quite soon. Blood droplets escape her mouth and drip a thread of a crimson line along one corner of her mouth.

Placing my skeletal hand over her heart, I lower my head to curl my tongue along that corner, claiming the blood, drinking in her essence. My spinal cord locks up, and a deeper growl intensifies in my chest. Her blood is my darkest opiate. An addiction like poison in wine.

Little time passes as I eye her full lips, pink and pouty before I claim them. Parting them with my tongue, I capture her. She tastes of black-infused honey and fiery ginger—like an eclipse.

Her body rises, even in its comatose state.

Freeing myself of my dark robe, I take a deep breath and shift into my god form—save for my skull. For this transformation to take effect, she must receive both of my forms. She will take my blood, bones, and breath.

I undo my belt and fold the leather before whispering it down her form, imagining what her skin would look like beneath its striking heat.

After tossing it aside, I mount her and trail my fingertips along the delicate curvature of her throat. She is soft as gossamer. My cock throbs more at the thought of that tight, little throat strangling me.

Unable to wait longer, I grip her jaw, force her mouth open, and ruthlessly thrust my length into her mouth. Surrounded by the wet heat rouses a carnal need. I plunge harder, deeper, cursing under my breath as her tiny throat grips me like a vice.Unwitting tears stream down her cheeks. And a whimper leaves her mouth.

“Yes, sweet dreamer, you’re taking all of me. Beyond the comprehension of any human, but you love it, don’t you, little killer? Taking all of me. Every godly, damn inch.”

I give her deep, violent thrusts, so once she comes to me, even in her wildest nightmares, she will feel the ruination of her throat like an echo.

A sudden splash of those delicious pheromones perfumes the air, heating the icy blood in my veins and triggering me to fuck her mouth harder. I fist her purple hair, driving myself deeper until a tremor shudders through her body—evidence of her shriveling lungs.

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