Page 61 of Snatched By the Sandman

I feel like I’m slipping away, blurring at the edges even as I kiss him back with everything as the liquid lightning surges through my body, lighting up the reward center of my brain. My dark dopamine. My anti-depressant.

I unravel. My rib cage tattoo protrudes through my skin. The inked pills tumble off my left arm. The blood gushes from my snapped stitches.

He heals. All the flesh I clawed fuses, restoring him to his god self. So unlawfully beautiful with those dark waves falling down the sides of my face, his full lips on mine. He’s an unholy beauty, a dark, sculpted god.

In one moment, he deadpans, gazing down at me like I’m the center of his universe—of all the universes. Like I’m playing some twisted rehab role with the medication of sex magic.

I should be in an asylum. Knowing how helpful it is for countless others, I should be in therapy. But so many times, this rage would come out during my occasional therapy sessions. I stopped taking the meds. They silence the voices. And I like my demons too much.

Nyxion’s black diamond eyes liquefy into depthless dark pools that suck me into their undertow. Oh, god…he is funereal emotion—as somber as a graveyard. Some deep, tortured place inside him he shows no one, probably doesn’t acknowledge it himself.

It’s like looking through a black mirror—where I find the faintest silhouette of my darker self. I tilt my head. The silhouette tilts theirs.

In one second, Nyxion is ripped away from me. The sound of growls and broken bones fills my ears as Phantasos takes my hand and helps me to a stand. The ends of my silk gown fall to the floor behind me, but they are otherwise unscathed from my happy littleincidentwith the God of Nightmares.

“Come now, Zenya darling.” Phantasos strokes the center of my back, comforting me as Morpheus and Nyxion trade blows, fracturing parts of the throne room. “They’ll be at it for a while. Welcome to our fucked up family.”

I glance back at the gods as they take out a whole chunk of wall and fall through grit and stone into the adjacent hall. “Um, should I…?”

Phantasos shakes his head and directs me back to the table. “Best to let them get it out of their system. And I think you like them fighting over you, don’t you?” He winks and nudges my arm with his elbow. I take a moment to admire his pinstriped suit with a rather dapper newsies-style cap.

I shrug. “Guilty.” I shake my head with an airy laugh as I hear their bodies thunder through Morpheus’s castle. The magical walls are already piecing themselves back together.

Hecate has remained at the table, her claws steepled as she dons a feline smile. Clearly, she’s enjoyed the show.

“Do sit down, Zenya. Let the boys play while we enjoy dessert.” Her eyes roam along my figure, a hint of how I’m synonymous with the last word.

A small sigh eases from my throat as I consider how Nyxion’s cum is still dripping down my legs. I could use a little break.

Hecate senses it and nods graciously. She respects. Morpheus seduces. Nyxion steals. And I’m not certain what I believe about the three—only what I feel. And every iota of my spirit wants all three. I can’t appreciate Morpheus’s light-hearted nature without Nyxion’s demented darkness.

Phantasos is the little slice of heaven in this world. Like the touchstone who pops in to my dynamic with each of the three.

“After all…” Hecate curls her clawed fingers in the air. “Who needs men when we have perfectly good company here?”

“Ouch,” Phantasos mutters while pulling my chair out for me to sit before scooting it in. “Way to make a guy feel special.”

“Pish, Phantasos, you are always welcome as the exception.”

“Consolation prize.” He shrugs and sits next to me.

Another crash, and I flinch but manage to take a deep breath in an odd mix of invigorated and worn from the previousencounter. I focus on dream weaving dessert. The most decadent because I deserve it after all that.

Dark chocolate lava cakes, crème brûlée, tiramisu, red velvet cupcakes. I weave gold platters of Black Forest gateau, passion fruit panna cotta, and a colorful macaron tower in the center of the table. Gold-dusted truffles speckle the table like luxurious stars. I help myself to a lemon curd and raspberry compote soufflé on my plate.

“Gods, I am so adopting you,” Phantasos gushes, bringing a smile to my lips as he stuffs truffles in his mouth.

Hecate raises a goblet and leans back on her throne, tapping the side with her other hand. “To dramatic reveals and deadly truths. And the theatrics of gods and men where women will always rise higher. Cheers, my dear.”

Phantasos shrugs. “I’ll drink to that.”

I take a sip of wine before returning to my soufflé. But my thoughts drift back to that moment with Nyxion, the silhouette in his eyes. And the spine-chilling sensation of somethinginsideme.

“Penny for your thoughts, my dream weaver?”

I look up at Hecate, purse my lips, then part my lips to wonder, “Do you believe everyone has something inside them?”

“Hmm…” She sets her goblet down and drums her claws on the table. “Like an inner goddess?”

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