Page 11 of Snatched By the Sandman

A cold dread seeps into my bones. Desperation claws at me. Somehow, I must get into Nyxion’s fortress and free this girl from my brother’s grip. I steel myself for another battle, perhaps our most extreme battle. Nyxion has resorted to drastic measures. I won’t hesitate to do the same.

Resolve hardening, I clench my hands into fists. I only hope this Zenya will not become a casualty of our war.

Chapter 5

“You will learn to please me, to entertain me…”

NYXION

“Sugar” by Sleep Token

“Fall for Me” by Sleep Token

Istep into the chamber, my presence snuffing out the flickering candles shedding their eerie light.

Zenya doesn’t move, but her body changes, her senses electrified to my being. The ropes still hold her in place, the noose still tight around her soft and delicate throat. I stiffen at the knowledge that she did not even try to escape her bondage. Frustration mounts. Grinding my jaw, I approach.

She will soon feel the cold grip of my fist choking her, the cut of my teeth biting her, and my claws bleeding her. Once she is penitent from torment and finally ready to please me, I will grant her the release she will beg for.

First, I trace a solitary finger along her spine, thrilling in her shiver and the hairs pricking to life.

“You disappoint me, Zenya.” My voice lowers to a velvet purr, laced with menace. “But your emotions are still a feast worth savoring. And this will give me an opportunity to train you.”

She swallows hard, wiggling her head as much as possible. The noose shifts from the bobbing of her throat. “I don’t know what the hell you want with me.” Her feminine growl is quite adorable.

Her emotions play upon the air in a blend of compliance and resistance that I find quite delicious. “Much, my strange, little dreamer.”

With a flick of my wrist, I transform the ropes into skin wraps, enchanted strips of human skin that now bind her wrists and ankles, spreading her legs all the wider. Their texture is soft and unsettling, tightening and releasing with her every movement.

Blindfold temporarily removed, I revel in her eyes widening at her realization of the fleshy bindings imprisoning her. Such a mesmerizing color, a shade of deep aquamarine, birthed right from the womb of the sea.

All her limbs lock up. Yes, the flavor profile of her emotions is satisfactory. If I cannot have her dreams, then I will settle for her fear and horror. The adrenaline in her blood. The endorphins of her body.

Another gesture from my hand locks a rib cage bodice across her front that presses against and plumps her pretty breasts while giving me access to her rosy nipples. As I curl my breath across the side of her face, the buds harden. How delightful.

Now I fasten a bone collar with small, thin, sharp needles around her lovely throat. They prick her skin but do not bleed. “Like the noose, they will tighten should you move too much.”

Angry tears heat her eyes, and I appreciate her rebellion. “Why are you doing this?”

“You belong to me now,” I assure her and scrape one claw along the graceful curvature of her spine where the spinal cord tattoo sweeps down to her heart-shaped ass, leading to a raven on one cheek and a dove on the other. “You will learn to please me, to entertain me. I am a selfish beast. I care not for morality, nor mercy. I have grown quite bored of the same screams of fear and wails of sorrow. It’s all so dull.”

“Woe is you,” she spits out, careful not to jerk or swing. “My heart truly bleeds for you.”

Chuffing a laugh, I manifest one another significant object and grin at how she shivers. “Your spirit is commendable. And while I appreciate your sympathy, for that audacious comment, I will say I’m truly looking forward to testing your potential.”

Slowly, I secure the deer mask across her face, hundreds of tiny bone needles brushing her flesh without breaking it. “Do you know how tiresome it is to hear the same cries every night?” I engage in casual conversation.

“And I have the honor of fixing that for you by playing along with your game of extreme acupuncture?” She rolls her eyes.

“Naturally. Let’s see if you can entertain me without cutting your skin. But…” I lift a wagging finger of warning, “…every drop of blood you spill will add another hour to this waking nightmare. Unless you prove worthy of ending it by your own will.”

Through the mask, her eyes burn against me. “Look, I’m honored to serve as your voodoo doll, really, but I’ll have to charge you an hourly rate to be a personal pincushion.”

I chuckle darkly, savoring her sarcasm, her twisted mind that laughs in the face of nightmares.

Inspired by her ink, I twist my lips into a smirk and manifest a spinal cord of my own—one with the same needles that prick the skin of her spine.

“As far as nightmares go, I’ll give you points for morbidity, albeit a little predictable.” Her bravado doesn’t waver as she unleashes more impishness.

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