Page 26 of Snatched By the Sandman

“If you don’t dream for us soon, Zenya,”—Nyxion whispers, his voice a chilling echo—“I will spread you right across this table, and you will be the main course to my complete satisfaction while your poor pussy is left starving for the rest of the night.”

“I’d settle for watching,” Phantasos says while stroking his dark stubble that only accentuates his sweeping eyeliner. “Not really my thing.”

I widen my eyes, knowing Nyxion would fulfill that promise. “Well, then…” I smile, never daring to pinch myself because I’m not sure if I ever want to wake up. “If I can make my wildest dreams come true…”

One eye blink. One sweet thought. That’s all it takes to create a table overflowing with giant candy canes, lollipops the size of dinner plates, and chocolate rivers for dipping fruits and marshmallows. That is Phantasos’s section of the table.

Before me and Nyxion are desserts inspired by his realm. Skull-themed cakes, bone-shaped cookies, and death-by-chocolate cake oozing with blood-like berry preserves.

In the center of the table, I’ve imagined an eclectic spread of whimsical desserts like “Eat Me” petit fours that change flavors when eaten, Mad Hatter-striped macarons, and teacups filled with magical potions that transform as they’re consumed.

On my right, I’ve woven rainbow-colored desserts, unicorn-shaped cakes with edible gold horns, and cotton candy clouds that melt in your mouth.

“Fuck!” Phantasos dives for one of the lollipops, his gold gown nearly ending up in the chocolate river. “Can we adopt her?”

“She’s mine,” Nyxion snarls and lowers his fingers to wiggle the chastity cage. I wince just before he brings a bone-shaped cookie to my mouth. Yes, feeding me seems to be one of his kinks.

I filled our goblets with chocolate-flavored wine.

I part my lips to accept, imagining the taste like shortbread, sweet and rich and buttery. It lives up to my imagination.

“It tastes like a real rainbow!” gushes Phantasos as he licks the lollipop, his lashes lowering and batting to flirt with me. I press my crumb-covered lips into a daring smile, daring because of Nyxion.

“I will propose a toast,” Morpheus announces with mischief in his voice as he raises his goblet. “To Zenya Alice Myre who turns nightmares into her playground, reigns over the shadows, and makes beauty from darkness for us.”

“Forme,” Nyxion deepens his voice in a warning while digging his bony hands into my sides. “You’ve had the fucking spotlight and the world at your sandy fingertips for too long, Morpheus. It’s my gods-damned turn.”

Morpheus smirks. “Ah, dear Nyx, always brooding in the shadows. You know they remember you because you’re so good at unleashing their fears. Such a charming talent.”

Nyxion grits his teeth. “Yes, because nightmares are such delightful companions. But what do they remember you for, Morpheus? Your feathered dreams and bedtime stories?”

Morpheus casually sips his wine while I appraise them, discerning the hidden layers in their exchange. “While you can take solace in your nightmares leaving an indelible mark, they remember me for the dreams that linger, the ones that make them question reality. Not everyone can handle my feathers, brother. Sometimes, they need a bit of softness to balance out all that bone.”

I meet Phantasos’s gaze, and he rolls his eyes and sucks at the tip of his candy cane, sending me a flirtatious bob of his brows. Not a serious flirtation, that much I know. But I can’t help but giggle, though Nyxion tugs my hips back, giving me some massive evidence of his need to relieve tension.

Nyxion tightens his wings and leans closer, scraping his teeth across the side of my neck. “Softness won’t save them from the nightmares I bring.”

Morpheus raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps not, but it might give them something to hold onto when they wake up screaming.”

“You think you’re so clever, Morpheus.”

Morpheus smiles knowingly…at me. “I don’t think, dear brother. Iknow. Now, shall we continue this dance of shadows, or are you finally ready to admit that feathers have their place in the dark as much as chilled bones?”

“Feathers, bones, come on, boys…” Phantasos interjects, hands stretched to the side, palms open as he leans back in his seat. “Can’t we just agree that nightmares are like a dark fashion show? It’s all about how you strut your stuff.”

“Ahh, I get it,” I say softly, circling a finger between them. They all turn to me. “You—” I turn to gesture to Nyxion with a shy smile—“you’re the oldest, the one who got saddled with allthe responsibility for the stuff that goes bump in the night. You, Phantasos, are the fun one?—”

“Don’t forget fabulous!”

I grin and wave my hand in an apology. “Of course. You randomly turn into objects because you like being the trickster who plays jokes and creates drama to break up the monotonous routine or distract your brothers. And Morpheus…”

Heat floods my cheeks as more of his shadows grow like extensions, curling toward me while Nyxion scatters bone dust to attack them.

“Morpheus is the prodigy. The youngest but the most charismatic, most talented?—”

“Most charming,” he adds and sweeps his fingers through his perfect, angelic curls.

“Most annoying,” Nyxion mutters.

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