Page 8 of Wicked Dreams

“Let’s hope so. It would be most unfortunate if you failed me.”

I didn’t say anything else. We were excused, and I escorted Olivia in silence through the palace. The moment we were far enough away from the throne room and the hall was empty, she let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m so glad to be rid of that overbearing prick,” she spat out, her vehemence taking me by surprise.

“What?”

“He’s an asshole,” she continued, pulling away from my arm. “I’d kill him if I could.”

“Do not speak ill of your king—” I warned sternly, but she cut me off with a growl.

“He is not my king. He can be yours, but he will never be mine. He’s a weak piece of shit who preys on the innocent and those in need. He will never have my respect. Ever.” She stopped in the hallway and glared at me, her green eyes so filled with passion it left me breathless. If possible, she looked even more beautiful. I shook the thought away. I wasn’t allowed to have them. I heard what the devil said loud and clear. He’d have my ass if I screwed this up.

“I take it you’re not from around here,” I replied, my eyes raking over her. I was sure if she was, I’d have known about it. It wasn’t often I let a beautiful creature slip beneath my radar.

“Definitely not,” she snorted. “My baby sister was sick and dying. I made a deal with the devil to save her life.”

“And he got your soul and brought you here,” I finished, knowing the story all too well. We demons tended to be selfish in that respect. It wasn’t the first time a mortal had given her soul away to save someone she loved. And it wouldn’t be the last. “Was it worth it?”

“What?” She seemed surprised by the question.

“Was her life worth more than yours?” I pressed. I watched as her fierce, beautiful features softened. “Do you regret it?”

“She was young. She hadn’t even had a chance to live. She deserved all the happiness in the world. I don’t regret it,” her voice shook, her green eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’d do it again.” She jutted her chin out, her jaw quivering with her restraint.

“Then why cry over it?” I asked, uncomfortable with her tears. I was not an emotional sort. It just didn’t hold well with demon nature. If we had emotions, we’d be angels. But there was something stirring within me. I wanted to comfort this poor stolen angel. I wanted to make it better. I shook those feelings off and stomped them into the ground. No fucking way was I going to get caught up in that mess.

“I’m not.” She quickly righted herself, surprising me. I’d expected more tears. She was definitely tough. “Take me to get these gowns. We both know I don’t need to be on the devil’s shit list.”

“That’s the spirit.” I gave her a tight smile and guided her down the hall, my heart lurching in my chest at her nearness. I’d known her for only a moment and already she was having an effect on me, one I knew might cost me everything if I let it.

I pulled myself out of the memory, feeling the butterflies flapping madly in my guts. I hadn’t felt them in centuries. Not sinceher. I’d been cursed for loving her. Sentenced to life as an incubus—a demon who preyed on women, fucking their souls out of their bodies and delivering them to Hell. It was the way I sustained myself. A punishment for doingexactlywhat I was told not to do. I wasn’t allowed to walk in the mortal world. I only had the dreams of others.

The devil had tossed my beautiful girl aside, wasting her soul and making me believe I’d never see her again. But I’d found her. And I’d be damned if I was going to let her go.

Donovan

Iflung myself backward and forced my eyes to close. I was tired, a side effect of not taking enough souls. But every time I tried to focus and find my way into the dreamscape, all I could picture was flaming-red hair fanned out across my pillow; plump, crimson lips as they kissed their way up my chest; soft, ivory skin; and the smell of jasmine despite the smoky scent of Hell.

With a heavy sigh, I chastised myself. I needed to see her, be with her. I wanted her in my arms and in my bed. She’d cast a spell on me from the first time I laid eyes on her, and two hundred years hadn’t changed that.

I forced myself to clear my head. I pushed away all thoughts until I began floating away. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in my apartment, but in the void with the dreamscape before me. The dreamscape was how I found my way into the dreams of women. It was nothing but a dark abyss with smoke rolling up from the black, charred grass beneath my feet. Dreams were projected before me, like a never-ending movie reel. Like a kid in a candy store, I could pick and choose which dreams I wanted to visit. I did, however, have a preference.

Souls who craved more out of life called out to me. I preferred to take the ones whose life was missing something—love, attention, compassion. Souls filled with desperation called out to me like a beacon, and Ialwaysanswered those calls. Their sadness and despair rang out to me. I figured I wouldn’t feel so guilty if I just took the ones who were already lacking meaning in their lives. However, I couldn’ttaketheir souls, they had to give them to me by willingly submitting to their innermost desires — meaning I had to gain their trust.

Some souls were easy and gave up the first night, thinking it was nothing more than a dream—a way to fulfill what they weren’t getting during waking hours. But others, it was like their subconscious weren’t as trusting. Deep down, theyknewsomething was off. They were the ones who took a lot more time and effort, but their souls were always stronger and held more power. Those were my favorite. It meant I could survive just a little longer before having to feed on the next soul.

Not that I was overly concerned about it, but I knew I had to space my takes out. I couldn’t just focus on women who lived in a small town. It would become suspicious if too many young women just died peacefully in their sleep with no known causes. I tended to space the women hundreds of miles apart, in different parts of the world even. Tried to select souls whose demises could be attributed to drug addictions, depression, overdoses, heart ailments. But even if suspicion was ever drawn, I didn’t give a shit. I mean, really, what was anyone going to do about it? Not like they could punish me. I was already doing that by taking them. And I was a demon. Good luck trying to catch me.

I skimmed the dreams before choosing Meredith Banks. I hadn’t seen Meredith in months, I’d all but given up on her because she wouldn’t invite me into her bed and give me what I wanted. But tonight,somethingtold me she needed me. I walked forward, stepping through the projection, into her dream.

There were two kinds of dreams. One: the kind created by the subconscious. That kind was less lifelike. They contained very few details, with the only things in focus being things the dreamer directly noticed. Like with Tessa's dream. And two: memories. Those dreams were like reliving events from the past. They were always very detailed and lucid.

Meredith’s dream was a memory. She was standing with a man in a darkened corner of a backyard at some fancy party. I stood between the shrubs, listening into their conversation.

“I’m sorry, Meredith, but it’s over. I can’t do this any longer,” he told her.

“And you picktonightof all nights to tell me?” she replied, motioning toward the party. I looked toward the lavish property and noticed everyone dressed in their best.

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