Page 52 of Incubus

“I did.”

His eyes were pits of the vilest malevolence, but I couldn’t look away. My fear locked me in his sights, paralyzing me.

“I’m beginning to think you want to be my slave.” He smoothed his cold hand under my shirt and up my back as I tried to shrink away from him. “Don’t you?” He dug his nails into my skin.

“No!” I struggled to free myself.

“Perhaps I’ll keep you anyway.” He gave another sharp tug on my hair before sinking his teeth into my neck.

“No!” I was caught in his snare. As he licked the blood from the wound on my throat, laughter rolled out of him, malice in every note. His fingers shredded my skin, and I screamed, unable to save myself.

“I’ll bring him!” I fought against his hold. “I’ll bring him.”

“Yes, you will.”

Instantly, I was sitting up in my bed, clutching the sheet that had gotten tangled around me as I slept. Sweat made my pajama top stick to me, and my breaths came fast and shallow. I tried to shake off the fear the dream had caused but found myself staring around the room, examining every shadow as if Ares were there, watching me. Only a dream.

I rose from the bed, rushed to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on my face to calm my nerves. My face was ashen, and my eyes carried a haunted look. I reached over and flipped on the shower before peeling off my pajamas. Before I was able to get into the steamy jets, something in the mirror caught my eye. Turning my head to get a better look, I gasped—bloody claw marks had been etched into my back, and a crimson rivulet flowed from the bite on my neck.

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