Page 4 of Obsession

Later that evening, I set up my supplies outside on the patio. Casting a circle, I light my candle and chant:

I send forth this dream to Damion Blackmon this night of sleep.

And in his memory he shall keep.

By powers of fire, earth, water, and air.

He’ll dream this dream and wake happy without a care.

Picturing the dream I want him to experience in my mind, I visualize it like I’m watching a movie unfold before my eyes, and then I release it to the wind.

The next morning, light pours into my bedroom window, and the delicious scent of Damion envelops me. “So I had an interesting dream last night,” he whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms around me and nudging my ass with his hard cock. He’s wearing nothing but boxers, and I snuggle in closer to feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Oh, really?” I say in a throaty voice. The dream was of us in the Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone enjoying a cocktail and then taking it upstairs to our room and enjoying the king-size bed.

“If you want me to take you on a romantic weekend to New Orleans, all you have to do is say so,” he whispers, playfully biting my earlobe.

“How did you know it was me?” I manage. While it’s exciting to hear my first attempt at dream casting was a success, it’s difficult to focus with him turning on the incubus charm.

A contract appears and I grab it, sitting up to take a look. He’s agreed to take me to New Orleans, but he’s added an extra provision.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” I say with heated cheeks.

“Wasn’t it?” he asks innocently.

My hands must be possessed because I don’t recall moving them over to Damion’s sculpted chest. He’s perfectly proportioned—muscular without looking like he lives in the gym. But of course he couldn’t live in a gym, he’s too busy stealing souls. Remembering that I’m still pissed about his little disappearing trick, I drop my hands and give him a look.

“An extra challenge,” he says with a smug smile, our clothes now having disappeared. I lick my lips, deciding I can be mad at him later.

“That doesn’t get you off the hook for bailing on our date,” I inform him, trying to pretend my heart isn’t hammering like a jackhammer and my voice isn’t a little bit hoarse from screaming.

“But I just got you off twice, so it’s certainly a good start,” he says, playfully smacking my ass as he saunters to the bathroom.

Tricky devil, I mentally think to him, then mentally smack myself. Some habits die hard.

He stops dead in his tracks. Of course I’m a tricky devil.

My jaw drops, my eyes big as saucers. How?

How am I a tricky devil? I told you before, I have all sorts of tricks in my bag.

You know that’s not what I mean. How are we mentally speaking? Damion and I were able to mentally converse when he possessed me, but I just assumed that little trick ended when we exorcised him.

I don’t know. Perhaps you having my demonic name in your mind is linking ours together? Damion gave me his true name, as well as his sigil, to break the chaos magick link that bound us together.

You’ve never given it to someone else? Immediately, I regret asking in the event he has. Just the thought makes me see red.

No. Okay, liking that answer. I’ve never had a wannabe Sabrina the Teenage Witch entrap me before.

Okay, not liking that answer. I flip him the bird, and he laughs in my mind. Is our ability to communicate based on proximity? I wonder.

Can we mentally converse if we’re apart? Good question. Let’s test it out. He disappears.

You’re still in the doghouse for your disappearing trick, I mentally inform him, but no response.

“One more time,” I hear him call, now from my bathroom. I do as instructed, sending him a mental message; again, he doesn’t respond. Damion now appears before me, dressed in a designer Italian suit and blood-red tie. Interesting. So I’ll need to be close to gift you the perfection that is my voice, he whispers seductively in my mind, pulling me into his arms.

Something about looking at him while he’s mentally speaking to me makes it that much more intimate. Erotically so. But of course I don’t tell him that. Your ego knows no bounds, I scoff, straightening his tie.

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