Page 4 of Darkdream

I drink it in at first, reveling in the taste. All human fear sustains me, sustains my demons, but Libra’s is more intoxicating than most. In nearly an eternity of creating nightmares, I’ve never encountered a human whose fear is so powerful, so pure. So delectable. It calls to me.

What is it about her that makes her so special? So addictive?

I lean back and close my eyes, happy to feed, and then things change. As the dream gets deeper, darker, her fear turns to dread, and then to panic. I want her to be afraid, yes, but I don’t want this human to go too far. For one thing, I dislike the taste of panic. It has an unpleasant, sour edge. For another, I enjoy visiting Libra. I need what she can give me and I won’t let this human ruin her dreams. Besides, I don’t like where this one is going.

With a sigh, I manifest in her realm, standing at the foot of her bed. She’s covered in sweat and has curled into a tight ball, so tense that the tendons on her neck stand out in stark relief.

Her dark hair is damp and curling, and there’s a little frown on her exquisite face. She whimpers in her sleep and then suddenly tosses to the other side, restless and afraid.

I move to her side and place my hands on either side of her head, then lower my lips to hers, relishing how sweet she tastes. She calms, unconsciously receiving the dream I send her, and then slowly relaxes, her muscles uncurling.

I’m not offering her fear this time. Instead, I’m giving her something I think we both will want, something I’ve never bestowed on a human before. I may be the King of Nightmares, but I have power over other types of dreams as well.

With a satisfied smile, I sink back into her subconscious to enjoy the fantasy with her.

LIBRA

I’ve never been to this mansion before, but at the same time, I’m certain I was invited to this party. Although party isn’t quite the right word. It’s more like a competitive orgy. There are people having sex everywhere, in couples and in groups, and there seems to be some sort of prize for the person who has the…most sex? The best sex? I’m not sure, but I don’t feel like competing, especially since I don’t know anyone here.

To my left is a gorgeous redhead spread out on a table like a feast. Three men are partaking of her; two are sucking on her nipples while a third has his face buried between her legs, and all three are stroking their cocks in a desperate search for release. The woman’s hips are pumping against the third man’s tongue as she thrashes and cries with pleasure. Even from here, I can see the puddle of moisture underneath her; it’s obvious they’ve been at this a while and she’s already come several times. She reaches another peak as I watch, pressing the man even more firmly between her legs and riding his face, completely uninhibited and lost in her own pleasure.

Despite my discomfort at the whole thing, my body reacts to what I’m seeing. My heart picks up speed and I feel my nipples tingle as they harden. There’s a low swoop in my belly as heat swirls between my thighs. I press my legs together to ease the sensation, but it only turns me on more.

I pick my way around the moaning, writhing groups and find an uninhabited room. I sit on the bed, uncertain what I should do. Do I leave? Change my mind and find a partner? Take care of my own needs?

Why am I here?

I lean back and realize I was mistaken; this room isn’t empty after all. There’s a man standing at the foot of the bed. He has bronze hair and gold eyes, and is dressed in a silk robe that hangs open, exposing his smooth, well-muscled flesh to me.

His gaze is intent on mine, and a smile hovers at his lips. “Libra. You’re here. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Although I don’t know him, this seems right. As if perhaps I was waiting for him as well. He slips off the robe and allows me to study him. He has the long, lean build of a champion swimmer, a light dusting of bronze body hair, and two cocks. The one in front is long and semi-hard, while the one hanging behind it is slightly smaller and thinner.

As I watch, he strokes the larger cock, making it even harder. The secondary one responds as well, stiffening slightly. My own arousal intensifies at the sight of him getting more and more turned on.

“Do you want these?” he asks, gesturing to his growing cocks, and I nod, mesmerized by him.

“Tell me,” he demands, and I find my voice.

“I want them. I want you. All of you.” The words come out husky and a little wanton.

He smiles, a cat-that-ate-the-cream satisfied expression. “Take off your clothes,” he says in a soft voice, and I comply without hesitation. I don’t try to be sexy or alluring; all I want in this moment is to be naked, to be touched by him. I toss my jeans and tank top in a corner and then unhook my bra, my full breasts spilling forth. It takes a moment to remove my panties; they’re stuck to me by my own wetness.

He nods with approval and joins me on the bed, lying on his back, his arms folded behind his head. “Tell me what you want,” he says. “Do you want to suck me? Ride me? Tie me up? Or should I do all those things to you?”

After what happened all those years ago with Evan and his friends, I prefer control in the bedroom. The idea of having my choice taken away from me, of being forced, makes me sick. And yet, the notion of being dominated by this man makes me hot.

“Hold me down, take me hard, and make me come like it’s your job. Like we’re competing with all those people out there and we’re better than any of them,” I say.

In an instant, he flips our positions, pinning me beneath him. He bracelets my wrists together, locking my hands over my head. “Keep your hands here or you’ll be punished,” he orders, and then dips his chin and kisses me. His teeth scrape against my bottom lip, and he tastes like darkness, desire, destiny. Before I can even comprehend it, his mouth is moving, nibbling my jaw, sucking my neck, teasing my aching nipples.

He slides lower, his tongue dipping into my bellybutton, before he hoists my butt up with both hands and opens my legs like a book. He dives in like a starving man, nuzzling between my legs.

“Say my name,” he demands, and I realize I don’t know it. I make a helpless gesture, distracted by the pleasure building in me as he laps at my center. “Callister,” he growls. “My name is Callister. Scream it so you’ll remember.”

He sucks down hard on my clit and I do scream, begging him not to stop.

“Come,” he orders. “I want to taste it.”

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