Page 26 of Demon of Dreams

“Cory, I can only help you if I know what you’re talking about. I can promise you, what you say in this room will go no further. Now, would you like to try that again?”

6

CORY

God, the dean was condescending. Annoyingly, he was also right. I wasn’t making any sense. And he was the only person who seemed to have any information about what was happening to me.

“On my way here,” I said haltingly. “There was a car. A man. He gave me a ride. And then he said he needed to pull off, to sleep a little. I didn’t mean to fall asleep at the same time as him. I kind of thought he might murder me. But I was so tired, and I did, and then it was like—God, it was so real.”

“Go on.”

“In the dream, we were in the bathroom. Of the rest stop, where we’d pulled off. And I was naked. And he was, um, aggressive.”

“Did he initiate sexual contact? Or did you?”

“He did.” My cheeks were going to be permanently scarlet after this conversation. “He kept telling me I would like it. That it was time for me to learn—I mean, that my job was to—to get him off. It was the first time I’d ever done anything like that.”

“Your first time in a dream? Or in the waking world too?”

“Both,” I whispered.

I could still feel the driver’s hand in my hair. His cock in my mouth, hot and hard. The tang of sweat and precum. The tip hitting the back of my throat, me gagging on it, and how hard it had made me. My first time doing anything like that. And I’d loved it.

“And did you?”

“Did Iwhat?”

The dean laughed softly. “Get him off. I believe that was the expression you used.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah, I did.”

“And did you have an orgasm too?”

I didn’t want to answer that question. In the dream, I’d been manhandled and demeaned and put in my place. What did it say about me if I told the dean the truth?

“I did.”

My words were barely audible, but he nodded as if he’d expected that answer.

“In the dream only? Or did you have one in the waking world as well?”

“Both.”

I wanted to sink through the floor, but he didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. Considering the way he’d talked aboutarbitrary conceptsandpetty human concerns, maybe he really wasn’t aware. Maybe he talked about stuff like this all the time.

“I should have been more precise earlier,” he said after a moment. “A full incubus is a creature of the dreamworld, and has no need for sleep, as such. Humans briefly touch this world when they dream, and those dreams are what the full incubus enters. You, however, are part human. You can only enter the dreams of others while asleep yourself. The question of whether the dream you had was yours or someone else’s is, in truth, academic. The dream belongs to both of you. What matters is how much control you felt while in it. Did you feel out of control in the dream?”

I wasn’t sure. I had at times, but at others, when I’d been convinced itwasjust a dream, I’d told myself to enjoy it. It had felt so good. Natural. Right. But also humiliating, and disgusting, and somehowthathad felt good too.

And that wasn’t even touching the dreams I’d been having about the creature I could never see. The one who could read my mind, set my body on fire, and melt me into pleasure.

Part of me wanted to ask Dean Mansur if he knew what those could be about, but I couldn’t quite do it. Those dreams felt private somehow. Even if they were dangerous, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about them.

“I’m still not sure I feel right about this,” I said. “Manipulating, influencing. It still feels wrong.”

“Even if that’s what it takes for you to live?”

I shrugged. Exhaustion was creeping over me again.

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