Page 5 of Dreaming of Darkness

She was lovely, my human. Not that it would have mattered. My soul would’ve found hers regardless of if she had been a complete graveyard hag. Her hair was dark gold wound up from the top of her head into some kind of complicated knot. Thewisps that had fallen free stuck to speckled cheeks that were a soft pink. I longed to slip my claws along her scalp and tilt her face up to mine so I could see every part of her features. And then memorize them. My claws twitched, suddenly hungry for the softness against my skin.

Because that, above all, would be the ultimate award between us.

I could touch her. Really feel her against my own skin.

An incubus or a succubus could only touch a living soul if that soul already belonged to them. This was what my kind meant by soulmates. It is not that we are torn from the same soul, like the Lords of the underworld, we simply are born waiting for our soul’s reflection in another. And until Destiny brings us together, we would wait.

And I definitely did not anticipate destiny bringing me here.

“It can’t be what?” She whispered back at me, her arms curling around her middle.

I blinked but was immediately distracted again. Something in my chest tugged hard. She was growing distressed. Her lips were soft, parted, her chest rising, and falling quickly as she stared at me for the first time that she saw the demon inside of some kind of image over myself. She was seeing the real me, and she still hadn’t run. Was she concerned? Deeply. But she remained.

My instincts to comfort her rose to the surface.

To my surprise though, it was her that stepped closer to me, those wide blue eyes like ice chips, staring up at me and a face of pure curiosity and wonder.

“What are you?” She asked me, "Are you real? Because if I’m hallucinating, I’m gonna have a lot to explain to my therapist next week.”

“What’s a therapist?” I asked her before I could stop myself. This way of communicating would require some practice. Most of my conversations with those whose dreams I entered heard only what I wanted them to.

Clearly this human heard it all.

“Someone who would tell me if I have gone crazy,” she answered politely, her arms suddenly falling to her side. “So am I going crazy?” She asked me again.

I shook my head, taking a step away from her. I needed room, this was close– too close. She was too close. The fan above us shifted, and the scent of her, it was overwhelming. She smelled like cherries and vanilla and I longed to press my face against her throat and breathe her in. The thought of it alone made my palms twitch as I considered whether or not she would taste as good as she smelled.

“I can’t decide if I should be freaking out,” she said, her hands still curling and uncurling nervously as she looked at me. “But something tells me deep down inside that you’re not here to hurt me. Tell me that’s right?”

I was already shaking my head. If only she knew. I would never be able to hurt her. I would tear off my horns before laying a hand on this woman in violence. Incubi were devoted mates, or least we had been back when we’d been allowed to find them.

She would learn–no we would learn together.

The overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around her, to carry her somewhere dark and warm and safe, where I could soothe her with my voice with my venom.

But not yet

I had to explain. Before I lost control completely, or even worse before I woke up. Because I thought, for the first time in my life, something about my mate had pulled me into her real world instead of the dream realm.

“You can call me Traum,” I said, keeping my voice soft. If the legends were true, my voice, it would be alluring to her, calling to the primal part of her that recognized the bond between us, even now. “And you are not going crazy. I’m an incubus.”

I heard her breath catch, but she remained still, nostrils flared.She considered me closely, her head tilting slightly. She took me one more time, skimming from head to toe and back up to my head, obviously noting the horns.

I nearly wanted to pray to the Fates, which was completely unlike me, but having my mates eyes on me for the first time was a new experience.

“Are you here to make me dream, or oh my gosh, am I still asleep?” she asked, now looking around the room for some kind of sign that all of this was a strange subconscious illusion she had fallen into. She would find none, but still, I humored her, taking another moment to soak in my soul mate's presence while she peered around us.

She was beautiful. My fangs burned, the venom that leaked into my tongue and mouth ready to make her writhe beneath me at our first touch. I forcibly swallowed, trying to focus my mind.

Do not scare her, I chanted internally.

Ten minutes ago, if someone had asked if I would like a mate, I would’ve laughed in their face. My siblings were romantics. They were devoted to the premise and honor of a mate.

They deserved a mate.

Not me.

Fates, I was nothing but a power-hungry demon. I hadn’t even considered what it would be like to share my life with someone.

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