Page 3 of Dream a Little Dream

No.

Histormentor?

Probably.

“Come on, buddy.”

Somehow, this didn’t feel like a rescue.

It felt like a kidnap.

He cast one last glance over his shoulder, searching for any sign of his mum, but only found the dark-eyed man staring at him as if confining him to memory.

He left an imprint right back.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe,” Jack said, securing him in the backseat.

As the car pulled away, the boy pressed his face against the window, watching the house, his home, and the mystery man shrink into the distance.

Chapter one

I Wanna Be Adored

Exactly ten years later, September 21st, 2024

The thumping bass reverberated through Aaron’s bones as he weaved onto the dance floor, a sea of bodies rippling with pulsating energy.

He couldn’t quite call it his happy place. He was rarely happy. Yet over the years, it had become exactly that. Probably because of the anticipation. Thepotential. And there wasn’t a single place in the entire world he’d rather be on his birthday than here, the central London basement nightclub, dancing within a throng of sweaty, male bodies. Despite how he was supposed to be hundreds of miles away, preparing for yet another transition. Another stage of his so-called life. Another personality to maintain.

But this was his last chance.

The fusion of house, pop and electronic dance melted into remix after remix, each track blending into the next with euphoric drops, high tempo rhythms, and bright synths causing him to move. To dance. To fill the surrounding space and meldinto the throng. A slave to the music, he was a solitary figure amidst the crowd, able to switch off.

This was his me-time.

The irony of that hung heavy.

Cause who the fuck was he?

Club management had asked him once if he fancied a job in their cages. He didn’t have the heart to tell them they’d been asking a minor back then, having been scoping out this place since he was sixteen. He wasn’t a minor anymore. At nineteen—today—he could probably take them up on their offer. Fuck knew he needed the cash, and getting paid to relieve his dark soul was a definite bonus. But he didn’t come here to be on display, though. He came to dance among others alone.

Came to try his luck.

It was running out.

Aaron ruffled his hair, the dusky pink he’d died over the white-blond a bright flame under the pulsating strobe lights. The hair alone caught enough attention, but it was his body, slender and gyrating, with tight jeans hanging low on his hips, T-shirt clinging to his trim frame, drawing every eye to him. No one came close to him, though. His electric fence kept the beasts at bay. A bloke he’d used to give favours to in return for a few quid alluded to him having a ‘touch me and die’sort ofvibe.The bloke hadn’t been wrong.

He was still alive, though.

But no matterwherehe went, men tried to get near him.Touchhim. Desperate for his attention, they all vied for a tiny piece of his acknowledgement. They couldn’t help it. He didn’t blame them, either. He was a catch. For the men who were slaves to the sweet, sultry, and psychotic, that was. But the invisible fortress built up around him years ago left nothing for anyone to hook onto. He wasimpenetrable.

Unless he wanted to be penetrated, that was.

Today?

Not today, ta.

He scanned the room languidly, checking if there was anything out there worthy of his consideration before leaving all this insanity behind for good. Inferno had been his temporary haven, where the pounding music drowned out the incessant whispers following him around like spectres. He’d found a semblance of peace here. The ability to lose himself on the anonymity of the dance floor.

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