The sun has dipped below the horizon by the time I’ve come up with a halfway decent idea. Watching the snow accumulate as hours passed reminded me of a dream from when Ada was young. A castle made of ice. A cursed frozen prince who needed her help.
She might not even remember it, but it’s the best I’ve got.
As night falls, and once Ada’s bedroom light finally turns off, I get to work. There’s a lot to get done tonight, and I don’t know if she’ll pull me into her dreams.
My fingers are numb by the time I’m done, and my work is much cruder than I’d like, but my night has only just begun.
The message for Ada won’t be enough if Tom continues to bother her.
He needs to stay away.
I hate that my immediate thought is the same one of tearing his throat out, but I don’t let that derail me again. I’m not going to kill her neighbor. Being the subject of Ada’s iredoesn’t warrant that. But I have to get him to stay away. Scare him off.
A dark laugh bubbles out of me.
That won’t be a problem. I’ve had plenty of practice scaring people.
For the first time in ages, I reach out to a new dreamer.
Sifting through the sea of sleeping minds for one specific person is difficult unless you’re highly attuned to them. But finding Tom is surprisingly simple. He stands out like a beacon, a sickly yellow thread that I follow to the source, tugging on it until my vision goes hazy.
As it comes back into focus, static shocks scatter across my skin, as if Tom’s dreaming mind is trying to repulse me. I ignore them. I’ve endured far worse already.
I take a moment to get my bearings, finding that, yes, the mask is still there. I’m in a cabin that looks familiar. Far too familiar for my liking.
What the fuck is this guy doing dreaming about Ada’s cabin? Has he spent a lot of time in there?
My fangs ache with the need to tear through flesh, even as the tug of Tom’s dream directs me toward my new role. It guides me through the living room into the bedroom, where moonlight streams in through the open curtains, shining on the empty bed.
Where the hell is Tom? How does he know what Ada’s bedroom looks like? Was Tom her lover?
A fierce surge of possessive rage threatens to choke me at the thought. It only intensifies as the dream compels me to undress.
I’m shaking with anger by the time I’m naked and slipping under the covers. This fucker is dreaming about Ada. Even if they werelovers, they’re not now. She’s not his.
She’smine.
The door to the bedroom creaks open. Footsteps approach slowly, followed by the weight of the bed dipping beside me, where I’ve covered myself entirely with the comforter. Bile rises in my throat as a hand smooths down my side, but I stay still. I don’t want to ruin the surprise in store for him.
“Such a sleepy girl.” The voice is soft, but it’s not a caress. It’s a whispered threat.
I let out a sigh, following the disgusting script laid out for me, and he chuckles.
“Shh, sweetheart. No need to wake up. I’ll take care of you.”
His body shifts behind me, and then he’s pressed up against my back, hand stroking over the blanket again, which does nothing to disguise his erection prodding into my thighs.
I’m going to kill him. Screw what I said before. I want his blood coating my claws as I watch the life drain out of his eyes.
“Relax,” he coos, feeling me stiffen. The blanket tugs down, and I seize the moment, my rage and disgust managing to override his dreaming mind enough to let me pin him, hand wrapped around his throat.
“Ahhh!” His shrill scream is music to my ears.
I smile down at this pathetic worm of a man. “Relax,” I growl, echoing back his words. My voice deepens as I embrace the nightmare I am. “I’ll take care of you.”
He screams again, writhing beneath me as he tries to escape. It’s a scene I’ve participated in dozens of times, and maybe that’s what allows me to keep control of the dream.
“What’s wrong?” I bare my sharp teeth at him in a twisted grin. “You wanted this. You came into her bedroom. You touched her. Now you’re getting your reward.”
