I stammer, embarrassed. "Uh... sorry. I was hungry. You know how it is, you start eating, and then suddenly, the whole pizza is gone, and you're left wondering what the hell just happened, like some food-induced blackout."
I am internally screaming, trying to shake the image of the dream out of my head. This is so damn embarrassing. My brain decided to take a vacation without telling the rest of me. And now I'm standing here trying to play it off like I didn't just have the most vivid, messed-up dream of my entire afterlife.
Emily rolls her eyes. "Hungry for what, exactly? Because from what we heard, it sure as hell wasn't pizza you were craving."
Sable giggles, "Yeah, unless that's some kind of new pizza topping I've never heard of."
I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Can we please just pretend like this never happened? I'm begging you, I'll do anything. I'll buy you both a pony if you let me live this down."
Emily smirks, "A pony? What are we, twelve? If you really want us to forget about your little sleep-talking session, about us no less—you'll have to do better than that."
Sable nods in agreement, "Yeah, I'm thinking more of a lifetime supply of chocolate and a foot massage whenever we want."
I sigh, resigned to my fate. "Fine, fine, whatever. I'll buy you all the chocolate in the world and rub your feet until my hands fall off. Just please, for the love of all that is holy, never mention this again."
Emily and Sable exchange a look. "Deal. But know that we'll never let you live this down. You're officially the pervert of the group now."
The girls leave and go to bed, and I flop back down on the couch.
I still can't shake the image of that mystery brunette. It's like she's burned into my retinas, haunting me.
Frustration consumes me. I swear, if this is some cosmic joke, I'm not laughing. The universe needs to quit messing with me and give me some answers before I lose what's left of my already messed-up mind.
I groan, rubbing my temples. My brain is stuck on this chick like a broken record. Those golden eyes, that sun-kissed skin—it's like she's haunting me, taunting me from the depths of my psyche.
I sigh heavily as I try to calm down. I take a few deep breaths and attempt to will myself back into submission. But Little Lucian is having none of it.
I mean, can you really blame me? After that wet dream, it's a goddamn miracle I haven't painted the ceiling yet. I let out a shaky breath, frustrated as hell. Part of me wants to say screw it, spank the monkey in shame—consequences be damned. But the tiny rational part of my brain that's still functioning knows that's a terrible fucking idea.
So, with a heavy heart, I try to ignore it and focus on the cooking show still droning on in the background.
But it's no use. I can only think about the mystery brunette.
Fuck, I need a drink. Or ten. Maybe if I get blackout drunk, I'll forget about this dream girl for a little while. One can only hope.
Danica
19
Iwake up to a world of pain, my face feeling like it's been used as a punching bag by a heavyweight champion. That red-haired bastard really did a number on me. As I slowly sit up, gingerly touching my face, I realize my nose is definitely broken. I feel like I've been run over by a truck, backed up on, and then run over again for good measure.
Defeated and disoriented, I survey my surroundings. I'm in a room on a ship, but it's unlike any ship's quarters I've ever seen. The room is surprisingly spacious, with ornate wooden panels lining the walls. A large, intricately carved desk sits in the corner, its surface covered with maps, charts, and various navigational instruments. The bed I'm sitting on is a grand four-poster affair draped with rich, velvety curtains in deep shades of red and gold. Plush carpets cover the floor. It's all opulent and luxurious, a far cry from what I would expect on a pirate ship.
Suddenly, the door swings open, and in walks the red-haired asshole himself, a smug grin plastered across his face. "Well, well, well, look who's finally come 'round," he drawls, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Three days—You took quite a beating there, lass."
Three days?
I jump up from the bed, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but immediately regret it as the room starts spinning like a carnival ride. I stumble, grabbing onto the bedpost for support.
"Sit down," he barks, his tone sharp. "Yer in no condition to be movin' about just yet."
I shoot him a nasty glare, my anger rising. "Yeah, well, your face is killing me. Whoever pummeled it must've taken pride in their work because you're rockingthat Pug look hard. Did you pay extra for that, or was it a special 'beat me senseless' discount?"
He huffs and begins to pour himself a drink.
"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" I seethe, with contempt.
He only smirks, like he's enjoying some private joke at my expense. "Captain Bloodbane at yer service," he says with a mock bow. "Ye be sailin' with the Crimson Brotherhood now, lass."
