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Ever since I met another me for the first time.

Now, I do not want to be dreaming about dropping to my knees in front of Damiano Barone. Or kissing him, or feeling him bend me over and rail me from behind. I definitely don’t want to be dreaming about him using my mouth or pushing my knees up to my ears and fucking me until I wake up soaking wet with my fingers buried deep in my pussy.

Truly. These are not dreams I’m actively seeking out.

But given all the shrinks, psychologists, and behavioral experts that I’ve talked to in my life, I have a pretty good idea of what those dreams mean.

It’s not that I sexually want Damiano. It’s that this is the way my fucked-up psyche is manifesting the excitement I feel at finally finding another one.

Another monster.

Another hunter.

Another me.

I mean, yeah, Damiano Barone is a douchebag mafia heir with a silver spoon jammed way up his rectum. He’s uptight, pompous, rude, and I don’t think I like him one bit.

But still, he’s another me, right here on campus. I find that extremely exciting.

Unfortunately, Damiano doesn’t appear to feel the same way. Well, maybe. I wouldn’t know. Because in the four weeks since that night we bumped into each other, he’s gone out of his way to avoid me, ignore me, snub me, and generally pretend I don’t exist.

I mean, that’s one way to deal with your problems. Believe me, I know. But being on the receiving end of this avoidance is starting to bug me. Like, how could he not feel the same rush of excitement and have the same burning questions I do, knowing that there’s another one of us here at school?

But apparently, he doesn’t. Whatever.

His loss.

“Well?”

My thoughts scatter before I glare up at Kirill. “Well, what?”

“Well, howsabout you tell me who sir is, and we skip to the part where I tease you relentlessly for the next month until I get an⁠—”

“Or you could just leave her the fuck alone?”

Oh, thank god.

I smile gratefully at the second figure who’s just walked into my room like he has an open invitation: Adrik, aka my other “big brother” here at school.

Kirill, for all his pestering annoyance, is right. As an only child, I do sometimes feel there were parts of growing up that I maybe missed out on. To be fair, my dad is basically like a big brother, and my childhood was filled with all sorts of epic shit. Hades Drakos is an A-fucking-plus father, even if he is nuts. I spent way more time learning how to fix a car, throw a knife, dodge a punch, and blow shit up as a kid than I did with dolls or tea parties.

Sorry, Mom.

Still, it’s not quite the same as actually having a brother. Luckily, since arriving at Knightsblood, that potential void in my social experience has been filled by these two dumbasses.

Kirill is guaranteeing I don't miss out on having an annoying, pestering older brother. Adrik is making sure I don’t lose out on having an ultra-protective one. A year older than Kirill and two years older than me, Adrik Volkov is the current president of The Reckless, one of the four student organizations that are the lifeblood of Knightsblood. They’re sort of like fraternities, only, you know, not filled with douchebags and toxic masculinity.

I don’t need looking after, and I’m pretty sure Adrik is aware of that. But he still does little things here and there. Like when I pledged with The Reckless and moved into The Spire, the old castle-like garrison that sits on a chunk of rock jutting out over the ocean and serves as the club's home base, Adrik made sure I got my own room instead of a two-room suite with a shared bathroom.

Okay, maybe that was more out of concern for any potential roommate that would get stuck with me, but anyway.

Neither Adrik or Kirill fully knows what I am or what I get up to now and then. But they know me well enough to get that my…prickly demeanor is more than just talk.

“Stop fucking teasing her,” Adrik grunts in his typical deep baritone that sounds like stone scraping against stone. His chiseled face is its usual blank, emotionless wall. But I know him well enough to be able to see the glint in his eyes that says he’s just fucking with Kirill.

“Well she was obviously having a sex dream about someone she was calling sir,” Kirill snickers, ignoring the murderous glare I shoot him. “And, well, shit, Adrik. That’s just plain amusing to me.”

Adrik rolls his eyes and sighs. “Is there anyone on this campus you haven’t had a sex dream about?” He tosses at Kirill. Then he instantly scrunches his face up. “Wait, fuck. I don’t think I want to know⁠—”