As I watch his curls spread out over his silk pillowcase, my fingers brush the fevered skin of his arm. It feels as if he’s beginning to cool down.
Atlas said he was cursed and that he’s waiting for a cure.
No one is allowed in the west tower after dark.
Is this the curse? That some creature is to come and fuck him senseless every night?
It is highly likely that I’m still downstairs, dreaming a vivid nightmare, my own subconscious trying to fill the void inside of me where his secrets belong.
And as I slip silently from his room at the top of the west tower, leaving him to rest in peace, I think that for Atlas’s sake, I really,reallyhope I’m suffering through a nightmare.
Atlas
11
AS MY EYES OPEN,I find that my body does not feel sticky and I appear well-rested. I am certain that it came to me last night, so I should feel depleted and disgusting, but I do not.
My confusion heightens as I feel something soft wrapped around my body. Tearing my eyes from the ceiling, I look down the length of my torso, finding a bath towel swaddling me.
What is happening? I never wake up directly after it leaves, and certainly not with the energy to wash myself.
Could it be…
A singular spark of hope rushes through me. This is the first time the routine has been different; could that mean something? While my eyes were directed somewhere else, did the cure float in from the Pacific and do my bidding?
I always assumed the cure would be a vial of some sort, some kind of potion or thick liquid. But instead, could it have been an unseen force or a guardian angel that came in with the morning tide?
My heart begins to thump wildly, and I take in the appearance of my room. My duvet is missing, and my clothes have obviouslybeen removed, but other than that, the state of my bedroom at the top of the west tower is just as it always has been.
Only, something is not quite right.
The lack of blinding lust in my stomach makes me believe I came last night, but the lack of my depleted energy makes me think thatitdid not. That’s the end goal after all—for an incubus to take your energy, both parties must orgasm.
I remember in the beginning, when it first started coming to me, and I couldn’t get hard under the weight of my fear, it would get so angry that it would pound into me until the sun came up, only to return again when the daylight faded away. But now, because I’m a terrible little thing, I give it exactly what it wants even when I don’t want to.
So why didn’t it finish the ritual?
Did the cure come and prevent it from taking my energy?
I force myself to recall my nightmare, to relive every moment. The darkness, the feel of its cold, clammy skin and sharp nails. The growls and the force of each harsh thrust, the sudden hiss of pain that sounded so raw.
And then… and then… silence.
It retracted its hands and pulled out from inside of me, leaving me shivering against the mattress.
Then suddenly: thescream.Or, it was more like a shriek. I could hear nothing else—not even the sound of my own breathing. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anything as terrifying.
Moments later, the darkness swallowed me up again, fully this time, and I lost consciousness.
That must have been it. That must have been the moment that whatever thiscurewas supposed to be came and rid me of the incubus who had claimed me.
I’m free. I think I’m finallyfree.
Leaping from my bed, I scurry to my closet, dressing myself quickly. Upon returning to my bedroom, I spot my duvet on the floor on the opposite side of my bed.
In the center of the fabric are several white streaks, showing proof of my own release from the night before. I wince, pathetically embarrassed that whatever holy being came into my room last night saw me in such a state.
But I have no time to dwell on semantics. Instead, I run down the stairs of the west tower, making my way to Hall E2.
