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All the lights in her flat were on, even though it had been dark when it had happened. Joy tried to scream, but no sound came out. She tried to crawl away, but her fingers merely dug into the marble floors, and her body didn’t move a single inch.
He roughly flipped her around, then knelt on her thighs, his hands pressing her wrists painfully to the ground.
“No …” The word slurred out of her mouth. “No, stop, no—” She wanted to fight, but she couldn’t move.
Weak, a small part of her yelled. Fuckingpathetic.Move! Move, you bitch, move!
Tears filled her eyes. She arched, trying to scream again, trying to buck him off her body, even though she knew it was futile. He reached for her skirt, roughly shoving it up her hips. For some reason, in these dreams, she was almost always in a skirt and was never wearing underwear, even though in reality, she’d beenwearingthelatterand jeans.
It was happening again—it was going to happen again—
Wake up, wake up, wake up—WAKE THE FUCK UP JOY.
Suddenly, she could breathe. She sat up, realising then that her hands were free. When she looked up, her rapist was floating in the air, scrabbling at his throat, his eyes bulging.
What?
Joy blinked, andademon—no,Malachi, appeared. His red eyes burned as they locked on hers, his clawed hand wrapped entirely around her rapist’s throat. He stood unmoving, like he was waiting for her command.
Heart pounding, Joy stood. Was this still a dream? Was this really happening? Nothing made sense.
“What do you want me to do?” Malachi’s voice sounded like it was coming from inside her head. His wings flared wide, making her heart thump.
Hadn’t Malachi said she could call him through the bond, and he’d appear to help her? But Malachi had come beforehecould do anything—but hadn’t he already—?
Joy shook off the mechanics of it; none of it mattered.
Her eyes drifted to the pathetic man scrabbling at Malachi’s hold around his throat, his legs flailing.
“Please, please, no—” he begged, already crying, snot trailing down his nostrils. It was genuine, but it felt like a mockery.
“I want you to squeeze,” Joy said dispassionately. “And don’t stop squeezing until there’s nothing left.”
Her rapist’s eyes widened. “No, please—!”
Without another word, or a single pause, Malachi squeezed. Her victim’s eyes rolled back and his throat burst like fresh fruit, blood and flesh scattering across Malachi’s robes, the floor, and a bit of Joy’s legs. There was a sickening crack as Malachi kept squeezing, grinding his fist until bones crumbled to dust.
The head rolled off, and the body fell with nothing to support it.
Joy moved. She didn’t know how, but she’d yanked Malachi’s head down.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Like a switch had been flipped, Joy was suddenly burning with desire. Ever sincehe’dtouched her—since he’d violated her, the thought of sex—the thought of beingtouched, had sent Joy’s skin crawling with ants.
But right now, after seeing Malachi kill him—fuck, the fact that he’dasked—that he’d known his death was hers alone to take—
“Fuck me,” she said frantically, “put your fucking mouth on me—”Get his fucking touch off my skin.
“Yes,” Malachi said worshipfully, sinking to his knees.
She blinked and she was on her bed—stillin her former flat, the sheets soft and decadent, the windows wide open, letting in the soft light of the moon.
Malachi immediately pushed her thighs apart. She wasn’t wearing underwear again, but it didn’t feel horribly exposing and damning this time. She arched with a bitten-off cry when that hot mouth finally closed around her dripping cunt.
Her hands flew down to grab his horns, and he let out a grunt. His deliciously slick tongue slid between the lips of her pussy, then swirled around her clit, making her see stars. He shoved that slick tongue inside her, flexing it,thrustingit—filling her in a way she’d never been filled before.
“Yes, God, please, please—” She gripped his horns for balance and lifted her hips, rocking into his mouth, tears of frustration brimming in her eyes.
