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How do I keep her for myself, so I can taste her forever? Feed on her forever?
I wait impatiently until night falls in Haven’s Hollow, the little town where she lives, then travel through dreams until I reach her tiny apartment. But it’s empty and still, her bed neatly made. Wherever Libra may be sleeping, it isn’t here.
Well, well. She might be gone, but she can’t escape me that easily. I manifest corporeal form and lick the air, searching for her unique, alluring flavor. Most fear has a slight metallic tang, but hers is warm and sweet—what I imagine sun-ripened oranges might taste like. No matter where she hides, I can find her.
I jump into the dream of the nearest sleeper and start searching, leapfrogging from one mind to the next as I follow the taste of Libra’s fear. It doesn’t take long before I find her, at the haunted lake of all places, and I fade into the background to watch her latest nightmare.
In it, she’s once again much younger than she is now, and is sitting on a couch next to the same dark-haired man as before. Her body language is closed off and tense, but the man seems relaxed, sprawled out and comfortable. There’s a clear power dynamic at play and he’s in control. Again.
“Come on, baby. It’s just a little favor. I’ll give you a present when you get back.”
“A present?”
He grins. “Your choice of any one thing in my inventory.”
She chews her lip and gives a little shrug. “Evan, please. I don’t want to. Can’t somebody else go?”
“Nobody does as good a job as you, baby. You know that.” He leans over and kisses her, hard and deep.
It’s aggressive, an act of ownership, not love. I may not understand humanity well, but I know about power. I can tell this is wrong. I frown.
“Eliza, it’s not a big deal,” he says when he pulls back. “You’re doing me a favor. You’re my girlfriend; surely you don’t mind helping me out? I’d go if I could, but I have another appointment. You know how busy I am. It’s how I afford to buy you gifts, like that bracelet you’re wearing.”
Her expression is torn and she fiddles with the silver chain on her wrist. “Of course I want to help. But Jonas creeps me out. He always hits on me.”
“You’re probably imagining it. He’s just being friendly.”
“I swear I’m not. He says stuff like how he wants to take me out, how I should call him if we ever break up, how pretty he thinks I am. That kind of thing.”
The man, Evan, rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
“But I don’t!” Libra—Eliza—curls in on herself, shoulders slumping.
“He’s one of my best clients, and you’re part of why. He likes you, Eliza. As long as you keep making deliveries, he’ll keep buying.”
“But he’s always touching me. A hand on my knee, or brushing his fingers along my neck. He doesn’t respect that I’m with you, Evan. I only like it when you touch me. Not when your friends do. I know you think sharing me with them is a good reward for them, but I only want you, baby.”
That catches my attention. He shares her with his friends? When she’s unwilling? Some primal part of me deep inside surges with anger and I take a step forward, ready to intervene. She’s just a child and she deserves so much better than this asshole.
With a start, I back up and shake my head. I have to remember that this dream is a memory. It already happened. I can’t save her from this, but I’m proud that she managed to save herself.
How peculiar. I have never, ever wanted to help a human in a dream. I have the strangest reaction to this woman and I cannot understand why. Even through my fading anger, the citrusy taste of her fright sings to me.
It’s decided. I have to find a way to keep her and her fear in my life, but also save her from the memories of this man. There must be a way to do that, even if it means breaking all of my rules.
Then again, what’s the point of being king if you can’t do what you please?
Evan’s jaw goes tight. “Do you have any idea how much money I make off Jonas? He can touch you all he wants, so long as he keeps buying from my supply. I told him he was welcome to you.”
“You don’t mean that. Evan, please don’t make me go—”
Her words are cut off by his sudden movement.
With barely a blink, he strikes, slapping her hard across the face. “Stop arguing and deliver the fucking product. We’re done talking about it.”
He gets up and storms away, leaving her sobbing in his wake. “Evan, wait!” she calls, but he doesn’t return.
He’s given her an order, and it’s clear he expects to be obeyed.
