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It’s a dream. What’ll really go wrong if I touch the monster in my dream? It’s not like he can hurt me, right. Besides, I can just wake up if this gets too weird.
I gesture at him with my fingers. “Sure. Gimme.”
Does he understand that? I guess so because he puts his forearm within my reach.
He’s hot—and I don’t mean his strong yet surprisingly attractive appearance. My fingertip nearly sizzles when I press it against his strange red skin, though maybe that was just an electric jolt stemming from this weird connection that already exists between us. Following his example, I slide my finger up his arm and back, and while his skin definitely started out way too hot for me, it’s just a little bit feverish by the time I’m back away from him.
As though he doesn’t want to lose that connection, he takes two steps after me.
“Hope.” My name comes out in a purr, his purple eyes shining brightly. “You honor me with your essence.”
See that? That right there puts me firmly in the “you must be dreaming” camp. There was no point in continuing what would inevitably become a monsterfucker fantasy if I couldn’t actually communicate with him. I’m a modern woman who enjoys her sexuality, but consent is a biggie for me. Even in my wet dreams, I’m not going to openly lust over the monster of my dreams when he has no idea that that’s what I’m doing.
That’s why his bottom half is covered up, after all. If I really want to see what he’s hiding, I gotta be able toaskhim about it.
Still, something’s weird about this. And, yeah, something’s weird about coming up with a monster in my dreams that I can fantasize about instead of, like, Ryan Gosling or Jason Momoa or something.
And, true, this guy kinda looks like Jason Momoa if he didn’t have tattoos or he was red with purple eyes, but still.
“Hey… I thought you said you can only speak a little English.”
“Yes. That is true. From your box with the moving pictures, I’ve learned some. A little. I’m a very good student.” His gorgeous chest puffs out in obvious pride. “I was the top of my class at the School of Mates before I was handpicked to serve under the duke.”
I don’t really understand a lot of what he said, but one thing for sure: that’s a lot of English, right there.
When I point that out, he says, “Now I am fluent. Because of your essence.”
“Mywhat?”
What is he talking about?
He waves his hand, gesturing at all of me. “Your essence. That which makes HopeHope.”
Oh. Like my soul, I guess.
Wait—
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s simple to understand, my mortal mate. With your touch and your open heart, you honored your male with your essence. You gave me everything that you are, and I’ve accepted it. Now I know everything about you, including your human tongue.”
He says ‘human’ like he’s not. ‘Mortal’, too. And while he’s obviouslynothuman… what about being mortal?
Who is he?
Who have I created?
“What is your name?”
He raps his chest with his first. “I am Sammael. Favored mage to Duke Haures, and Hope Mcreary’s male.”
Excuse me?
“Sammael.” His name is foreign on my tongue. Still, he preens when he hears me say it. “What do you mean, my male?”
“You are my mate.”
Yeah… that’s still not helping me.
