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Again, I head to bed early, and for the first time in months, I dream about my mother’s death.
I’m huddled under the war room desk, watching blood pool around her head. I’ve had this dream enough to pull myself out before it gets too…
I wake, gasping for air and covered in sweat, and try to shake the lingering tendrils of dread and unease. Some time later, Ifinally lie back down and drift off, only to wake several more times that night. Not because the dream recurred, but because I was afraid it might.
At 5 a.m. I give up and get up for the day, taking my time in the shower.
As I lather with the same scented wash I used the day before, the scent that three of four house heads said made me smell like heaven, I let my mind wander.
It doesn’t take long to go from idle wandering to active fantasizing. What would Axe’s hands feel like on my body?
And Enzo’s?
And Dash’s?
Would their touch make my head spin and the world fall away a second time? Would it do the same if more than just our hands touch?
My own hands drift downward, almost on their own. Down my sides and across my thighs.
I dip a finger between my lips, shocked at how wet and swollen I am.
The softest graze of my finger has stars exploding behind my eyes.
I almost feel bad. Almost keep myself from fucking my hand. I almost don’t allow myself to have an incredible orgasm while thinking about three demons having their way with me.
But once the pleasure subsides, and I’ve rinsed off, I can’t bring myself to feel guilty about it.
Masturbation isn’t off limits to pre-Rites couples, in fact it’s encouraged or there would be a lot of frustrated, on-edge angels.
No, I don’t feel guilty about doing it.
Just that I’ve only ever gotten so wet for Gael. Only come so hard thinking about him, or from his hand, his mouth.
I didn’t think anyone else could make me feel like this.
I try not to think about what that means as I dry off and put on my demon makeup.
They’re demons.
They are, by nature, off-limits and, therefore, incredibly enticing.
That’s all.
Plus, one of them is a succubus. He’s probably put some kind of demon mark on me that’s affecting my hormones.
That’s it.
I’ve almost convinced myself as I leave for the day. Almost.
On my way to the coffee shop to meet Stevie before class, my tablet vibrates in my bag. I pull it out to see a message from Stevie and ignore the sinking feeling of it not being from Axe.
Stevie Corvus-Stocklin
The Burrow is closed. Somehow their kitchen flooded, so we gotta eat with the plebs in the dining hall.
Dove Collins
No problem. I’ll meet you there.
