by A. K. Koonce
It’s chaos in this place. It’s good she didn’t come today. She’s not ready. I want to ease her into it. I showed up early to do just that.
And yet, Phoenix was faster.
I should go talk to her. Find out what the hell Phoenix is talking about.
Dating her.
“You’re not dating her,” I call back over my shoulder as I walk away, not even looking at him as I shove open the metal doors, but I can sense him following behind me at a leisurely pace.
“Maybe. You’ll find out when we wake you up to the sound of her fucking orgasms milking my cock tonight.”
My fists clench so hard my nails dig into my skin.
Fucking soulless.
It takes everything in me to keep walking, my shoes pounding the pavement as I practically run to Dormitory J.
Why would he say that shit?
He’s lying.
She’s too smart to be associating with demons. Especially a soulless demon.
The continuous mantra of reassurance circles my mind as I stride down the hall and fling open our door in a matter of seconds.
She lies quietly on the bottom bunk below Saint, who apparently skipped gym as well. She’s curled up on her side beneath a thin white sheet, sweat making her long hair stick to her face as she breathes quiet sounds in her sleep.
“What are you jogging in here like a mutt in heat for?” Saint’s taunting words remind me just how good of friends him and the fucking soulless incubus are.
They’re both assholes.
“What’s with her and Phoenix?” I jut my chin at him and close the door quietly behind me.
“What do you mean?” The vampire’s eyes shine with cruel amusement as he watches me and I know he knows exactly what I mean.
Fucking prick.
“Why’s he think they’re dating?” I don’t play around, I’m not into his games. I just want to know what they’re doing with her.
Right now.
“I don’t think he thinks anything.” At the sound of his twisting words I nearly bark at him with the growl crawling up my throat, but he cuts me off. “He’s dating her, Malek. Why? Is that—is that an issue for you?”
“He’s not fucking dating her. Stop. Stop with the eerie games. Tell me what you two fucks are doing.”
Saint leans up on one casual elbow to really speak with me, like we’re having the most normal conversation in the world instead of waiting for me to rip into him the moment he tells me whatever cruel plan they’re using her for.
“Dogs are so predatory. They piss all over everything in an attempt to claim the whole damn world. You just met her. You didn’t have time to hike your leg, little pup.” The way that bastard shrugs his shoulders at me has me striding to him so fast, I don’t even realize it when I grip his collar and bring his face down to mine, making him teeter on the edge of his bed.
And that demented smile never falters.
His gaze drops and an uneasy feeling churns through me when he glances down at my curled lips.
“Has anyone ever told you,” he tilts his head, drawing out his words slowly, “Has anyone ever told you you have a nice mouth, Malek?”
I shove him away hard enough that his back cracks the brick wall.
His smile slices deeper into his amused features as humming laughter shakes through him.
The door swings open casually and the soulless fuck who started all of this glances from Saint to me with a slow shift of his gaze.
“Problem?” He arches his fiery brow at me and my fingers flex into my palm all over again.
“What the fuck are you doing with her?” I growl out, my voice raising more and more the longer I think about it.
“Nothing.” Phoenix shrugs.
“Mmmm imagine what she’ll be doing with him though,” the conniving vampire whispers with a suggestive wag of his dark brows.
And that’s what sets me off.
My wolf snarls out in snapping teeth, half warping my body in an image of fur and claws before I can stop it. The way the demon tips his head up, offering his neck like he’s daring me, courses rage throughout my body.
And then white feathers flash into the room so fast, I don’t even see him until big eyes are looking down on me. The angel man from next door pins me to the floor, his gaze wild while he holds me firmly in place.
“Quiet the fuck down over here,” he says calmly, his voice a steady whisper.
My palm collides with his shoulder and before he topples backwards, his big wings flutter and he lands with ease on his feet.
All four of us are this rising energy of aggression and I don’t see it settling anytime soon.
Not until one of us is dead.
Then the quiet breath of a sensual moan slips from her lips when she turns in her sleep. The sheet slips away, revealing the thin lace of her panties hugging the perfect curve of her ass and all four of us are staring at her.
Quiet settles in. That’s all it takes to shut us all up.
It isn’t death that we need, it’s the perfect, tempting body of one prodless woman.
The tension in my body shifts just looking at her. A throat clears from somewhere behind me but for several seconds, no one says a single word.
Her white shirt is being held together at the middle by a single tiny button. The soft curves of the bottom of her breasts peek out beneath the twisted shirt and my lips part just looking at her. So much of her smooth stomach is on display that my fingers twitch at my sides with the thought of running my palms down her body.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
So many thoughts slam through my mind at once. The image of those long legs wrapped around my hips, her body arching against me, her head tipped back with complete pleasure—
“I’m going to need you to stop looking at my girlfriend like that, mutt.”
And here we go again.
Eight
Izara
I’m jolted awake by the dorm room door banging open and smashing against the wall, my delicious dream with Chayanne fading away. Sometimes I think I force the reoccurring dream with the sexy singer and sometimes I think it’s just a gift, a gift that I deserve after a day like yesterday.
Before I’m fully awake, I’m hauled from the bed by rough hands.
The blanket that Saint gave me tangles with my long legs, causing confusion in both my mind and my body that promptly makes me stumble to the ground.
I swear, if someone has come to bully me again, I’ll gladly let my Prod tear them to pieces this time. They earned a spot on my imaginary hit list for disrupting my dream alone.
The grogginess clears from my vision and I blink away the last remnants of sleep from my eyes to find a school bodyguard looming over me. The sight of his massive frame and jet black uniform covering him from black reflective helmet to big shining boots is terrifying. His whole stature stands at a threatening angle and in his hand he grips his magical buzzing club.
What the fuck?
“Confinement.” The guard’s voice is little more than a snarl as he reaches out to me.
I scramble away from his grip, panic drills through my chest. “I didn’t do anything!”
The commotion stirs my roommates into wakefulness. Slight growls and curses whisper around the darkness.
Dawn hasn’t crept into the sky and the moon still shines down on my kicking attempts to escape.
“Don’t fucking touch her.” Dark rage is in Phoenix’s eyes. Pale light slices over his features, but then the guard blocks him out, lunging for me, hand closing around my ankle in a vice-like grip. The sting of harsh magic accompanies his touch, and it pulls at me, tearing me away the moment his skin meets mine.
Images and sound fall away. There’s nothing but white noise and darkness and the feeling of panic pressurizing my chest. I’m falling through a void, unaware of how far I’m going until I reach the drop below.
My ass hits something soft and the wind knocks from my lungs all at once.
I blink a
nd everything becomes visible, tangible, again. It takes a moment for the vertigo to subside. Another moment passes for me to realize I’m in a confined room a few inches wider than the length of my arms spread out on either side. There’s a small pallet I’m sitting on that’s obviously a bed, a thin crisp sheet and no pillow. There’s a tin bowl in the corner that reeks of shit.
I feel a small draft coming from a pipe in one of the four white walls. There’s no sign of a door, just a barred window that my head wouldn’t even fit through.
And peering in through the bars is Headmaster Willms.
His old face is so wrinkled with disapproval he resembles an old, saggy dog.
The fucker.
“Ah, Miss Castillo,” the rumble of my name coming from his mouth is condescending. “I was so hoping it wouldn’t come to this. And on your first day. Not the best record to start out with.” He adjusts the little frames perched on his nose.
I push myself up to my knees in the cramped cage and wrap my fingers around the cold steel bars.
“I haven’t done anything. Why am I here?”
Dr. Willms sighs. His thumb and forefinger press at the bridge of his nose, pushing at those pretension glasses all over again. “There are rules, Miss Castillo. Rules that everyone must follow if they want to reform back into society.”
I’m trying. The words don’t exactly come out. Just the feel of them in the back of my throat is vile.
“Did you or did you not skip last period gym class?”
Fuck. Everything is clear now.
Gym. The literal bane of my existence right now.
“That wasn’t my fault.” I rush to defend myself. My neck arches almost unconsciously so he can see the bruising I know is there around my throat.
I had every intention of going to gym—okay, that’s an outright lie, but I made an effort. I was attacked right outside of the building. They can’t hold it against me, can they?
Apparently they can.
“Classes are mandatory, Miss Castillo. You are not exempt from them, no matter what extenuating circumstances you claim happened.” His gaze barely strays to my neck. He doesn’t even care that the wild pack of mutts in this place tried to kill me.
I’m the one being punished for it.
This whole situation is fucking backwards.
“Twenty-four hour confinement,” he decides, his voice the gavel banging down. I deserve a defense, I deserve to explain.
That matters little to the headmaster. A moment later, he disappears in a swirling puff of white smoke, and I’m left alone with the echoing thunder of my heartbeat.
There’s minimal lighting in this place, coming from somewhere I can’t see. Magic. That’s the most likely case.
I sit on the uncomfortable sheet that somehow seems to be a cross between paper and thin burlap. They didn’t even magic me into a pair of jeans. Right. I don’t own a fucking thing except for the panties I slept in, dirty black pants, and a uniform covered in hot dog porridge.
Just when I thought Academy of Six couldn’t get any worse, they prove me wrong.
And how very wrong I was.
It quickly becomes clear that a person can go mad here. As the hours tick by and I find no comfortable position for rest, my mind wanders. After so long staring at the blank walls, I start to feel like they’re closing in on me. Like I’m suffocating.
I force a shaking breath through my lungs and try to calm myself.
I’ve never feared small spaces, but this place is meant to torture, meant to drive fear in where none should be. Whether it’s by magic or my own overactive imagination, I can feel the madness slip in like wisps of slow curling dangerous smoke. Like shadows reaching for feet in the dead of night. Like soft laughter that slowly builds into a crescendo of hysteria until I’m consumed entirely.
That’s what this room does to me. It sucks me in until I fall into the darkness of my own nightmares. Sleep brings no reprieve. Not here. Those sweet dreams I had before don’t exist in me at all now.
There are shadows and creatures so terrible, I can hardly stand to look at their faces.
In my sleep I flinch away from things I can feel more than I can see. I’m aware that it’s nothing more than a magical induced nightmare, and yet, I can’t escape it.
It’s all too much.
The hot tears come after the sobs.
And then it’s his voice that slices through it all.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of shadow illusions? A little dark magic?”
In the dream, my damp lashes slowly lift and there he is. Emerald eyes that look bored as he dusts away crawling shadows like he would a cobweb from his wide shoulders.
The darkness disperses at his arrival. Like it’s terrified of him and his power. Like I should be terrified.
Why is it I only feel relief?
“Phoenix?” His name comes out like the exhale of a shuddering and painful breath.
“Was I wrong to assume you were made of tougher stuff than this?” He gestures at my crumpled form.
I’m crouched on the ground, a vast black emptiness surrounds us, but I feel cool solid ground beneath me.
His words strike embarrassment through me so I kneel on trembling knees.
Even if he’s only here to mock me, I’m glad for his presence, glad he chased the monsters away.
“Why are you here?” Relief unfurls inside me when my voice comes out steadily.
His eyes flick over me. In the darkness they seem too bright, almost ethereal like a faerie’s, as alluring as they are dangerous.
Something about him in this dream seems different. Like his whole body is transformed. Like he’s torn away some type of veil to reveal all of his tempting glory. It’s not just his body that exudes the thrilling promise of adventure, but the curl of his mouth entices overwhelming desires.
It all feels too real.
A slow burst of wetness between my thighs betrays everything I’ve felt for him previously. I want him, and the way his nostrils flare as he takes me in lets me know he knows.
He takes a prowling step forward, and though I’m sure ten feet separate us, the one step brings him in front of me.
He’s standing tall in what was a tiny cage of a cell. It’s like this isn’t my dream at all, it’s his, and he controls what’s real and what’s not.
My tongue feels leaden in my throat as I swallow back the jolt that threatens to slice through every nerve ending simply from his closeness. His proximity is dangerous, and I’m an idiot for wanting it. My body is so treacherous, it curls against him the moment he’s close.
“Your cries of terror called to me,” he whispers darkly.
Fuck me.
Please.
Why do those thoughts flitter through my mind?
Oh yeah, because he’s an incubus. What had Mr. Toad said about his kind? They thrive off of sex like demons do off chaos. I want to believe I’m strong enough to resist him, but the air in this dream is heady with desire and I feel gloriously drunk on every inch of it.
His hand skims to my lower back and travels against every strand of my long hair. It’s like my hair has nerve endings, because I feel the touch of each strand spiral to my core.
His touch has this magnetic ability to change the way I feel about him. That fiery touch makes me want him on the most primal level.
Slowly, he grips a fistful of hair and wraps it around his hand. Once. Twice. Three times until he’s near my scalp and pulling at my head so I tilt up to look into those dark, deadly eyes.
My palms fall flat against his chest. His incredibly bare chest.
I still in his arms as I realize how very, very naked he suddenly is.
My dreams don’t normally progress this fast, but I’m not complaining either.
My palms are seared with every ridge and perfect contour of muscle as they rub up and down.
“I wanted to chase them away.”
What’s he talking about? My nightmares, right.
; I’ve lost all ability to think in the haziness of my dream that’s becoming clearer and clearer the more he leans into me. He’s closer to me, his lips hovering a dangerous whisper away.
All I want him to do is close that space between us.
His tongue darts out, slowly slipping against my bottom lip. The wet warmth of that slight touch shudders through me. It burns away all resolve I might have had.
I don’t stop to remember who he is. A criminal. A demon. But so am I. Even worse than a demon, I don’t know what the fuck I am.
He makes me forget that. I make myself forget as I press my lips fully to his.
But why would I have doubts?
This is a dream after all. The best dream I’ve ever had.
And the moment our mouths touch, it’s like a barrier between us crumbles. Like dreams cascade into a blurred pool of reality. I want this to be real.
Is this real?
He lets out a low growl that vibrates through my chest. We devour each other wholly, completely. Our tongues push back and forth. His mouth pressures my own with punishing force. It’s like he wants this as much as I do and he fucking hates me for it.
My nails sink into the hard barrier of his skin, and I feel the slow trickling of blood at my fingertips.
The action sets him into violent motion. He releases my hair and slides his calloused hands down the length of my back until he’s cupping my ass. I gasp into him as he lifts me up.
It’s almost natural to wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.
He whirls and my back meets hard surface. The friction of me sliding up slick panes, of the warmth of his body pressing me against a cold wall, is fucking pure sensuality.
I grip his shoulders for support as his hips grind into mine. The hard thickness of his dick thrusts against the lace of my panties.
And it’s suddenly all I can think about.
I want to take a peek. Seriously, he can’t magically show up naked and not expect me to be curious.
I tear away from his mouth to look between us.
Holy.
Mother.
Of.
God.
Dream me is setting the bar incredibly high for reality Phoenix.
