A bony hand with long, discolored nails that were in dire need of a manicure ran over my face. “If you fight, it only gets worse, little one.” His voice slithered over my skin, slimy and grotesque.
My hands instinctually went to my neck, and in my head I screamed Chase’s name, which only made the increasing pressure worse. Oh God. Was it possible to die in a dream? Because at this moment, I was sure I wouldn’t wake up again. I would die a terrible death in my head, never able to cry out, never to wake up.
“The longer you fight me, the more I enjoy it,” he hissed. His true form and Chase’s flickered before my eyes. I could feel him losing hold on the illusion he put inside my dream.
It occurred to me that he was in my head, screwing around in there and messing with my dreams, but it was so hard to break through the panic. My instincts wanted to resist, to continue to fight for a breath of air. But I couldn’t stop staring at his inhuman eyes and the souls that were trapped behind them.
This wasn’t my first rodeo with a demon, and somehow as my gaze was fastened on him, I realized that I wasn’t alone. All those souls he had stolen gave me the push I needed to break the enchantment he had me sedated in.
For all the lives he stole.
For Chase.
For my mom.
For Sierra.
I had it in me. It was there, just waiting to be tapped. I stopped thinking about the pain, about the lack of oxygen, and thought only of Chase. His stunning color-changing eyes. The curve of his sexy smirk. His dark and powerful strength.
Our bond was going to save me, time and time again. The sooner Hell realized that, the better.
Once I had a clear picture of him in my head, Alastair’s true form was substantial. His oily lips pulled back into a half leer. “I knew you had it in you.”
“Go screw yourself,” I spat, short breathed.
The sound of his laugh filled my head, rattling brain matter. “You were made for Hell. My son has served his purpose, and now you shall serve me.”
With my senses returned, I was pissed. “Yeah, about that. I’m not ready to see the fiery pits of Hell just yet.”
He was beginning to sound like a broken record. “How many more will get hurt? How many more will die, sweet Angel?”
“What do you want from me?” I croaked. Vile anger burned inside me. Showed what little he knew about me, I was most definitely not sweet.
One of his corpselike nails traced down the side of my flushed cheek, leaving a scratch in its wake. “I thought I made it clear, love.”
His endearments were making me sick. “Apparently I’m a little daft in my dreams. Spell it out for me in layman’s terms.”
“I. Want. You,” he said nice and slow, his eyes directly on mine.
I flinched. “Why? What could you possibly want with me? I don’t have any life-altering powers. I can’t walk on water.” In my head I knew this wasn’t real, nothing but a dream, but it didn’t change that he was on top of me. His form burned like the sun—too hot for the touch. I began to sweat.
“No. Those things would all be wasteful to me, but you are useful to me—very.”
“I’m in love with your son.”
His short laugh was haunting and tasted like an inferno on my face. “This has nothing to do with love. Something to chew on until next time.”
I twisted my head, trying to put more space between his disgusting lips and me. If the black tongue touched me, I was going to lose my shit. “No offense, but I am hoping there won’t be a next time.”
His face drew closer. “I can promise you,” he whispered in my ear. “If I don’t get what I want, you won’t like the consequences.” His voice began to trail off.
I awoke with fear lodged in my throat and covered in a cold sweet. Greedily, I gulped the fragrant smell of my room, and then…my door burst open.
Chase’s dark form was looming in the doorway. “I’m going to kill him.”
I sat up, blinking. “Could it wait until later?” I asked, rubbing my hand on my arms. “Right now I don’t want to be alone.” Or fall asleep for that matter. The idea of seeing the demon every time I closed my eyes gave me chest pains.
He was teetering on an invisible line between staying with me as I asked or ripping the higher-demon to shreds. That was if he could find him. I really hoped I won. “You had the dream, didn’t you?” he asked, shoving both hands into his hair.
“The one where you turn into Alastair? Boy did I ever.”
He zoomed to my side. “I told you he would appear sooner rather than later.”
I picked at a snag in my blanket, pulling at the thread. “Can we save the I-told-you-so until after I stop shaking?”
He captured my chin in his hand. “I’m not giving him what he wants.”
I stayed silent, because I wasn’t sure that I could live with myself if someone else was hurt or died because Alastair wanted me. It didn’t seem right. My soul had already been darkened when I had died. Who was to say that each death I indirectly caused wouldn’t blacken it to the point of no redemption.