Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Imogen

I was running through a forest.

I never questioned why I was here, only knowing somehow that it was the pine forest that was planted around the campgrounds Mike forced me to take him to. Pine needles crunched under my feet as I ran, the resinous smell filling my nose as I gasped for breath. They didn't get my attention, though.

He did.

A dark, lumbering shape in the shadows, his pace was slower, more methodical than mine. Yet somehow he was gaining on me. I knew that because his low chuckle slid across my skin, leaving a slimy residue. My head whipped around, my muscles burning as I put on more speed.

"Little bitch."

His curse was like a slap to my face, which had me racing on. I was trying to escape him and his venomous judgements, but dodging around trees and running until my body ached didn't help.

"Fucking slut."

That was almost whispered in my ear–he was that close–forcing me to whirl around to face him.

My hands went up, but to do what? He was a dark shape rather than a man in my dream–that's what this was, I realised. A bloody nightmare, because nothing I did mattered. Phil's features emerged as a stray bar of moonlight hit his face, revealing a mask of sadistic pleasure. My chest heaved, fighting to suck in a breath but my lungs never filled. Instead, my chest ached, my heart starting to beat erratically.

"No…" My protest was thin, weak, and he gave it all the consideration it deserved, pushing past that and walking close with the slow tread of a predator. "No. No, I?—"

"Got that soft life now, have you?" His eyebrow rose as his lips twisted in a vicious smile. "Left a good man for a nice room with pretty pillows."

When he lunged forward I stumbled back, the back of my ankle colliding with a tree root, but I recovered quickly. I held my fists up, all the while knowing it was a useless gesture. There was still a small distance between us, because by the sound of his laughter, he'd just been psyching me out.

"And how're you gonna pay for all this?" His teeth flashed in the dim light, turning from nicotine yellow into something else altogether. Sharp needles, it was like staring into the maw of a great white shark. "One in the pink, one in the stink, and one to keep your filthy little mouth shut, but for how long?"

I shook my head, slowly backing away, knowing I didn't want to hear this.

"How long until they get sick of you? That pussy." His eyes slid down my body. "That drooling hole between your legs is never gonna keep boys like that happy. It didn't keep Mike from fucking around, did it?"

I was pretty sure my ex wasn't faithful to me. All the times he went out, all the women that hung out with his friends who wouldn't know the girl code if it reached across to slap them in the face, his complete lack of self-control, but I stayed. I stayed because I didn't have firm evidence.

"You let those cunts inside you, you'll be out before the night is done, kicked to the curb." My hands formed fists. "You couldn't keep one man. What makes you think you can keep three?" His smile got wider and wider, turning into something completely inhuman. "And that's when I'll find you. No one to protect you, then I'll be able to do all the things I've been dreaming of."

That unfocussed look, those wide open eyes were a window into a place I did not want to go. Unimaginable horrors played out inside his head, but a little whimper from me had his head snapping up. Why think about it when I was right here? Right there for the taking, and that's what he went to do just now.

I knew the way his touch would feel before he managed to grab my arm. Burning hot, searing me down to the bone, his fingers gripped me despite my attempt to escape him. I threw myself back with everything I had, but every bone jolted as his hand snapped down, his fingers finding the bruises he'd left on me with jarring accuracy.

"No!"

My throat worked, my lungs expelling the word out, but just like before, I didn't expect anyone to hear. I was alone in this dark fucking forest, not even the sound of Mike and his buddies partying could be heard to let me know there was someone around. Instead, I was alone, completely alone, trying to face down an enemy I'd never be able to escape.

"No…" Tears filled my throat, threatening to choke me, right as he dragged me closer, those needle-like teeth flashing. "No?—"

I didn't get a chance to plead or beg, because there were other things in the forest. Birds, wallabies, even feral foxes.

And a fucking bear.

The sound of his roar was the only warning we got, reverberating throughout the entire forest. Birds threw themselves into the air, flapping wildly, while Phil just stared. His mouth went slack, his expression almost comical until my saviour arrived.

Did bears charge with all the might of a Mack truck in reality? I'd never know because they didn't live in the Australian bush, but I did know that this one did. Not bushes, not trees would stop him as he came rampaging through the forest towards us. His white fur shone like the moon.

And so did his fangs.

This is how I die , my dream self thought, but I needn't have worried. I was not the massive polar bear's prey. Phil was. I caught the moment when my attacker's eyes went wide, the shape of the bear reflected there, right before it attacked.

Screams, a body whipped back and forth with a violence unmatched, then a sickening snap had what remained of Phil going so very still. The bear deposited the body before him, then reared up on his hind paws, roaring his victory. My heart beat frantically, telling me that this was dangerous, that I needed to get the fuck out of here, but I didn't.

Instead, I walked closer.

Because I'd never seen a polar bear in real life, I thought. Because he saved me. Because he was majestic, picking up the body and shaking his head again, as if to reassure himself and me that Phil was dead, before dropping it again. When I got closer, rather than seeing dark-brown eyes, I saw blue.

Familiar blue eyes.

With the logic of dreams, the bear melted away, revealing the man within. Asher stood before me in a familiar pose. Arms held slightly out from his body, every ab starkly defined as he sucked in one breath then another.

"Imogen…"

This time he said my name, and that had me moving closer. I ran now, not away from him, but towards the man who saved me.

I'd wanted to touch him back in the gym. I'd wanted to lay my hands all over the splendid, beautiful body of the man who picked up Phil like he was a doll and tossed him across the car park. Part of me wanted to just because Asher's chest was a perfect picture of masculine strength and the other part felt he was like a fire that I could stand before, driving out the chill that seemed to have sunk into my bones. And part of me wanted to just because I knew it'd feel so damn good and it'd been way too long since I'd done something that selfish. In the safety of my dream, I could do just that, my hands landing on his pecs.

"Imogen…" I wanted him to keep saying my name like that, as if it was a prayer, an imprecation. "Imogen…"

But what we had to say to each other went beyond words. My hand whipped up and, for just a second, I gloried in the feel of his hair as I raked my fingers through it. Not for long. I tugged his head down and he came, which shocked me. No, more than that, because a man like this would never be content to take a passive role. His hands went around my waist as he jerked me against him.

"Imogen, I need?—"

"I know."

Just like with Lucas, the kiss started gentle, just a little mingling of our panting breaths before we brushed against each other. Not enough, I felt that in the depths of my soul. He let out a terrible groan, like he needed me more than his next breath, no, like I was the air he needed to breathe. His grip tightened, that was the only warning I got, right before his mouth crashed down on mine.

I wasn't in the forest anymore. I was right back in my bed in their headquarters and he was pressing me down into the soft mattress.

"Imogen."

He sighed my name now as his mouth moved, tracing the slope of my neck, lingering when I shivered as he pressed his lips against the pulse point.

"Asher…"

"Imogen, you need?—"

"This," I assured him, kissing him harder, faster.

He took my lead, kissing me back with teeth and tongue. Every part of me throbbed now, but not with pain and fear. With need, desire. Sexual attraction was like an old friend I hadn't seen in so long I was afraid I never would again, and I welcomed it home with open arms, dragging it, and him, closer. When he settled between my legs, when I felt my joints strain to accommodate his size, then something long and hard pressed right where I needed.

"This…" I hissed, right as his hips began to rock.

He was giving me everything I needed, because that was the nature of dream lovers. They had an insight into what you wanted that no man could ever match. So he knew that his frantic rocking was driving me higher and higher, even as the blunt feeling grew more and more unsatisfactory.

"Asher—"

"I know."

He rose above me, staring down with eyes of burning ice blue. They stared at me, saw me in a way I wondered if anyone ever had. That hurt my heart, that only in my dreams could I get the attention I craved. But then his hands moved, pulling my clothes off until we were both bare.

I stopped him with a hand as he reared above me, my eyes soaking in the sight of him. So big, so splendidly strong, I wanted to sear the memory of this into my brain and that made me aware I was beginning to wake up. I needed too much, wanted too much to stay deeply asleep. This became a race then, my hand tracing a line down his chest, just like I had in the gym, but this time I went for it. My hand slid down to his achingly hard cock, struggling to close my fingers around his shaft.

"Fuck…"

I decided then I only wanted to have sex with men who cursed like that, that threw their head back, their entire body focussed on what I was doing to them. Men who felt a fine tremor rock all the way through them, right as they thrust into my hand. We worked together for just a few strokes, finding a rhythm, but not for long. He pulled away with a curse, and for just a moment I worried I'd upset my dream lover. A few pulses from his dry firing dick made clear why. Then his hand shot out, grabbing my arms by the wrist to stop me from reaching for him, and right as he placed them above my head, his mouth came down.

Mike liked my tits. Apparently it was the thing that drew him to me in the first place, but you'd never know that when he got his hands on them. He used to maul them, as if somehow my softness offended him or something. Dream Asher couldn't have been more different. His lips landed on my nipple, gentle as a kiss, right before his tongue flicked out to trace the aching point. Waiting until the skin around it crinkled, then his mouth descended. Sucking me in with long, slow swallows that forced firework bursts of pleasure to explode through my body, and I fought his grip.

I wanted to caress his head, rake my fingers through his hair and tell him how good he was making me feel, but right as my mouth moved, I felt them. Two long fangs, they dimpled the skin, pressing down but not breaking it as he sucked. I squirmed, because he was making me feel so good, but also because I needed to know. And my dream lover was perfect as ever, pulling free and staring at me, open mouthed.

Fangs like an animal, no–Asher had fangs like a bear where we would have our canines. He withstood my inspection, wary as a wild animal. His grip on my hands loosened, letting me go free, a silent question in his eyes. Because this was a dream, my hands went to his jaw, tracing the severe slope of his cheeks, feeling the stubble there.

All details that made this so very real.

But those fangs? I pressed a finger to one and he tolerated that, watching me warily up until the point I pulled it back.

"Imogen—"

"Yes," I told my dream, my perfect lover. "Yes."

A man with the fangs of an animal was nothing to me, not when human men had treated me worse than you would a dog. He'd saved me, and right now I wanted to celebrate that in the way I would've if the psychologist hadn't walked in the door. I threw him down on the bed and then straddled his hips, all sounds of protest cut off as soon as my cunt landed on his cock. Instead a low hiss, the way his whole body stiffened made clear how he felt.

"Fuck me, Asher," I commanded, far bolder than I'd ever dare to be outside a dream. "Fuck me, Asher, and make me forget."