Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

HELLO, NIGHTMARE

How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads, to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.

Bram Stoker

A cobblestone walkway was cold and rough under my bare feet as a sea breeze tangled through my hair. I swallowed and felt something tight around my ribs. A corset perched above a billowing skirt. I was on some sort of boat dock. I startled when gulls squawked overhead. This was a nice break from the pumpkin maze. I did love being by the water, if only in a dream. I could feel the muggy salt breeze on my skin. Were everyone's dreams this real?

Or maybe…

I wandered down the path, wondering why he never gave me shoes—wondering how it was possible that I stepped on a pebble and it pricked my heel. This town was quaint and smelled like ocean brine. Two men stumbled out of a pub, tipping their hats at me as I went inside the bustling establishment. My feet stuck to the floor, feeling the spilled beer and cigar ash between my toes as I shimmied onto a barstool, already annoyed at the surplus of fabric strapped against my body. This was different, he'd never brought me here before. Or maybe I'd gotten lost, what if he didn't come? My heart sank.

"Water for the lady?" a bartender asked, drying a pint glass. "I'm George, by the way."

"Sure—"

"I don't want no trouble!"

I startled as he shouted, looking over my shoulder. "We're the only place on the eastern seaboard that even still serves your kind—don't blow it, pirate ."

The aroma of moss and rum enveloped me as he took his seat next to me, tipping his black pirate's hat. "Evening, Lilac."

My palms were slick against the countertop, and I dried them on my skirt, trying to compose my thoughts, to ease the flutter of emotions that bubbled in my chest. "Hello, Nightmare ."

The bartender glared before sliding me a cup of water and busying himself pouring my companion a beer. Then it felt like a dream, as I looked at him, I knew it was impossible anyone in real life could be as stunning as he was. With jet black, slicked back hair, sharp jawline, and piercing violet stare—he didn't exist—couldn't truly exist. My throat tightened.

"None of that," he admonished. "And no dates with shop clerks either."

I narrowed my gaze. "How did you know about that?"

He ran a lazy finger over the lid of his glass. "You're all he thinks about. He imagines you in your ripped jeans and that pink top. Cliché, if you ask me, I much prefer this darling little number."

"This corset hurts," I answered, hiding my grin.

"Good."

My cheeks flushed, and my eyes dropped to his full lips. "You look nice as a pirate," I whispered.

"I do, don't I? Thought the leather vest was quite dashing, myself." He downed his beer with a few chugs before grabbing my barstool and pulling it closer. I gasped, feeling my body press to his. My mind worried about the bartender, who watched on with judgment.

"Tell me what troubles you, oh, sleeper." His lips lightly grazed mine, stealing my breath, sending jolts of passion through my body, crashing into my core like waves on the nearby beach.

My words caught in my throat. "You—you know what."

He growled against my neck, giving it a bite that stung and nearly broke the skin. "Not this you aren't real nonsense again."

"None of this… it's all too good. I know I'll wake up?—"

Swirls of violet, mirroring the shade of his deep stare swirled around us as he picked me up and put me on the bar counter. He separated my legs with his wide body and grabbed my chin. "Stop worrying, Lilac. Feel me, enjoy me."

He pulled up my skirt before placing his pirate hat on my head and disappearing under my dress. I moaned at the feel of his mouth on my center, looking around the bar, but we were shrouded in smoke, and no one paid us any mind. "Such anxiety plagues you, oh, sleeper. Can't you not even be free in your dreams?"

His tongue swept against my clit, making me groan at the wet feel of him. "God, you feel so real."

"And you taste like the finest of wines," he murmured against my center. "Perhaps the seaside vexes you," he mused, pushing me to the top of my release. "Tomorrow, I shall find us a better spot."

My moan was silenced by screams, as shots rang out. My body tightened and fluttered against the aftershocks of my orgasm as my lover stood, planting a slick kiss on my lips. The bartender pulled out a shotgun, firing at the doorway as patrons screamed. My nightmare's violet eyes lingered for a moment on mine, as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. "I must go."

Chairs clattered to the ground as the shrieking persisted. The nightmare portion of the dream was here, the scary parts, the frightening end.

He made to pull back, but I grabbed onto his vest, and he stopped, just as I felt myself slipping away. "Let me stay with you?"

I'd never asked that before.

Something flashed across his stare, and his jaw hardened. With a sigh, he planted a small kiss on my cheek and whispered. "Away with you."