7. Scarlett

CHAPTER 7

SCARLETT

"Scream again. I liked it," the creature in the shadows says.

My entire body is trembling and my teeth chatter—because I'm freezing . My nipples bead and scrape painfully against the gauzy nightdress that had felt supple and soft a moment before.

I take a few steps backward as I attempt to put distance between me and the creature that has appeared in my room. The backs of my legs hit the mattress, and I fall onto it.

That's when I detect a splash of white on my left. I glance at it, then my eyes widen when I see myself asleep in my chair. My notebook teeters dangerously from my fingertips but doesn't fall. The leather strap seems to be hooked on my thumb.

A throb I hadn't noticed before settles on the same digit, and I rub it, realizing that I'm actually asleep.

Is this… a dream?

Because I've never had a dream like this. Not one where I feel like I've floated right outside of my body.

A rumbling growl steals my attention as the blood drains from my face. I glance back at the creature who is still there.

Except now he's stalking toward me.

"Sssscarlett," he says, slithering out the S in my name as if he can taste it.

Another scream builds and sticks in my throat as he reveals more of his form to me. I shouldn't be looking between his legs, but there's a massive cock dripping with liquid silver.

I feel the insane urge to lick it.

What's wrong with me?

"Mmm, you're pleased by what you see?" the beast asks, making me flick my gaze up to him again.

My nightmares are never like this. I usually feel like I'm drowning, like a thousand horrible memories are dragging me down into the darkness until I can't breathe.

My lungs refuse to cooperate, so that sensation is similar, but it's for an entirely different reason.

The creature is intimidating, but he hasn't tried to hurt me. Instead of doing anything threatening in nature, he's paused just out of reach.

And he's watching me as if waiting for me to respond.

And he knows my name.

Realization dawns on me when I look at his face instead of his monstrous cock.

His eyes are made up of shards of glass, reflecting my own face back at me.

What's odd is that I have the same kind of eyes.

This is definitely the strangest dream I've ever had.

And I feel far too lucid to be dreaming, but maybe the stress of signing a blood contract to become Earl Rinhold's future wife has sent me careening off the deep end.

Or maybe it's the magic from the blood contract doing this.

I know how blood contracts work. Elite families who want an agreement to be magically binding use a monster's blood to do so.

And, apparently, that seems to be having an effect on me.

Swallowing the scream instead of releasing it, I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth and attempt a reply. "Um, it's… large," I say with an awkward smile. Because he'd just asked me if I liked what I saw—and I assumed he meant the very large cock I'd been staring at.

My answer makes him chuckle.

Even though I'd been staring, it's not because I haven't seen male genitalia before. Even if I am still technically a virgin, I know what it looks like.

Well, maybe not this figment's particular appendage, but in general.

What liaisons I've had in the past were brief and rushed. Like most Ladies, I'm often trailed by a chaperone if I venture out on an engagement of any sort.

And in my case, that chaperone has often been my brother.

He's never cared about my purity. In fact, he would use me to gain blackmail over other Earls and possible enemies.

Or even allies, with the intention of turning on them.

Even if I found someone I was interested in, the act could never go too far. It would ruin any potential marriage if I really lost my virginity. It had to go just far enough to be scandalous, then my brother would have blackmail over both the target and me.

Whore.

Slut.

You would just give it up for anyone if I let you, wouldn't you?

My cheeks burn with shame and anger as I recall those memories.

Because there were a few times I had found pleasure in those engagements. They weren't forced. I was a poor actress and incredibly bored.

Spoiled brat.

Teasing my beaux of the moment sounded like fun, at the time. But now I realize how young and stupid I had been to let my brother use me that way.

The beast is watching me and a soft, rumbling growl has grown in his chest. The vibrations of it seem to disturb the shadows that usually accompany my nightmares, but it's making them shrivel and curl away instead of grow like they normally do.

His muscles bunch and flex, rippling in a fascinating way that betrays raw anger.

What I'd been thinking about had displeased him.

"Can you see my memories?" I ask the nightmare creature.

Of course he can. He's a figment of my imagination.

"Yes," he growls, then flexes his jaw. "Can you see mine?"

That makes me laugh, and I immediately cover my hand with my mouth.

"What memories might you have, figment?" I ask as I trail my fingers over my lips, because that's all he is.

He grins as if the name amuses him. "Figment, am I? Well, that's all I can be, isn't it?" His tongue flicks out as if to taste the air. I gasp at the sharpened teeth that look like they can tear right through flesh. "Would you like to know more about me?"

A strange question from a figment, but I discover that the answer is "Yes."

He waves his arms wide. "Ask me anything."

"Is this real?" I wonder.

"No," he confirms, both satisfying and disappointing me. "It can't be real."

No, it can't, can it? Which was possibly a good thing. Even if my courtship hasn't officially begun, I wouldn't risk the exclusive stipulation.

I'm not allowed to specifically have intercourse with anyone else, and neither is the Earl. The Blood Contract would automatically dissolve if that happened.

Not that I've ever had intercourse. I've never been in a position where that would have been possible. My brother kept me pure in that sense, probably hoping to save that virtue to sell to the highest bidder.

Now that I'm in a blood courtship, it gives me a sense of pleasure to know my brother won't get to take that commodity. It's mine to give, or not.

Just because I'm in a blood courtship doesn't completely tie my hands, though. Scandal has always run rampant of those in a blood courtship finding other creative ways to pass the time.

My gaze drops. Not that I have to worry about intercourse, because there's no way that will fit.

His eyes glitter when he adds, "But it can feel real." His broken gaze sweeps over me, seeming to appreciate what he sees. "Do I frighten you?"

"Yes," I admit. Even if he's a figment of my imagination, I'm well aware of what my nightmares are capable of.

But this? This is new.

Maybe my mind is going to have some mercy on me.

I take my time to inspect him now that I know all of this is my own doing.

He's frighteningly tall, and his head is bowed to avoid hitting the chandelier. His skin is dark, but mostly because it seems saturated by the same shadows I often see in my nightmares.

Almost as if he's eaten them.

His face is beautiful with those broken mirror–like eyes. His cheekbones are sharp, and the quality of them reminds me of Cain's portrait in the drawing room.

My mind has a funny way of painting a nightmare.

Cain was the last entity I tried to call out to for help. It makes sense that my mind would justify those feelings of needed security by fashioning this creature after him.

The massive thing between his legs, though, seems unusual.

As does the silver dripping from it. The urge to taste that substance has my heart stuttering in my chest.

Maybe my brother is right about me.

I'm a ? —

A blur of strength and danger silences my thought before I can finish it. The creature moves faster than I would have given him credit for, rushing over me until I'm flattened against the bed and he's above me. He's enormous, but his face is level with mine as his claws sink into the mattress on either side of my head. Just one palm could crush me if he wanted. "You are no whore, little star. You are mine ."

A whimper escapes me, but it's not one of fear.

It's one of need .

His claim awakens something inside of me. The figment seems to see the mixture of my desperation and my desire. The ache rolling through my body makes me squirm underneath him as I squeeze my eyes shut, then force them open again.

He watches me as if debating something. Then he leans in and sniffs my neck, and for some reason, the gesture seems strangely intimate.

He growls .

My thoughts become a jumbled mess when the beast takes one massive claw and scrapes it down my body, instantly shredding my nightdress and revealing me to him. He was careful enough not to scratch me, minus one stinging spot just above my navel.

He growls again, but this time it's a possessive sound. "You hunger, little one. Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you desire."

I don't know what he means, but it sounds right.

He watches me with those mirrorlike eyes until I finally nod.

"I need your verbal agreement," he insists. He lowers himself until his face is close enough to mine that I can feel his heated breath. His tongue flicks across my lower lip, branding me with his power.

He certainly feels real, for a figment.

I don't know what kind of magic has made my dreams so vivid, but I'm going to take full advantage of it.

Because this might be the only pleasure I'll ever find in my life. I highly doubt a successful union with Earl Rinhold will result in any sort of empowering desire. He seems like the type of male to take what he wants without caring for anyone else's needs.

"I want you to take care of me," I tell the beast.

My words seem to greatly please him, because his lips stretch into a wide, wicked grin.

It's a terrifying sight full of teeth and danger, and I'm probably insane for reaching out to touch his face.

He lets me explore his surprisingly soft skin. It's cool to the touch, but not unpleasant. I brush my fingers through his hair, finding that incredibly soft as well.

He nuzzles into my touch before he lowers, and his tongue flicks over my chest, making me suck in a breath. He tastes my skin, taking his time rolling his tongue around one nipple, then attends to the next.

"God…" I breathe, only to earn a chuckle from the beast tasting me like a snack.

"Call me Cain," he says, flicking his mirrorlike gaze up to mine.

Of course my figment would call itself Cain. That's probably the most insane thing I could possibly imagine.

Sex with the King of the Elite City, a monster who pretends to be a God.

A beast who eats dreams.

Could he be…?

The question flings right out of my head when Figment-Cain dips his tongue into my belly button, lapping up the droplet of blood that had fallen into it.

Then he proceeds to taste me lower.

He's just above my throbbing core when he glances up once more.

I wonder if he's going to ask me for permission again, but he already has it.

Instead, he intentionally keeps my gaze as he buries his tongue in my folds, making me bow off the bed.

He takes one hand, which is bigger than my entire abdomen, and slams me back down.

"Stay," he says against my sex, making me tremble as I whimper something unintelligible.

Because I've never felt anything like this. I've been touched before, very briefly over layers of clothing, but this beast's thick tongue covers the entirety of my aching flesh.

He rolls his tongue over me, giving me wet, delicious friction as I find myself spreading my legs for him.

Whore.

Slut.

My brother's words snap at me like a whip, and I try to close my legs to prove him wrong, but the beast between them won't let me go.

Not now that he's tasted me.

He growls as if irritated that I'm not accepting his pleasure without shame. He removes his tongue and stands, towering over me.

Fear jolts through my body.

Or is that pleasure?

His massive cock is between my legs now, but his shaft is pressing against my throbbing core. More of that silver liquid seeps over the bulbous tip, dripping down until the icy sensation coats my intimate flesh.

"I won't take your virginity, not until you're ready," he assures me, but he's moving his hips, rubbing the silky hardness of himself against me.

How does he know I'm a virgin?

Dream figment—right.

His cock feels different than his tongue did, but the sensation is just as incredible.

"I am going to make you come regardless," he informs me as if that's nonnegotiable.

I whimper as he pushes one of his knees onto the bed, propping my leg up on his thigh. It exposes me more to him, spreading me wide open as he continues to gyrate his hips and graze his massive cock over my clit.

The sensation is deliciously overwhelming, and my eyes roll as pleasure blooms between my legs, forcing out any distracting memories of my brother.

"That's a good girl," my figment praises. "Let me take care of you."

I sink my fingers into the sheets and fist them as his cock slides over me, but that's just the base. The rest of it rolls over my abdomen, and the head reaches just beneath my breasts.

And he's smearing that silver fluid all over my body in the process.

He continues to thrust, and I find myself wondering if his cock would even fit inside me. The base of it is rubbing over my clit, leaving his balls to erotically slap against me, all of it pushing me toward an edge that might make me go mad.

I see why he's inched his leg under mine now. He curls me, forcing his shaft to ride higher as he cups my breasts and pushes his dick between them.

The sight of that silver liquid spilling over my breasts makes my body go hot.

It's not just liquid.

It's his cum.

I stick my tongue out, acting on instinct, which makes my figment curse.

"Don't tease, little one, or I'll?—"

I inch down, which removes the delicious pressure from my clit but brings me close enough to run my tongue over his weeping slit.

The flavor of peaches and cream isn't what I expected when I tasted this figment's cum—but it's my dream. Why can't cum taste like a dessert?

Hungry for more, I lick again, earning a warning growl from the beast.

An insane part of me likes to taunt him, to test these boundaries I've created in my mind.

Maybe he'll turn on me and devour me.

Maybe not.

All I know is that I want more .

I slip down and grab his cock with both hands, then try to fit it into my mouth.

It's almost too large, but I manage it. He groans as more of that delicious peaches-and-cream mixture spills down my throat. It keeps going until I can't swallow any more and I cough on it, making it run down my cheeks and onto my chest.

"Wicked little nightmare," he says, but it sounds more like a compliment than an insult. "I should have made you come first, but now I'm going to make you come on my face ."

I yelp as he scoops an arm around my back, then yanks me up with him. He flips onto the bed, then easily uses both hands to lift me onto his face.

I reach out for something to hold on to and find the headboard. I grip it as he runs his tongue over my throbbing core.

"You taste like peaches soaked in wine," he says, which takes me out of the moment.

That's almost what he had tasted like to me—which makes sense. This is a dream. I'm just reflecting what I want in him.

Still, when he pushes his massive tongue just into my entrance, I suck in a breath.

He doesn't go further, even though I want him to.

He said he wasn't going to take my virginity.

It's just a dream. What does that matter?

I push my hips down, demanding more of the delicious sensations that make my entrance spread and burn, but he wraps his fingers around my hips and stops me.

He holds me still as I grapple against his fingers, but he doesn't give me a chance to protest. His tongue laves me, pushing at my entrance while simultaneously stimulating my clit.

It's enough to force me over the edge.

"Cain!" I scream, not sure why I use the name he gave me.

When I know this isn't real.

The climax that shatters through me doesn't care what's real and what's not. My entire body bends to the pleasure, my spine arching as I throw back my head and let the ecstasy rule.

A crash causes me to fall, and then everything shatters like glass. Pain shoots through me, making the pleasure seem like a distant dream as I slam back into my body.

Groaning, I find my body still fully clothed, and my thumb has turned blue where my notebook's leather rope had been hooked on it.

The notebook that is now on the ground, the impact of it falling having woken me up from my nightmare.

If that was a nightmare, I want to fall back asleep right now.

Carefully, I wobble out of my chair and wince at a sting of pain that makes my dress stick to my stomach. I pull up the hem, then stare at the blotch of blood just above my navel.

There's nothing that could have cut me. But the blood is there and so is the stain on the inside of my nightgown. I fumble with the silk and stretch it out, staring at it as I blink a few times while trying to decide if this is real.

It was just a dream, I tell myself, even though I can't explain the cut.

Maybe it's a strange side effect of the blood contract.

I can't entertain the idea that it was something more—something real.

Because that would mean I've attracted the attention of a monster.

Of the King of the Elite City.

Cain doesn't care about me.

No one does.

I let my dress drape back over me as I shuffle into bed.

The sheets are fluffy and undisturbed, but I can't help feeling like I'm crawling into it for the second time tonight.

It doesn't much matter, because I'll be up in a few short hours, facing a real nightmare.

The one where I become a Lady of the Rinhold family.

And that's a nightmare I won't be able to wake up from.