7

Pain shot through me, but it only heightened the sensation, twisted it into something I craved.

Her breath was everywhere, cold and suffocating.

My body arched involuntarily, giving in to her.

I felt her lips on my chest, her nails scraping down my sides, drawing thin lines of blood.

And then—something changed.

Her face, once alluring, twisted into something more monstrous.

Her eyes darkened, her smile warping into something predatory.

But by then, it was too late.

She bit down, her teeth sinking into my flesh.

A scream ripped from my throat, but it was swallowed by the darkness surrounding us.

My body jerked in agony, but the pain only fueled the desire.

It was an endless cycle—pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain.

I was lost, trapped in her web.

When I woke, I was drenched in sweat, gasping for breath.

The room was dark, the shadows more oppressive than before.

My body ached, my skin stinging with the lingering sensation of her touch.

I sat up, heart pounding, and that’s when I noticed it.

Scratches.

Thin, red lines crisscrossed my chest, my arms, my sides—marks left by her.

My mind reeled, struggling to process what had happened.

I looked around, but the room was empty.

It had to be a dream.

It had to be.

But as I ran my fingers over the marks, a sickening realization crept in.

She had been here.

Her presence still lingered, hanging thick in the air like smoke.

And despite the fear curling inside me, there was something else.

I wanted more.

Nina had done something to me—awakened something.

Even now, I couldn’t shake the memory of her touch, the twisted pleasure that had coursed through me.

It was wrong.

I knew that.

But the desire, the craving for her, gnawed at me.

She had left her mark on me, in more ways than one.

And I wasn’t sure I could ever escape her.

4

NINA

I watched him from the shadows, my presence wrapping around him like a lover’s embrace.

Elias, the investigator who thought he could uncover my secrets.

His mind was a web of curiosity and fear, a delicious blend that only heightened my desire to draw him closer.

I had watched him toil for hours, his handsome face etched with frustration as he scribbled notes about me, about my asylum—my prison and my playground.

He was handsome, with sharp features and an intensity that made my heart race.

But beneath that exterior lay a vulnerability, a fear that thrummed beneath his skin.

I thrived on it, relished in the way he fought against my allure, the way he tried to convince himself I was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

But I was real.

Oh, so very real.

As he fell into a restless sleep, I made my move.

The dreamscape opened before us, and I took form, the glow of the asylum illuminating my path as I floated toward him.

He stood there, paralyzed, rooted to the ground like prey caught in the gaze of a predator.

I reveled in the power I held over him, the way his heart quickened as I approached.

My fingers grazed his cheek, and I felt the shiver that ran through him.

My touch was cold, a stark contrast to the fire igniting within him.

He wanted me.

I could see it in the way his breath hitched, the way his body responded to my presence.

I leaned in closer, whispering my claim over him, my words wrapping around him like chains.

“You’re mine.”

The thrill of possession surged through me as I pushed him back, reveling in the way he surrendered.

I straddled him, my weight pressing down as I locked my gaze onto his.

I could feel his pulse racing beneath me, the intoxicating blend of pleasure and fear radiating from him.

Every gasp, every shudder, fueled my hunger.

I was alive in this moment, feeding off his desperation, his need.

His moan echoed in the air, a sweet melody that spurred me on.

I traced my fingers down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my cold touch.

With each caress, I ignited a fire within him, a flame that flickered between ecstasy and dread.