“Yeah.” I agreed, but instead of thinking of the dropping bodies of Team C, I thought of the inhuman screams of my siblings as they were eaten alive.
Strangely enough, I felt dejected. All of my men were busy with other things; I was all alone in my room with no one to play with.
I should have been happy. A sensible and smart person would be relieved that the people most likely to uncover her secret were distracted with other things.
I had never been a smart or sensible person.
I had never been a person, full stop.
I'd kept the phone that I had stolen a few days ago to call Dirk. The data was spotty at best, but I settled myself into a comfortable position and removed my trousers. If I didn’t have enough bandwidth to stream porn, I’d have to settle for sexy GIFs. Anything to relieve the frantic energy in my chest that demanded I run away.
If I left Frankie's body behind, it would die, but I would live.
Davenport would be so disappointed in me. I didn’t want to leave Remi. I liked Remi. Plus, Dirk would probably see it as a breach of contract and add another decade to my sentence.
I shook my head and growled. I didn’t want to admit that I liked being around the Hunters. I hadn’t been part of a collective in so long, I had missed it.
Do the job and go. My rational mind whispered. Don’t give them a chance to find out your true heritage. Find the killer. Find the monster they summoned. Then leave. Don’t pass go. Don’t collect $200.
And suddenly, I wasn’t horny anymore.
I threw the phone onto the bed, it bounced once and fell to the floor.
What was wrong with me?
I pulled the comforter up to my neck and closed my eyes. Sleep found me quickly.
I no longer wore Frankie's body. I stood, proud, skin the color of black pearls, as smoke rose and curled on the air around me. I hovered as no part of my body touched the ground.
Red sands undulated in a phantom wind that told me that my brethren were nearby.
It was a dream. I stood in the City of Dis alone.
The hustle and bustle of the market was absent. The only movement was the flapping fabric of the stained canvas storefronts. It had been so long since I had allowed myself to visualize Hell's capital city.
My form was different in the Human Realities. There, I was dust and smoke. In Hell, I had a body, though made of darkness that could never be touched.
Mara. A simple name.
I had never seen my own face.
He stood at the end of the promenade. Golden skin and floppy blonde hair. Shining blue eyes, the color of ice. A regal bearing, with an apologetic hunch to his form. His gaze darted around furtively as if he didn’t want to be seen.
What was Hugo Sinclair doing in Hell?
Though he was a Demon, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.
It was my dream, so I was unafraid as I drifted forward. My hand outstretched, as midnight steam rose into the air around it. In a second, I hovered in front of Hugo. Face dipped close as I studied him. My entire body moved like I was underwater.
Hugo's eyes hooded, and his stature changed.
“Who are you?” He murmured in awe.
I said nothing but drifted closer.
“Are you a dream?” He asked.
In the safety of my subconscious, I was able to reach forward and touch the side of the Incubus’s face. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into my palm. His skin was soft. Hot.
My smoke drifted over his lips like a flower petal; he inhaled sharply. Gone was the shy hidden dream Adonis; in his place was an unsure man. His hands shook as he reached forward. The tips of his fingers brushed against my smoke.
“I can't hurt you here.” He nodded to himself.
I gave him a brilliant smile.
Hugo reached forward. I squeaked in shock, finding myself slamming into a physical form that he could touch. His lips crashed down on mine, swallowed any sounds. His hands gripped my now-solid biceps.
Hugo Sinclair was a fantastic kisser. He held me still with his incredible grip as he plundered my mouth. A dam broke, and the cautious and shy Hugo disappeared to make way for the hungry demon.
His magic licked up my spine, like a phantom tongue. Feather-light touches brushed the insides of my thighs. A promise. I wanted to be so full of Hugo Sinclair that I could not breathe, move, or talk without feeling him inside me.
I broke free, with a sigh and a swoon.
“What’s your name?” He whispered. “I want to—”
I never heard the rest of his sentence. I never told him my name.
The next morning, in the Mess Hall, I looked decidedly well-rested, despite my sexually frustrating PG-13 erotic dream.
I had wanted to lock myself in Frankie's room and take full advantage of having a body. Instead, I had the female equivalent of blue balls. Clam Jam? Blue Bean?
I wanted to get some petty and juvenile revenge on Remi for abandoning me to go into the City. I got a blue Gatorade from the vending machine and filled the contents with mouthwash. It looked virtually the same. I had noticed that Remi always had some sort of energy drink at meals. Maybe not at breakfast, but I was too impatient to wait until lunch.
Remi’s trashcan in the surveillance room had been full of cans of Monster and Red Bull.
I got my breakfast, plain toast, which I slathered in hot sauce, and settled down on my usual table. It was not long before Remi and Hugo drifted in together, freshly showered from their instructor duties.
I hadn’t bothered turning up to my punishment since Hart and I had kissed. I figured that Davenport would write it off after I was poisoned—even if everyone else said that I hadn’t been.
Remi slid his tray onto the table; I pretended to take a deep slug of Gatorade. I silently offered him the open bottle before stuffing some toast into my mouth. Remi thanked me.
He had drunk almost half the bottle before he started to gag and dropped it. Splashing minty blue mouthwash over his white cotton t-shirt.
“Really? Frankie?” Remi spluttered. “What did I do to deserve this?”
Hugo cleared his throat. “Remi, you're the worst prankster in the compound. It looks like Frankie just gave you a taste of your own medicine.”
I quirked a brow and said nothing as I chewed. I hadn’t known about Remi's reputation for pranks, but if I thought about it, I should have guessed. He was always laughing.
I was more surprised that Hugo had spoken up for me. Our eyes met; something passed through us. A jolt. A recognition that I couldn’t put my finger on. He saw it too.
The dream.
Hugo's thumb brushed his lip, remembering our kiss. He dropped his gaze and started to fiddle with his silverware.
Had I somehow invaded his dream?
I was a Drude. Dreams and nightmares were my domain—and Incubi were known for being able to feed on sleeping women.
“Did you have a good night's sleep last night?” I asked Hugo as I pressed the tines of my fork against my plump bottom lip.
Hugo's ice blue eyes widened. “Yes.”
“Any good dreams?” I probed.
Remi snorted. “I dreamt my teeth fell out.”
“That means money worries.” Hugo supplied helpfully.
“I don't have to worry about that.” Remi smiled somewhat sadly. He reached over and stole my coffee, draining the cup with a sigh.
“So, Hugo? What did you dream about?” My attention flicked between Remi and his unusually subdued expression and Hugo's flushing face.