“Who’s the girl, honey?” I asked Jae sweetly.
Jae flashed his teeth. “This is Melody.”
I blinked and looked up into the stranger's beautiful face. “Hello, Melody.”
Melody ignored me. “We’re about to head to the club. My friends over there made a bet that I couldn’t get you one of you three stunning men to join me.”
I snorted.
“No, thank you,” Jae said politely.
“We’re with someone.” Hugo murmured, unable to make eye contact.
“All three of you?” Melody's eyes finally met mine. My smile looked like a cat that had eaten the canary.
“All of them,” I said proudly. “Sometimes at the same time. Hurry along now.”
Melody looked mortified, and a tiny bit intrigued. She scurried away back to her table to friends, and only looked back once.
“All of us?” Jae asked.
“At the same time, apparently.” Hart smiled; he seemed to find my declaration amusing.
Chapter 17
Hugo's eyes were closed as he laid next to me on the bed, but I had no idea if he was asleep or not.
I was unable to sleep. The distance between our two bodies felt like a gulf. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but at the same time, I was scared.
Hugo Sinclair was my mate. My SoulBond.
The pressure to be with him was stifling. He wore a mark that declared our relationship was not a possibility, but a certainty.
My heartbeat roared in my ears. It was difficult to breathe.
A low moan drifted through the thin walls between our room and Jae and Hart's.
A low mumble, and a louder groan filled with pleasure. Jae and Callum must have been getting intimate. I squirmed, closing my eyes tightly, as the imagined visions of the two men, writhing, thrusting, and kissing, raced through my mind.
“Are you awake?” Hugo asked softly.
I looked up to find his ice-blue eyes on mine. His lips pulled into a timid smile. I found myself returning the expression, despite the turmoil boiling in my chest.
“What gave me away?” I quirked a brow, turning my upper body to face the incubus.
The sound of the bed frame knocking against the drywall drew Hugo's attention for a split second.
“Does that bother you?” I asked.
Hugo gave me a questioning look.
“Sex.” I clarified.
“I'm an incubus.” He said, amused.
“A celibate one.”
Hugo winced. “Yeah.”
I didn’t need to ask. Hugo had already shared his background. Intimacy was something that couldn’t be afforded when every touch, word, or kiss could lead to obsession.
I twined my fingers together and placed them on my stomach. “The first body that I possessed was a beauty pageant contestant,” I said, changing the subject. “Dirk gave me a job. Wear Elissa-Mae for two hours. I had to lock another contestant out of their dressing room.”
“What happened?”
“I did the job.”
Hugo must have sensed that there was more to the story.
“I had just escaped Hell, thrown through the fabric of dimensions. I landed in Dirk's bar. Scared. Alone. My family was gone. I'd have done anything for that man. He saved my life.” I explained. “I hung around after I left Elissa-Mae's body. It was like watching one of those machines where all the parts look random, but they all come together like dominos. You know what I mean?”
Hugo nodded, his attention solely on me. Jae and Callum were forgotten.
“When Harper, the other contestant, couldn’t get into her dressing room for a final touch up before the last round—she snuck into another room and used someone else's cosmetics. She was allergic to something in the blusher. She went into anaphylaxis. Died.”
I closed my eyes. “I killed her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” I admitted. “Death is temporary. It's circular. I lived in Hell for many millennia. Souls would come. Redeem. Recycle. Repeat.”
“Death isn’t the end,” Hugo whispered.
I exhaled a relieved breath. “Yeah.”
An especially loud moan took my attention for a second.
“The second that I took over Elissa-Mae, my world was colorful. Touch. Taste. Smell. I'd never been able to do any of those things before.” My voice was tinged with the same wonder that I had felt that day, and every other, when I allowed myself to think about it.
Hugo's lip tightened, and I gasped when I realized where his thoughts had gone.
“I don't want to have sex with you.” I blurted out. “Well, I do. But I don't. If that makes sense?”
“Thanks?” Hugo stifled a laugh.
My cheeks burnt hot. “Seven Hell’s. I am the epitome of articulation. Marvel before my wordliness.”
“Is wordliness a word?”
“Yes.” My chest puffed out in pride. “I just used it.”
Hugo grinned, unable to keep his amusement from his face. “You were explaining why you didn’t want to sleep with me?”
I sobered, shifting until my back pressed against the wooden headboard. No more sounds drifted through the walls.
“I’m not in my own body.” I looked down at my hands. “I don’t have a body.”
Hugo reached over and twined his fingers with mine to stop me from picking at the cuticles. “You don’t need a body.”
I was conscious of how immature it would have been to have stamped my foot and loudly proclaimed how I wanted one, even if I didn’t need it. The brief periods of greyscale between possessions were getting harder and harder to stomach.
Dirk lined up easy targets, but unless someone was comatose like Frankie, wearing anyone for an extended period of time was almost impossible. Dead people rotted. Drunk people sobered up. Eventually, the owner of whatever body I was in would manage to push me out.
“I don’t want to be with you while I am wearing someone else,” I explained. “It just doesn’t feel right.”
Hugo pushed a tendril of hair behind my ear. I placed my hands over my eyes. I sunk down slowly until my head hit the pillow.
“Roll over,” Hugo suggested, pulling the comforter up high to cover body of us.
“Why?”
Hugo's response was a sharp look.
I did as he said with little protest.
Hugo's arms slipped around my chest, pulling me into the arch of his body, like a big warm spoon. I felt swaddled and safe. I never felt safe.
“Will you meet me in my dreams?” Hugo asked sleepily. I did not have a chance to answer before Hugo's breathing grew heavy.
Soon mine followed as I fell asleep in his arms.
The dream began like it always did.
The red sands of Wrath shifted with the invisible breeze of our presence. My Cluster rolled and danced across the expansive wastes, rattling the brittle trees and throwing the sand into the air in blood splatter bursts.
A chasm, on the edge of the Valley of the Valkyries, was our hunting ground. The eagle-winged women, souls of vengeful spirits too powerful to punish, flew high in the grey clouds. They were the Queen of Wrath's army. The most powerful of warriors, and the most damaged of souls.
My kin and I would feast on the nightmares of the Valkyries. Trying to offer them relief from their pain, and selfishly fill our metaphysical bellies too.
Abuse of all kinds at the hands of men birthed nightmares borne of reality.