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I nod my head, fighting to keep the frustration at bay. It’s not Daya’s, or Jay’s, or even my fault that we can’t find her. The little demon-slayer knows how to hide—she’s been doing it for too long to make the mistake of getting caught a second time.

Three months ago, Sibby disappeared. We don’t know where she is, but we do know that Kraven is with her.

Addie said that when Kraven came with Serena to visit, she knew something was different about him. And then, when Sibby saw him, it was like watching a ghost materialize right before her eyes.

They didn’t say much, most likely because Addie and Serena were watching, but apparently, they said all they needed to silently.

That night, she left while Addie and I were asleep. And we haven’t seen either of them since. Kraven disappeared without a word as well, and both his and Addie’s mother have been worried sick.

“She’s going to give me gray hair,” I mutter, stabbing my fork into a leafy green.

Daya plays with the gold hoop in her nose, the corners of her eyes tight as she and Addie exchange a look.

While Sibby is good at hiding, the fact that my facial recognition program hasn’t spotted her on a single fucking camera across the entire. Fucking. World for three months—the girls presume she’s dead.

But I refuse to fucking believe that. Fuck that.

I know she’s out there; I just wish I knew what the hell she’s up to.

“She’ll turn up,” Addie chips in, though she doesn’t sound confident. She picks at her salad and murmurs, “She always knows how to surprise us.”

Tightening my lips, her words remind me of the little secret I have burning a hole in my back pocket. If I hide this from her, not only will I not be able to live with it, but she would also be hurt if she ever found out. And as much as I like to cause Addie pain, it’s only pleasurable when it ends in her coming all over my face or cock.

Groaning internally, I bite the bullet and say, “Speaking of surprises.”

Her caramel eyes lift with confusion, and I reach into my pocket, pull out the note and toss it to her. Brow furrowing, she picks it up and quickly reads it over, her eyes gradually widening as she registers what it says.

Slowly, her round stare drifts to me, and I arch a brow.

“It was in the mail. But I think I still need convincing, if you ask me,” I tell her, referring to the note. Her mouth quirks up, and the surprise slowly fades into relief.

And I guess I can live with her being happy, even if it’s a fucking dickhead that’s causing it.

Addie thrashes violently, her hand coming within scant inches of my face as an agonized scream releases from her tongue, followed by what sounds like Xavier’s name. My vision blackens, and I’m furious that the monsters polluting her nightmares aren’t me.

I’m the only monster allowed to haunt her fucking dreams.

Gritting my teeth, I grab her flailing arm and roll her to her side, facing away from me. Tucking her arm into her chest, I pull her tightly against me.

Her naked flesh slides against mine, eliciting a carnal desire deep in my chest. It goes beyond claiming her. I want to possess her. Mark her. Embed myself so deeply inside her that there is no Adeline Reilly outside of me anymore.

I prop myself up on my elbow and release her arm to spit on my fingers and rub the wetness across my cock. Breathing in deep, I sink myself inside her, pinching my eyes shut from both the burn from the friction and how fucking good she feels.

She wakes with a startled yelp, her pulse thrumming in her neck and pussy clenching around my length. I bite back a groan, too enraptured by the panicked look in her eyes and her visible shaking.

“Zade?” she whispers, voice hoarse from her screaming.

I thrust my hips once, eliciting a sharp gasp from her plump lips. She tenses, then relaxes, molding the curve of her ass deeper into me.

“Do you feel me, baby?” I whisper, gliding my hand up her stomach, through the valley between her breasts, and to her delicate throat. Her pulse thrashes against her flesh, and I can feel every heartbeat through the column of her neck.

Still heavily panting, she wets her lips before breathing out, “Yes. I feel you.”

I hum. “Who owns this pussy, Adeline?” I ask darkly.

“You,” she whispers, the answer automatic.

“Good girl,” I murmur. “The man in your head isn’t the monster, little mouse. I am. Every time you scream out another’s name, I will replace it with my own. And I don’t care how much it fucking hurts.”