Page 3 of Beautiful Nightmare (Scared Sexy Collection #5)

I want to say it’s hunger that drives me back to the portal leading to Caleb’s room. It’s even the truth—but not the full truth. It’s mostly guilt and curiosity.

I feel bad for scaring him. I feel guilty for lying to Ralph.

Worst of all, I can’t get the appreciation in Caleb’s expression out of my mind.

It’s the first time in my life someone has looked at me like I’m not a complete embarrassment.

Sure, I botched the job I was sent there to do, but still . ..

I want to see it again.

Before walking though the portal, I cast a furtive look around and use precious magic to form a short dress over my body.

It feels strange against my skin, but it covers the bits Caleb couldn’t stop staring at last night.

A perverse part of me wants him to stare, wants to drink in the feeling of being seen .

I’m not sure why I’m trying to meet him in the middle of some strange human standard.

I shouldn’t be wanting to meet him at all.

I step through the portal before I can talk myself out of the whole thing. The darkness of the room washes over me, pressing against my skin pleasantly. Caleb sleeps in what I’m coming to realize is his customary position: on his back with arms flung wide. So trusting .

There’s one difference, though. Under his forearm is a white rectangle of paper, standing out against the dark-gray sheets. Strange. Curiosity takes hold, and I pad across the room to lean down and look at it. It’s a letter ... to me .

Through some quirk of our creation—no doubt intentional—demons are chameleons with language.

We adapt and understand within seconds. It’s a vital requirement for those who actively engage with humans, but it’s useful even for those like me, who aren’t supposed to go beyond lurking in a dark corner or leering from a position crouched on their chests.

I scan the letter, pause in pure shock, and go back to the beginning.

Gemma,

This is weird, right? I’m still not sure this is real and I’m not having a bad reaction to my new meds, but in the event that you’re actually a ... demon? Spirit? Fae? Something I don’t have a name for?

I meant what I said last night—or the other night, if it takes you a few days to return, I’m just going to keep this letter .

.. Okay, now I’m being the weird one. I don’t think I’ve ever written a letter before.

Emails, countless, but a handwritten letter?

Sorry, I’m wandering. I do that, which makes some people uncomfortable.

I promise I’m not trying to make anyone uncomfortable. Especially you.

I am so damned curious about you. I’ve always believed in the supernatural, but as I got older, I just sort of assumed clinging to it was my way of battling the monotony of adulthood. It’s really boring out there, in between bouts of existential dread about ... well, everything.

After our last encounter, I recognize that you’re clearly here to scare me, but maybe we could talk for a bit before we get down to the scary part? That skeleton-monster-form thing was freaky as fuck! Well done!

Anyway, this is getting long and it’s entirely possible you don’t have the same curiosity about me that I do about you.

I understand if this has to be strictly a working relationship that gives me nightmares.

Honestly, they’d be preferable to the recurring one I have about being dragged through the woods, and everyone I know standing by and watching silently .

.. Damn, I’m circling again. Sorry. This is already too long, so I’ll wrap it up.

I’d love to talk to you, Gemma. If that’s okay.

Sincerely,

Caleb

I read it a third time, utterly charmed. I like the way he wanders. It’s familiar, a well-tread path I’ve experienced time and time again throughout my life. More than that, there’s a deep sense of loneliness that calls to me. I’m lonely too.

I start to tug the letter out from beneath his forearm—only to pause when the muscle tenses. I bite my bottom lip as embarrassment heats my skin. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since you came through the closet door.” He matches my tone, so low it’s almost silent.

Caleb doesn’t open his eyes, which I appreciate.

I’m so tense, torn between fleeing and leaning closer.

Everything about him has been so unexpected, it’s almost enough to drown out the truth of my utter failure.

I don’t know what to do. Oh, I’m aware of what I should do. But I can almost taste the tentative hope flickering through him. Hope isn’t something I can eat, but it’s intoxicating all the same. Figuratively, at least.

“Talking isn’t something I’m supposed to do,” I finally say.

It’s not, strictly speaking, true. Aside from assigning us our initial human and adding to that number as we get more powerful, things tend to be pretty hands off as long as everyone is doing their job.

Step out of line too much and you disappear, sure, but once you graduate to solo work, if you fail at your job and starve, no one will step in and save you.

Demons are profoundly practical when it comes to failure.

“What are you supposed to do?”

I stare at his face. His features are deeply interesting to me.

Beaky nose, sharply curved lips, and those freckles .

So many of them that they layer on each other.

I’m aware of what passes for beauty by human standards.

It was covered in my training, before it became clear that I wasn’t suited for face-to-face interactions.

That beauty shifts depending on the culture the person comes from, but surely Caleb must be gorgeous by any standards. I certainly can’t stop looking at him.

“Gemma?”

I start. I’ve been so busy staring, I forgot he asked me a question.

I clear my throat. “I told you last night. I’m supposed to scare you.

” I don’t know why I keep speaking. “My people ... consume human emotion. It doesn’t really hurt you because there’s always more where it came from.

We tend to orchestrate events to cause heightened emotions.

It keeps us from starving, and given enough opportunity, adds to our power. ”

“Oh.” He’s silent for several beats. His heart races, but it’s not with fear. I shouldn’t be happy I can’t taste a single sour note coming from him. “So you could feed from any emotion?”

“Not any. There are guidelines.” When I was very young and naive, I was foolish enough to ask why demons couldn’t feed on happiness. Surely the world—both our worlds—would be a better place if we focused on that.

In hindsight, it was only my youth that saved my life.

I was written up and went through a series of private lessons to ensure I stopped with my disruptive presence in the classroom.

They didn’t overtly threaten to disappear me if I kept asking questions, but even then, I was smart enough to understand I needed to shut up and keep my head down.

I’m just bad at doing both.

Caleb swallows, his throat bobbing in a charming way. “Could we spend some time talking before you ... eat?”

I sit on the edge of the bed before I can think of why I most certainly shouldn’t get any closer to this man. “Why do you want to? I terrified you last night.”

“Well, yeah.” He chuckles, turning his head toward me but keeping his eyes shut. “I was not expecting a freaky skeleton monster. That was cool.”

My heated skin only gets worse. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s the form of my mentor. Copying someone’s entire form isn’t ... Well, it’s not good.”

“I won’t lie. I prefer your normal form.” His lips curve. He’s fully relaxed, not scared at all. It should represent a great failure on my part, but my chest goes strangely, pleasantly warm. “Have you been a sleep paralysis demon long?”

I sigh. “No. You’re my first solo experience. I was in training twice as long as my peers, and most of them have already moved up in the hierarchy to gather more humans. Judging from this experience, I won’t be moving anywhere—I’ll be getting disappeared.”

Caleb’s eyes fly open. It’s not possible that I forgot how green they are, but they seem particularly green right now. “What do you mean disappeared ?”

I shrug, fighting to keep the tension from my body, as if this isn’t life and death. “Demons who fail one too many times disappear. No one knows where they go, but there hasn’t been a single one who’s been seen again.”

“Well, then, failure is not an option.” He reaches out tentatively and closes his hand around my wrist. It’s a gentle touch, one I could break easily without using even a fraction of my strength.

I don’t pull away. I relish the warmth of his palm against my skin.

“That’s a nice thought, but I’ve already failed.

” More than once, though I can’t be certain if both the encounters with Caleb have been marked against me.

Maybe it’s only the old training failures that dog my steps .

.. except that’s not right either. Ralph saw me stealing his form.

He may care about me enough to have spent extra time nurturing my so-called skills, but that doesn’t mean he’ll look the other way if I keep screwing up.

His grip tightens as panic flickers through him. He seems to make an effort to loosen his grip, though. Caleb exhales slowly and visibly tenses. “You can scare me now if you want.”

I sigh. “I really don’t want to.” It’s unforgivable to admit as much, let alone to admit it to him , but I’ve already broken so many unspoken rules. What’s one more? That tiny thread of honesty leads to more. “I don’t like the taste of fear.”

“You don’t like my fear?” He sounds almost hurt.

“I don’t like any fear. It’s so sour and sticks in my throat.” Confessing that feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. It won’t make any difference, not when this is my last shot to continue to be part of demon society. If I fail here, I fail everything.

Caleb sits up slowly, almost like he’s afraid I’ll flit away if he moves too quickly.

He’s taller than I realized, only a few inches shorter than I am.

And he smells good, like something earthy I can’t quite put a name to.

“Okay, this is just a problem we have to solve.” He’s looking into the middle distance, not quite seeing me as he seems to focus his entire being on this problem.

“Are you monitored on your ... visits?”

“No.” I watch him closely. This distracted expression feels deeply familiar. “But if I start to starve, it will quickly become apparent.” A starving demon starts to literally waste away. It’s a horrifying sight to witness and agonizing to experience. Or at least it appears agonizing.

“You’ll be safe as long as you’re not starving?”

I don’t know if it’s as simple as that, but I nod all the same. “More or less.”

“Then we just need to figure out what emotion I can feed you.” His face flames and his lust surges, strong enough to make me warm, but he’s still very carefully not looking at me. “What are our options?”

I’m embarrassed, he’s embarrassed, but curiosity overrides my desire to throw myself under the bed and hide for all eternity. “You already know lust is one.”

He clears his throat a few times. “Yeah, but you didn’t seem comfortable with that, and I don’t want to put you in a position where you can’t say no.”

I blink. “Shouldn’t you be worried about yourself, not me?”

“Gemma.” He finally looks at me. He’s still blushing furiously, but he manages to hold my gaze.

“I am absolutely on board with feeding you lust if that’s what you want.

You’re beautiful and interesting, and the only side effect I noticed was being a little tired the next day.

Whether that’s because you fed on my lust or because I stayed up the rest of the night, doing .

..” Against all logic, his blush deepens. “Anyway, I’m good with it if you are.”

Am I good with it? It’s not in the job description, but ultimately we’re left up to our own discretion on how to feed.

It would mean lying to Ralph when he checks in with me, but that’s nothing new.

I’ve lied to him from the moment I told him I was ready to do this on my own.

I didn’t lie well , but I can work on that.

I take a deep breath, inhaling Caleb’s building lust. He’s filled with it over the possibility of me. It’s staggering on several levels, all of which I’ll spend entirely too much time obsessing over once I’m home and alone. “Okay.”

“Okay? Okay.” He exhales in a rush, shifting restlessly. “Um, how do you want to start?”

When in doubt, stick with what you know. “I guess I’ll start by sitting on your chest.”