Page 27 of His to Ruin

The dim glow encroaching at the edges of the dream grows brighter, more insistent. The outlines of the bed and the void beyond begin to waver. I know this signal all too well: dawn is here.

I can delay no longer.

With a soft sigh of resignation, I pull the disarrayed sheet up to cover him, tucking it around his cooling, naked body. He subconsciously snuggles into the newfound warmth, turning onto his side. I brush one last kiss across his parted lips—a fleeting touch, tasting the breath of a man who belongs utterly to me.

“Sleep well, my precious human.”

My forked tongue flicks out in a final tease, lightly grazing his lower lip, then I draw back. His answering hum is content; his mind drifting safely in deeper sleep, oblivious now to the shifting dream around him.

The shadows that curl around my form begin to bleed outward, merging with the receding darkness in the room. I can feel my powers waning as the sunlight strengthens in the waking world beyond.

My eyes never leave Christian’s sleeping face as I place one clawed hand on the bedpost, steadying myself for the pull of departure.

Another breath, and I force these musings aside. “Mine,” I whisper one final time, the word a promise as much as a claim. The last syllable hisses through my sharp teeth as the dream around us shudders.

Bright, golden light is beginning to pierce through cracks in the darkness overhead, illuminating the scene in ethereal morning glow.

It’s time for nightmares to scatter.

My fingers slip from the bedpost, and I step backward into the retreating shadows. My body, moments ago solid and mighty, dissolves into tendrils of black smoke that coil along the floor and walls. In the physical world, perhaps it would seem a mere flicker of darkness in the corner of his room—nothing more than a trick of the early sun. But it’s me, withdrawing from this plane. I linger just long enough to see Christian sigh in his sleep and curl onto his side, clutching the pillow that still carries my musky scent.

He is safe and at peace.

Good.

With that final comforting observation, I let go. The last of my essence slips into the dark ether as morning breaks.

I am gone from his immediate reality, but I am not truly gone. No other nightmares will plague him this day—I’ll see to that. He will awaken later, perhaps confused and sore, but unharmed. And when next he closes his eyes under the veil of night, I will be there, coalescing from the darkness once more.

DR. KALL

Ilook at the row of new interns behind me, each more ill-prepared than the last. Their naive baby faces all stare attentively in my direction, their eyes wide with excited innocence.Idiots. This place—these people—it’ll turn that excitement into horror before the day is done. I’m starting with five new interns. I’ll be lucky to still have one here before the day is out. Not much you can do as a young college graduate with a degree in Psychology, so inevitably they end up here for a paid internship. I’ve seen many enter these halls thinking this will be their stepping stone to a career as a criminal profiler for the FBI, like on the stupid show Criminal Minds. Most end up running from this place in tears.

The criminals are here alright, and happy to talk, you just won’t like what they have to say.

My shoulders tense up beneath my pristine lab coat as I spin. I’m sure I look professional now; by the end of the day, this white coat will be covered in blood, feces, semen, urine, and whatever else they’re able to hurl at me throughthe bars. I run my hand through my dark hair. It’s going to be a long fucking day.

“St. Andrews houses the most unstable inmates in the system. We bring in those who are too violent for society, but too unwell psychologically to remain in the regular prison system,” I inform the eager interns as we begin strolling through the halls.

One of the interns is wearing new bright white tennis shoes. The rubber soles squeak with each step. The sharp sound reverberates off the yellowed walls. I might dismiss that one early to avoid a day of listening to that fucking sound. I place my badge against the keypad to enter the secure wing. My heart pounds against my chest aggressively, as it always does, when I hear the locks disengage in the heavy metal double doors in front of me. I love my job in theory, and hate it in reality. The title, the salary—those are nice. The patients, the constant anxiety, the damn bodily fluids being flung at me—that I could do without.

“Do not,” I pause for dramatic effect. “I repeat,do not, engage with any of the patients. This is a facility housing dangerous and unstable individuals. You are here to observeonlytoday. Do I make myself clear?”

I spin to face them, my eyes roaming their faces to check for their acknowledgment. Three of them nod sharply.Good. One already looks like he’s thinking of bolting. He’s pale and his eyes keep darting around the room as if searching for an escape route to run toward.Run while you can.

Squeaky shoes, on the other hand, looks … determined. I don’t know her name; I never bother learning their names unless they make it through the first few weeks. But whatever her name is, her face tells me she heard what I said but she thinks she knows better. I’ve seen that look before. She thinks she’s gonna connect with the criminal and crack the case like Agent Who Gives a Shit from TV.Great. She’s going to be fun to deal with today.

“Do I make myself clear?” I repeat again.

Pale face nods slowly although I’m concerned he may also be wetting himself as we speak.

“Got it, Doc,” squeaky shoes says, holding her head high, her eyes narrowed as if ready to face the challenge head-on.

Doc?This fucking girl. I am a doctor, yes. A decade of school plus another six years of experience in the field and I’m actually the lead psychiatrist here at St. Andrews. But yeah, I’m sure squeaky shoes is about to blow me away with her superior psychological abilities. I barely stop the eye roll that threatens to take over my face as I stare back at her. Her pale skin, dark features, and piercing golden eyes are attractive. If she wasn’t so annoying, I’d probably try and have her beneath me by the end of the day.

Turning back around, I push the thoughts of her writhing on my cock out of my mind. I continue walking, waving politely at Sam who sits at the on-call desk as we pass. He’s a nice enough guy. He does his job well. He’s just a little bland. Not my favorite coworker to share a shift with.

“Have a good first day,” he calls to the interns as we pass.