Page 38 of Night Sector

I sense… a change…the deep voice whispered.Another Alpha, my love? Is that what I hear you dreaming about?

My heart skipped a beat, the question so real, sotimely, that I could almost be convinced that this was actually happening. But I knew better. This was just another dream. A nightmare. A new way for Fare’s ghost to haunt me.

Who is he?he asked softly, his words a brush against my mind. I could almost envision him sweeping those long fingers through my hair while he spoke to me in his placating tone.

It was all a lie, though.

Fare had only pretended to care. He would purr and coo and offer me tender words, just to lull me into a false sense of security. Then he would shatter my world, destroy my nest, and laugh while his friends ripped me apart in front of him.

All that blood and destruction, my safe haven demolished.

You’re my toy,he would say.My precious, pretty little toy. And I adore breaking my toys.

My stomach churned, his voice a permanent fixture in my thoughts.

Tell me who he is, hmm?he continued now.Tell me who has you all tied up in knots.

I shivered, his silky tones worming their way through my subconscious and plucking at the strings of my sanity.

My nightmares had intensified over the last few weeks.

Because of Lorcan. Our bond. Themating of convenienceI’d been forced to accept.

“Tell me what I want to know,” he said against my ear, his palm wrapping around my throat. “Or do you want me to fuck it out of you?”

His bare skin felt cold against my back. Wrong.Real.

A chill traversed my spine as ice slithered through my veins. I could feel his knot pressing against my rump, the threat of violence lingering against the surface.

He would force me to take him. Make me enjoy it. Flood my insides with his venomous essence.

But a rebellious part of me refused to give him the name. Refused to talk about Lorcan. Because that was my secret.My true reality.

This is a dream.

Fare’s not really here.

He’s dead. I killed him.

His chuckle against my throat certainly felt real, though. It felt ominous. Like a lethal promise.A taunt.

“I love it when you fight me, pet,” he whispered against my pulse, his words spoken aloud rather than in my head. “It makes this so much sweeter.”

His fangs bit into my tender skin, shooting pain through every ounce of my being and drawing a scream from my throat.

I jolted.

And flew upward in bed, my hand against my neck.

No blood. No puncture wounds. No rose-like scents.

I shuddered as my nest came into view. My safe haven. Intact. Smelling like me.

No. Not just me.Lorcan, too.

It’d been that way for over a week, since we’d last spoken. Primarily because I hadn’t changed my sheets. I… I liked how he’d made them smell.

Like evergreens.