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A bright bit of lemon blossomed in Matteo’s soul piece, and he rose onto his tiptoes, tilting his head in clear invitation.

Nightmare had been holding himself back, demonstrating immeasurable restraint when it came to his sweet summoner. He’d been concerned that if he broke that last barrier between them completely, he’d lose sight of much-needed vengeance.

But a kiss, sweetly asked for—Nightmare couldn’t deny Matteo that.

Nightmare lifted Matteo from the floor, taking his mouth.

He kept his sharp teeth to himself, but soon Matteo’s tongue was at his lips, begging for entry.

Nightmare blunted his fangs and let him in.

He was rewarded with a soft sigh, Matteo’s legs wrapping around his middle, immediately rocking against him.

There was such hunger there, in the way Matteo ground against him. Nightmare knew the feel of such want. It matched his own, an insatiable craving that only grew and grew.

When Matteo’s became more urgent—his hard cock pressing again and again against Nightmare’s belly— Nightmare hissed, halting Matteo’s movements with a hand to his hip. “Patience, sweet.”

Matteo leaned back, glaring at Nightmare with the same fierceness he’d shown their fellow bus passengers.

“I’m twenty-one years old, and I’ve never once been touched in the ways I want.

And now you’re here, and you think I’m beautiful, and I want you to do the touching. Why am I being patient again?”

It was a reasonable question. Nightmare wished he had a reasonable answer. Instead, he had dark urges and fierce needs and his murderous shadows whispering to him about truths that should be revealed.

Nightmare pressed a kiss to Matteo’s temple. “I have a story to tell you, sweet. Remember?”

“Is it a sexy story?” Matteo asked, his lower lip pushing out into an unconscious pout.

Nightmare had the foreign urge to clear his throat. “Some parts could be considered—”

“That’s a no,” Matteo said with a sigh, cutting Nightmare off.

Nightmare lowered him gently to the floor. “Sit, little human.”

They ended up cross-legged on the floor.

Nightmare had delved into the room’s mini refrigerator and set up a selection of beverages for his human.

Matteo chose a small can of alcoholic cider.

He was still shirtless, and his bare skin with all its history seemed like a gift.

One Nightmare hoped wouldn’t be rescinded.

“My kind—”

“No,” Matteo interrupted. “You said a story .”

Nightmare’s lips curled into a smile. So demanding when he allowed himself to be, his summoner. “A story, then.” He settled his hands on his bent knees. “Once there was a type of demon, rare and solitary. No friends, no mates, no companions of any kind.”

Matteo settled into a slouched sort of posture over his crossed legs, listening raptly over his cider.

“One day, one of these demons agreed to be spelled into a Book. Contained there in exchange for access to the human realm. For, you see, demon dreams are dull and monotonous. It’s humans who hold the variety, in their varied fears and terrors and twisted thoughts.”

“And the demon got stuck?” Matteo guessed.

Nightmare nodded. “And the demon got stuck. But it was no matter because he was strong and he was singular, and he could still access the human realm in dreamspace. He was well fed, despite his captivity. He was powerful. And he was bored.”

It had been a surprise, the boredom. Nightmare had thought feeding from human terror would awaken something in him—align him to his terrible purpose. But the novelty had worn off after barely a century, and Nightmare had realized there was no purpose in it at all. Only survival.

And there was nothing beautiful or interesting about merely surviving, was there?

“And then one day the demon tasted something new. A thread of something…special. He followed that thread to a nightmare. And within that nightmare, he saw a face. Large brown eyes wet with tears, and a sad little mouth begging for mercy.”

It seemed at some point Matteo had stopped breathing. He was holding himself unnaturally still, his beverage forgotten as he listened to Nightmare’s tale.

“The demon gave it to the human—as a lark more than anything—and the human smiled at him, though the demon’s form was terrible.”

Whatever happened, Nightmare would remember that smile for the rest of eternity. The slight tremble in it, the wet tracks of tears still running down Matteo’s face. A cousin to the smile Matteo was giving him now, amazed and a little bemused.

“And with that gesture, the demon could taste it, out from under that bitter coating of fear—a sweet, tart bit of soul. Lemon cake with bitter peel. And the demon began to covet. To desire to keep it for his own.”

Matteo licked at his lips, seeming to come out of his trance. “He—he liked the human because the human was so scared?”

“He liked the human for what lay underneath the fear.”

Matteo’s brow furrowed. “But didn’t the demon like fear the most out of anything? Didn’t he need it to survive? To feed off of?”

Nightmare sighed. “And I have been doing so for a long, long time, Matteo. Fear sustains me, yes. But it is…a vegetable. I need it, but I can tire of it. You, my little human, are dessert. Sweet and delectable. Driving me to gluttony. Do you know what I’m telling you?”

Matteo shook his head, his eyes wide.

“I connected with your psyche despite the multitude of barriers between us, and I tasted your soul long before our contract. So no, Matteo, you won’t be rid of me.

I could be sent back to the demon realm this very instant, and it would not matter.

I would find my way back.” Nightmare leaned forward.

“You let a monster in that night, Matteo. And I am never, ever leaving.”

Nightmare’s proclamation was met with silence, those big brown eyes still leveled at him. He cocked his head. “Are you frightened of me now, Matteo Caruso?”

But it wasn’t fear emanating from Matteo’s soul piece, Nightmare realized after a moment. It was awe.

Finally, Matteo rose onto his hands and knees across from Nightmare on the floor. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care that Nightmare’s shadows had come out to wind around his wrists and forearms. “Can I tell you a secret, Scary?”

Nightmare nodded. He would take every truth Matteo wanted to give him.

“I’m not supposed to be alive right now,” Matteo whispered.

“Dominico was growing restless with all of Luca’s false promises about me, and Luca had given up on me ever taking over.

After they got rid of the Kozlovs, Luca was going to either kill me or finally give me to Dominico to do the job for him.

Sascha and Kai freed me, but I knew I was living on borrowed time.

I knew that Dominico would find me eventually. ”

Matteo crawled forward, placing his hands over Nightmare’s on Nightmare’s knees and using them as leverage.

“So I’m not even a real person, Scary,” he continued in that quiet whisper.

“I’m the ghost of a lost boy who was given away, forced to use a name that was never even his.

” He tugged on Nightmare’s shirt, coaxing Nightmare to bend his head.

He cupped Nightmare’s cheeks. “But you’re here now.

And you being here makes me feel real . You covet me?

You can have me. I’m happy to be yours. I would have been dust otherwise. ”

Was this what it always felt like when a demon found its mate? It couldn’t be. No other creature could have felt a triumph this sweet, this perfect.

Nightmare grinned, all sharp teeth and shadow.

He’d known it from the moment he’d caught the scent of Matteo’s soul, back in that wretched Void. He’d known Matteo was destined to be his.

Nightmare had found his terrible purpose, and it was more beautiful than anything else in all the realms.