WHO: Natalie Kelly (open to Dex Henley if she wakes him?) WHAT: Dreaming WHEN: Tuesday night/Wednesday morning WHERE: Chicago
Kel had been up late with some reading--she was working on some continuing education credits for her vet's license--and when she'd finally called it a night, she had fallen asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.
Even before she'd crawled into bed, she'd felt the pressure of impending dreams, fighting off sleep by sheer willpower, along with the imminent dream-sickness that came as a side effect of such denial--but she knew she wouldn't be able to hold off much longer. She'd recognized it in the way that she was so easily distracted by every little sound; by the flickering lights and shadows that seeped in through the blinds and played across the living room walls.
Leaving the Valerian untouched, she had abandoned herself to sleep, and to Morpheus. And dream she did.
Stirring in the arms of her dream, she rolled over and found herself lying face to face with...something. Something that bore the visage of Richard Hardwell; the young man that she had killed while the demon Azazel was in possession of his body. He was gazing at her with those inhuman, amber eyes of his, and he was touching her.
Natalie felt her heart skip a few beats as his eyes glowed yellow, and she sat up hurriedly, jerking away from his caress. "Get the hell away from me!"
"I can't do that," the demon's voice purred through Richard's mouth and throat. "You see, I'm inside of you. A part of your subconscious. You invited me here."
"No." She wanted to run, to flee, to wake--but he held her with his gaze.
"Oh, but you did," he whispered, stroking her face. His fingers wrapped around her throat as she tried to turn away, but it was a subtle, almost sensual pressure. "You spilled my blood with Ache Silvestri and took my essence into your sword. I am a part of the sword now, as it is part of you. And we could do so much together."
She closed her eyes, and the demon leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear. "Look at me, Natalie," he said, fingers tightening by degrees. He released the pressure the moment she opened her eyes, though he still cradled her neck like a lover. "Is it this body you dislike? Or is it the fact that you can't bear to look on the face of the boy whose life you snuffed out?"
You, Natalie wanted to hiss, You snuffed his life out long before you met my blade.
"You did him a favor," said Azazel, answering her thoughts. "He was grateful to you. Oh, I could show you just how very grateful he was," he added, his body writhing sensually against hers, "But since that thought clearly distresses you, I can make myself resemble anyone you like..."
As he spoke, Natalie became aware that his eyes were no longer yellow but a blue so pale that they were nearly silver, his hair lengthening into a curtain of frost-white. The pointed tips of his ears were just barely visible through the silken strands, and his smile glinted like chipped ice. It was the face of Lothor, Keleios' would-be consort.
She stared as the face shifted again from Lothor, to Dante; gasping as phantom hands slid dexterously over her body and between her thighs...
And then she sat bolt upright, her nightshirt clinging to her in the humid air, trembling as she glanced at Dex' sleeping form beside her. How could she dream such things while she was in bed with the man she loved?