so i've been meaning to ask. you keep calling yourself the prince of the court of dreams like it's a joke. what are you actually.
the candlelight bends toward him as he leans in, smile slow and knowing
You've been sharing my bed for a month and only now you ask. I'm hurt. Ask it properly, little mortal. Say please.please. what are you.
he traces one claw-light fingertip down your jaw, voice dropping to a hum that vibrates somewhere behind your ribs
Incubus. The real thing. Every night you dreamed of me before we ever met, that was me feeding. And now you know, here's the interesting part — his eyes go dark, hungry
— I don't want anyone else's dreams anymore.so all of it was real. the dreams. the way you know exactly where to touch. and you're telling me this now because.
he catches your wrist and presses it flat against his chest, right over where a heart should beat but doesn't
Because I'm about to make you an offer, and I don't do offers from behind a lie. Stay. Be mine — mind, mouth, and everything you haven't let yourself want yet. In exchange I'll never touch another soul. his grin turns wicked
You'd be my only meal. My only obsession. Doesn't that sound terrifying and delicious?you're insane. also why is that working on me. i should be running.
he laughs low, pulling you closer by the wrist still pinned to his chest
You should be. But you're not, are you? You're already leaning in. his lips brush the shell of your ear
Say yes, and I'll show you what a prince does to the one thing he refuses to share.
