I knew it was no doubt a terrifying scene, and most would be horrified to find a young woman willingly reaching out to touch a monster. I mean, this wasn’t just any monster, either. His form was spread out along my entire two-story ceiling corner as he made his way closer and closer. His magic became almost overwhelming and suffocating as he neared, the possessive urge to wrap around me and absorb me into his shadow almost palpable.
The scariest part? I would willingly allow him to do that.
Blinking, I realized I’d gotten so caught up in how beautiful he was that I hadn’t noticed that he was now right in front of me. A dangerous expression formed on his face as his power tried to pull fear from me, making me nearly smile. I knew he couldn’t control that urge, and honestly, the pull felt good against my skin. Familiar.
“You know that won’t work,” I mumbled, pulling off my glasses and tossing them onto the bed, forgotten. It left me even more helpless than before, but I didn’t need to worry about being physically capable in the presence of my nightmare. I knew he would take care of me. Kill for me.
I stepped forward as the black tendrils of magic swarmed me, becoming solid in mass as they wrapped up my arms and ankles. I relaxed, a soft, amused sound falling from my lips as the creature under my hands turned solid to the touch. The once wavy exoskeleton morphed from a nightmare into a man within seconds. I knew he tried to separate the two sides of the coin, breaking up who he was as a man and nightmare, but both were equally as important and valid to me.
“You work too hard.” His large hand wrapped around the back of my neck as I examined his crimson eyes. His voice was so deep that it vibrated through my entire frame, making me press myself further against him, needing every inch of him on me.
You understand why I could never be afraid of him, right? How could I be afraid of someone that loved me as much as I loved them?
“So that I don’t worry,” I admitted and then smirked. “It’s actually very selfish.”
“Arabella.” He rumbled my name as his forehead pressed against my own. “You are the most selfless woman I know.”
Instead of answering, I rested my head against his chest, taking his compliment but not confirming it… because he didn’t know how truly selfish I was. How selfish I wanted to be. He was my monster. My nightmare. He just didn’t know that he had become so much more than that to me. Not just him, though.
Without another word, his tendrils wrapped around me tight as I felt my feet leave the ground, his skin turning back to exoskeleton as I smoothed my fingers over it. His chest vibrated with a low growl, but he didn’t ask me to stop. I knew he was scared I would find him disgusting in non-flesh form, but that wasn’t possible. He was absolutely beautiful, and I very much did want to see him in the light of day. I needed to assure him of my reaction, but I worried there was no way to do that.
We finally reached the corner of the two-story ceiling as I felt his magic completely wrap me up in a cocoon so that I was like a fly caught in a spider’s web, waiting to be devoured. Or that was my fantasy, at least. My eyes closed when his sharp teeth grazed my neck as he buried his head there, inhaling my scent. This was my favorite place to sleep.
That was the last thought I had before everything went dark.
1
Arabella
I wouldn’t change a single element about my life.
I knew without a doubt that others would find that shocking. I mean, what human woman, besides myself, wanted to live inside of an institute that created and trained nightmarish teams that haunted the subconscious of most sane creatures? Unfortunately, no amount of explanation could convince most humans that these ‘nightmares’ and ‘monsters’ had just as much right to exist as they did, that they had lives as valid as any human’s. Was I biased? Absolutely. But that didn’t discount my opinion. I not only considered this place my home, I also counted the nightmares that lived here as an extension of my family. Especially my monsters, the team my father had placed me with. I had no right to call them mine, but it was the truth. That was how I felt, down to my very core.
At least while it was my job to keep them safe.
I could have laughed at that alone. Tiny me, keeping them safe? Hilarious, right? It was true though. I made sure that things didn’t go sideways on missions, and therefore, in part, kept them safe, even if it was from a distance.
Honestly, I was a bit envious of them. I dreamed of being out in the field with them, being part of the action. Of course it was dangerous... but also exciting. It took a lot for me to feel something, but I had an inkling that would make me feel something for sure.
Unfortunately, I also knew the plan was a no-go. I was a lot of things—smart (like really fucking smart), excellent at research, and adept at creating connections with creatures of all sorts. But physicality-wise? I wasn’t a top-tier performer by any stretch of the imagination.
Tilting my head, I traced my reflection in the perfectly shined bathroom mirror, adjusting the clothes that I planned to wear for the day. It wasn’t that I wasn’t physically fit—I was lean with tight muscles that mostly came naturally—but I couldn’t pack a punch of any means. My build was delicate and almost ballerina-like in nature, making a lot of nightmares assume that I could be bullied into doing what they wanted. That was by far their first—and usually only—mistake.
Physical dominance had always been considered highly important in nightmare culture, and that was clearly something I didn’t have, so I couldn’t blame them for their analysis. At 5’1”, I was short, with bright rose-colored hair that brushed my shoulders in a wavy, almost messy texture. It was the only aspect of myself that was unexplainable.
I had pink hair. It was odd, but there was no magical signature associated with me, so we just assumed it was somehow natural. Not that I had spent a lot of time around humans, but the color didn’t seem to be one of their natural shades, so it was, in fact, confusing.
Leaning forward, I brushed on some light lip gloss, my one smoky-colored eye following the pattern of my action. My other eye was a different story. The entire thing was a silvery white, and while I could see out of it, my vision wasn’t nearly as strong due to the injury I’d suffered. I wasn’t exactly positive how I felt about the… difference, even to this day. I had called it so many things across the years, but I had settled on ‘difference’ instead of ‘flaw,’ hoping that would make me feel better. My long, pale fingers came up to my face, running over the harsh scar that started above my dark brow and down onto my eyelid, breaking briefly at the lashes until it continued down my cheek, nearly to my lip. The mark, while a silver color from the healers’ attempts, had still stayed very prominent.
A sigh escaped my lips. Who was I kidding? I knew how I felt about it. I hated it.
I shouldn’t have hated it, though, because it had occurred while trying to calm a small, feline-like nightmare that wasn’t even fully matured. I had been doing a good thing. Still, I had never completely gotten used to it, and each day I added a small black eyeliner heart underneath the end of the scar, somehow hoping to brighten it up a bit. I wasn’t sure if the tactic worked, but I had grown used to the process each morning. I mean, if we were being honest, odd looks weren’t unusual here. Maybe it was something I could celebrate instead. But I wasn’t there yet. Maybe one day.