He's A Monster

He's Dead

Danielle's Perspective POV

For the past two months, Vincent had haunted my dreams. Always the same: the sound of piano keys echoing through unfamiliar woods before slamming into an organ, his face etched in shadow and light, beautiful yet terrifying. Every night, every dream, I woke with my heart racing, thinking of him, even after being with Marshal. Today was no different. 

I looked up, confused, at the man before me. Marshal's face was full of worry and sorrow, and I could feel myself trembling violently beneath the light cream-pink sheets. Sweat slid down my collarbones to my chest.

Why was this affecting me so much? Why do these dreams keep coming back? Why him?

I glanced at Marshal's hand resting on my cheek, brown eyes surrounding the yellow in his orbs, jaw tense, body angled parallel to mine.

"Danielle, are you okay?"

How could I explain that I'd been dreaming about a man I didn't know, about Vincent? How could I explain the shame and confusion curling through me?

"I... I'm fine," I whispered.

Lie.

Marshal edged closer, his hand sliding down my cheek to my forearm.

"You're lying, love."

"What?"

"You're lying, love. Your breathing's faster. Your heart's racing. What's wrong?"

I froze, stunned. I couldn't tell him. "Just... a bad dream," I murmured.

His long arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

"What happened in the dream, love?" he asked softly, lips brushing behind my ear, down my neck to my shoulder. His hand rested just above my belly button, musky scent filling my senses.

I shivered as his lips brushed a mark on my neck. My hands moved to his, fingers interlocking with his long, strong ones.

"You were... gone," I said, breathless. "Just... standing there."

He gasped, grip tightening. "Why would you dream something like that?" His voice was low, edged with concern.

How was this my fault? I didn't control my dreams.

"I... I—" My cheeks flushed, words faltering.

"Shh, love. Don't think I'll leave you."

"Mar—" I began, but he cut me off, pain flickering across his features.

"I will always come back to you. Always."

My knees went weak. My heart skipped.

"Love?"

"Yes, Marshal?"

His finger brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. "Your heart just skipped a beat."

I smiled slightly, staring into his eyes. "Yeah... it did."

I turned onto my side, holding my hands together, trying to calm the storm of my thoughts. His long body curled behind me, arm draped over mine, face buried in the pillow beside my head.

"Danielle?"

"Yes?"

"May I say something that may make you want to leave?"

I hesitated, then murmured, "Y... yeah."

"Okay... I think I'm falling in lov—"

Then, chaos erupted.