I don’t remember falling asleep. I only remember Lucis’ hands.
That night was like slipping through silk—slow, warm, heavy. The kind of sleep that doesn’t feel like rest, but like surrender. The kind that swallows you whole.
I found myself on a rooftop soaked in moonlight. The sky glowed the color of bruises—deep purples and black-blues, a storm just waiting to break. The city around me shimmered like a secret. Music throbbed below, but here? It was quiet. Too quiet.
And then… I felt him.
Lucis stood at the edge of the rooftop, back turned, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. His silhouette was sharp, dangerous, like a memory I’d buried too deep. He turned slowly, like he already knew I was watching him.
“You came back,” he said. I blinked. “Back? I’ve never been here.”
He smiled. That smile. Wicked. Slow. Familiar.
Before I could ask anything else, I felt heat at my back. A breath on my neck. Then Christian’s voice—dark honey and fire.
“You’ve always been here. You just forgot.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
They were so close I felt them breathing me in, like they knew my pulse before I did. Lucis stepped forward, hand on my jaw, tilting my head up. Christian stayed behind me, hands sliding to my hips like they belonged there.
“Still soft,” Lucis whispered. “Still ours.”
I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve screamed, slapped one, ran from both.
Instead, I let my lips part. I let Christian’s fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, slow and possessive, while Lucis’ mouth brushed mine in a kiss that didn’t ask permission.
“Say it,” Christian growled.
“Say you missed us,” Lucis added.
I didn’t say a word.
I kissed Lucis harder—and Christian pulled me tighter.
And in that moment, I stopped wondering if I was dreaming.
Because it didn’t matter.
I should have woken up. But the dream wasn’t finished.
The next night, I was back. Same city, same rooftop. Except the moon had vanished and the skyline felt like teeth.
The rooftop dissolved beneath my feet. I was somewhere new now: a corridor of blood-red walls and velvet curtains, no windows, no doors. Just shadows that moved when I wasn’t looking.
Lucis appeared first. He stepped from the dark like he was made of it, eyes too calm to be safe. No smile. No greeting. Just hunger in the shape of a man.
“You keep coming back,” he said. “But not for answers.”
Before I could respond, Christian emerged behind me again. Always behind. Always close.
He didn’t touch me this time.
He whispered: “You want the feeling. The weight. The pull. You don’t want to wake up.”
I shook my head. Lies taste bitter.
Lucis touched my face, fingers cold now. “You gave yourself to us when you dreamed of us. That makes you ours.”
The walls throbbed like a heartbeat. The floor tilted. And I was falling again—but slowly. Like drowning in honey and ash.
Christian pressed a kiss to my neck that felt like a warning. Lucis kissed my lips like a threat.
I whispered, “I’m yours.”
And they smiled. Like wolves.
It stopped feeling like a dream.
I stopped waking up.
The third time, I opened my eyes to silk sheets tangled around my legs and candlelight dripping down the walls. I was in a bedroom too grand to be mine. The air smelled like smoke and spice. Familiar hands were already on my skin.
Lucis sat at the edge of the bed, watching me with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. Christian leaned over me, shirt unbuttoned, his lips grazing my collarbone.
“You don’t belong to the world anymore,” Christian said.
“You belong to the dream,” Lucis added.
I should have fought it. I didn’t.
I arched into them. Let the shadows take me. Let the voices fill my head with soft commands and cruel promises.
I was theirs. In the dark. In the heat. In the lie I didn’t want to wake up from.
And when I came undone, it wasn’t with a scream.
It was with a vow.
Let me stay.
They didn’t answer.
But they never let go.
