As you drifted into sleep, your dreams filled with Mattheo—the forbidden, dangerous son of the Dark Lord. He wasn’t yours, but oh, how you wished he was. Your friends warned you he was changing you, corrupting you, but they couldn’t understand. He hadn’t turned you into something new; he’d simply uncovered parts of you that had always been there, hidden and yearning to be free. You never felt more alive than when he was near.

In your dream, he appeared, his presence igniting your senses. You could feel his touch grazing your skin, his lips trailing softly along your neck, leaving you breathless. But just as you leaned into him, needing more, he disappeared, leaving you alone and aching.

You woke with a start, breathing hard, your cheeks flushed with a mix of desire and frustration.Turning your head, you stilled, pulse quickening again. There he was, lounging in your desk chair, a cigarette between his fingers, a devilish smirk curling at his lips. His eyes glinted with a dark amusement that made you shiver.

“What’s the matter, love?” he drawled, his smirk widening as he took in her disheveled state. “Have a bad dream?”