After the satisfying end of his cigarette, he slowly made his way back inside, the cool night air still lingering on his skin. He closed the balcony door with a soft click, then turned to head back to his bed, ready to drift off into sleep. But just as he was about to settle in, a strange, faint noise from outside reached his ears, pulling his attention.
The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically, each second passing with a weight that seemed to grow heavier in the quiet. At 2 a.m., the house felt like it was holding its breath. A sharp chill had settled in the air, creeping in through the cracks, making everything feel colder than it should have been. The deep shadows outside, combined with the chilling silence of the late hour, cast an unsettling feeling over the entire room.
He hesitated for a moment but then, determined to investigate, pushed himself up. He strode towards the balcony door, his mind racing, his body already starting to feel the bite of the cold. Opening the door, the icy wind hit him, and he shivered as the coldness of the night seeped into his bones. Bare-legged, he felt the sharp contrast between the warmth of the inside and the freezing air beneath his feet. His chest was bare, the chill of the night making his skin tingle as he ventured further into the darkness.
The ticking of the clock inside seemed to grow louder, like the only sound in a world that had gone completely still. He stepped further into the night, his senses on high alert, scanning the area. The sound from earlier—was it the wind? An animal? Or something else? The darkness before him seemed endless, stretching beyond what his eyes could comprehend. Yet, despite all his senses telling him to be cautious, there was nothing. No movement, no shape in the shadows—just silence.
It was as if the noise he had heard was nothing more than a trick of his mind, a phantom echo in the vast emptiness of the night. But the stillness around him only added to the unease, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. He turned back to the balcony door, the air feeling even colder now, and closed it behind him, but the feeling of the unknown lingered. The silence of the night seemed to whisper something—something he couldn't quite grasp.
Sean could barely make out anything in the darkness. The shadows outside blurred into one vast, unknown space. Feeling an unsettling twinge of fear, he turned to head back inside. But before he could even take a step, a cold, deathly strong hand gripped him from behind. It was almost like the touch of a corpse—rigid and chilling.
His heart raced as he turned in panic, only to be pulled closer by the mysterious force. Before he could even question what was happening, his lips were captured in a kiss—slow, deliberate, and overwhelming. His mind screamed to push the person away, to fight, but his body betrayed him. The kiss was intense, igniting something deep within him—a spark of desire he hadn't felt before, or perhaps one he'd never known existed. The sensation was foreign, and it took him completely by surprise.
The kiss continued, unrelenting. He wanted to pull away for air, but the sensation was too powerful. He was lost in it, unable to stop. Then, the stranger's lips moved, trailing down to his neck, sucking deeply as if trying to draw out the very essence of him. The intensity of it caused a rush of heat through his body, and to his confusion, it made his body react in ways he couldn't control. His nipples hardened, and his lower half trembled with arousal—he wanted to stay lost in the moment, but the pressure on his neck became almost suffocating.
Just as his body ached for more, a voice from behind him broke the trance. "Wake up! Sean... wake up."
He whipped around, only to find there was no one behind him. His heart pounded, and the darkness seemed to pulse with something sinister. His gaze flickered forward, and the person he had been kissing now stood in front of him—no longer human, but something twisted and unnatural. The figure's smile was unnervingly wide, creeping along its face in a way that made his blood run cold.
"You're mine," the figure whispered, the words sending a wave of terror through him. Sean tried to back away, pushing the figure off him, but his hands were trembling. His lips felt wet, and when he shouted in confusion, "Who—?" his voice cracked with fear.
Suddenly, everything went dark, and he snapped his eyes open. His breath came in rapid, panicked gasps. He found himself back in his bed, in the same room where he had spent the night with Mia. The familiar scent of her hair drifted to his senses, and as his eyes settled on her, lying peacefully in his arms, his racing heart slowly began to calm.
It had all been a dream—a vivid, unsettling nightmare. He sighed in relief, trying to shake off the remnants of fear that still clung to him. But as his hand brushed his neck, a sharp pang of realization hit him. There, on his skin, was a hickey—an unmistakable mark of passion.
His eyes widened. Mia hadn't given it to him. The dream felt so real, and now this lingering mark told him that something more had happened—something beyond just a dream. The feeling of cold hands, the strange kiss, and the words that still echoed in his mind: "You're mine."
He shivered, not from the cold, but from the eerie sensation that the dream wasn't entirely over.
To be continued...