My Dream Lover Is Real, the Underworld God
For three months, the same steamy dream has haunted my nights.
There's always a tall, faceless man.
Every time, he kisses every inch of me. Heat pools in my belly, making me tremble until I shatter.
I always wake up gasping, heart pounding. Staring at the damp sheets, I'd pathetically tell myself I was just touch-starved. Craving release.
But last night, he spoke.
His voice was deep, thick with desire. "I wish I could hold you for real. Be inside you. My little star. Let's meet. In the Eternal City. Please?"
I froze.
He's in the Eternal City? He's real?!
I wanted to ask how to find him, but the dream shifted. Suddenly, I was seeing through his eyes.
I saw him leaning against a lavish bed, his right hand sliding down to grip his hard length.
My pulse raced.
Then, I saw it. Carved into the bedpost was a pomegranate crest.
My heart stopped.
The Night House. The absolute rulers of the Eternal City. Descendants of the Underworld God. Mortals didn't cross them.
And me? I was just a newly appointed court astrologer working for them. I couldn't afford to offend a single one of them.