A red line

“Aren’t you a pretty thing…”

I had to be dreaming. I struggled to wake, but something kept pulling me back down into sleep.

Fingertips traced my face, then my lips. I parted them and I felt the touch on my tongue. Before my mouth could close, could taste his skin, the finger moved on.

“My sweet, sweet detective. I’ve wanted to feel more of your skin for such a long time.”

I felt a tweak of my nipple, so fleeting. A whimper escaped my lips and I arched up to beg for more.

“As eager as I’d hoped. Warm, beautiful, and responsive.”

My thighs parted when I felt the scratch of nails at my hip. I wanted to beg, but I couldn’t get the words out.

“In time, detective. We’ll have our moment in due time. That is my commitment to you.”

It isn’t fingernails I felt on my throat, but the sharp edge of a knife. It pulled me from sleep with a jolt.

I sat up, my heart racing and my inner thighs damp. Nothing was in my room, my frantic eyes searched the darkness. I turned on the light to reaffirm my belief.

“Fuck.”

I wiped a shaky hand down my face. Arousal and fear had taken up permanent residence in my gut. I was tempted to touch myself, that ache between my thighs so intense I couldn’t think. My hand was halfway there before I could stop myself. No, no I won’t do that.

Sleep wasn’t coming back for the night so I opted for a shower. I stood in the bathroom, dazed as steam filled the room.

Something drew me to the mirror. I lifted my chin, my hand going to my throat when I spotted the mark. A red line, the skin just broken along my neck.

I touched the spot and felt the tremble start.

Shower abandoned, I raced back to the bedroom. My phone was ringing just as I grabbed for it.

My partner’s voice seemed to vibrate over the line.

“He escaped.”

I knew. I knew my monster was coming for me.