I started this series as a fun side project. Weird fact about me: I have to write daily, but I rarely have any say in what I write. I can’t force a book out. I just have to wait on it to flow.
I probably have over eighty or more books that I’ve started. I quite possibly have twenty or so that are fully/mostly written and might never be published, because I don’t particularly love them. But since I had three out of four of these written, and happened to love them, I decided to start releasing.
I stole some names from some of my other C.M. Owens series. Essentially, I took some of my favorite characters, changed how they looked, and wrote an alternate universe where things are very much different.
As I said, I never intended to publish these, but the more I wrote, the more I fell in love. So now it’s likely going to happen.
I picked a name to publish under, since it’d be confusing with all the recycled names from my regular pen. Not to mention, this is really different from my norm, and I didn’t want anyone shell-shocked or scared to trust me again.
I also plan to have these in KU—at least for now.
Anyway, I don’t have any social media set up for this pen because that gets confusing and messy. Is that weird? Probably. But then again, so am I. However, I genuinely worry about upsetting readers who weren’t prepared for me to do something quite so abrupt as writing a reverse harem, and the more you read, the more you’ll understand why I don’t unsuspecting people to accidentally download them.
“Oh! Oh yes,” the woman with the perfect purr says around an exaggerated moan.
Really, can’t he tell the girl is quite dramatic with the theatrics?
But Three doesn’t care.
Three is a rather selfish fellow, I’ve noticed. He lets One, Two, and Four do most of the heavy lifting, then he steps in and does something very scandalous it seems, if her breathy pants and moans could be trusted.
It’s not really scandalous. He’s just fucking her nice and hard, chasing his own release, and she’s fake moaning like she’s working for a Grammy.
It’s times like these I’d really like to be able to eat popcorn. It seems like the perfect time to have a bowl. The damn stuff slips right through my non-tangible hand.
Frustrating. As. Hell.
Anyway, Three gets his and moves aside for Two to step in. Two likes the nipples. He always works the nipples, and that’s when her moans will get raspy, more genuine. Two is who I’d like to meet first. Three would have to sit out if I ever get out of this half-here, half-not phase and touch some skin.
I’d make him watch, while Two took my nipples just like he’s doing to her now. As he was doing that, I’d make One and Four change their routine from going first to going second.
As soon as Two finished my nipples, I’d have One and Four do that delightful little blindfold game they do. I wouldn’t know which one had his face between my thighs, humming whatever tune he wanted. I wouldn’t know which one was behind me and running his hands all over my body.
Those two like to share a lot.
Three would usually step in and steal all this glorious thunder so he could deliver some anticlimactic lightning. Pew. Pew.
Not with me. He’d have his very impressive-looking ass on the sidelines, stroking himself for my viewing pleasure, as Two stepped back in and took me slow, then hard, then slow…
Oh yes. This is exactly what I’ve been doing for the last few years since I became whatever this thing I am.
We went dancing tonight. The four of them often go to clubs to find a willing participant interested in a scandalous night of debauchery with four sexy men.
I love dancing. I always pretend like it’s me they’re surrounding as I stand in the middle with the woman of their choice, while they close ranks, boxing her in on the dance floor and making her feel like the sexiest, most desirable woman in the world.
It’s breathtakingly erotic and empowering. Obviously it’s just make-believe on my part, since they’re not aware of me.
I’m neither here nor there. Alive nor dead.
I don’t even quite know who I am. I know what century I’m in, and who the American president is. I assume that means I’m American, especially given the fact English is the only language I know.
But me? I have no clue who I am. I know all that other seemingly less important information, but not where I live, or what I do, or even my name.
And I have no clue who these four are, other than the fact they’re not entirely human, though they look like the finest specimens in the world.
Well, I’ve learned their names; I just had them numbered first, so I considered them pet names after that.
Jude—Four—is the dark and tempting type. Not generally brooding, but certainly foreboding. A sinister twinkle sometimes flickers in his eyes. Dark hair, dark eyes, beautifully tan skin, and a body that would set my panties on fire if they were actual panties.
Yeah, he’s the one that drives you to the fine edge of pain, and that’s when those moans become disbelieving, as though they can’t possibly fathom anything is quite so good.
Four is definitely my favorite.
Two is a close second though, because he takes his time. His blond hair is a stark contrast to Four’s inky black hair. The two side by side have no visible similarities, besides the fact they’re carved like sexy stones.
Three is probably the most attractive—blindingly gorgeous, to be honest. But it’s wasted because he’s so selfish with his body, only touching but never letting anyone else touch.
His hair is almost as dark as Four’s, but it’s just a little lighter, always messier. But it’s messy in a deliberate way that only spikes his appeal. And again…that body.
One, who is built just as freakishly perfect, has very light hair, but not quite blond. It also looks the softest, and I really want to get my fingers tangled in it one day.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. I’m terrible for watching these people in their dirtiest, darkest, most intimate of times, when they’re utterly clueless of my presence.
Yeah. I felt that way for the first little while.
During that time, I would flicker in and out. It seemed the longer I had my eyes on them, the longer I was able to stay in this place. Their world.
But when I would seal them out during these intimate times to give them their privacy whilst I called that nasty skank a string of names, I’d slowly start to fade.
What sort of self-respecting woman would allow four men touch her like that? How sickeningly filthy would one have to be to partake in such acts of debauchery?
After years of no one being able to see you, hear you, smell you, feel you, or even sense you? You stop giving a damn about what other people might think of you, and you face the truth of who you really are and what your moral compass truly is.
Because your opinion becomes the only one that exists. No one else even knows you exist.
Turns out, I’m a shameless hussy.
I watched, I coveted, I even did some really questionable things to try and actually possess whatever woman they brought home with them. I’m apparently not the possessing type of ghost.
Or poltergeist? Am I a poltergeist?
If so, I’m terrible at it. I can’t even rattle the electricity or change the channel on the television. Power surges are obviously way out of my league.
Anyway, I’ve since perfected my own personal fantasy. Living. Watching. Learning. I know all four of them as if they’re my real life family.
Well, not family. My people. There.
But they have no clue I even exist.
When I’m watching them watch TV—okay, that sounds creepier than it is—I like watching their different reactions to the same thing. Four always likes the gory stuff. He actually grins when blood is slashed.
Three lights up like a horny teenager when anything to do with sex is on. Ironic, since he’s the worst one at the act.
Two likes to watch with heat in his eyes instead of eager, unlike Three. He also likes to watch his friends—definitely not brothers, learned that—have fun with the girl of their combined choice.
One is the type to react differently the most to things. Sometimes he’s into gore. Sometimes the sex.
Jude is my favorite, of course. He’s the one I would have first. I’d never settle for just one. I’m past all points of dignity or respectable difference. I’m not a lady anymore—possibly never was, since I can’t remember.
I’ve endured this for over five years.
I’ve only caught glimpses of the other world they frequent. They’re certainly not from America, it seems. No. They live in a rather elaborate place where the colors are brighter, the smells are stronger, and the people are really dark and scary.
Somehow it feels familiar too. Though I’m not sure how.
Hard to explain, since I’m a ghost with no knowledge of my past or other worldly things. I know a lot of useless things.
But I’ve found myself knowing things that I didn’t realize were other-worldly until it was pointed out.
So whatever it is they are, I’m something similar. Though that is all real sketchy. I’m almost certain they’re immortals of some kind, but that’s all I’ve gathered. And not vampires; I’m certain of that.
Since I decided to keep eyes on them through all the dirty and the private, my presence has grown stronger. I’m able to stay all the time now. I can even let them out of my sight and not start fading away.
It’s still hard to focus in that other place, though. And now they’re about to start being there a lot more, since they’ve entered the trials. What trials? Hell if I know.
Since whatever I am doesn’t sleep, I even have to watch them sleep.
Ten minutes is the longest I can keep my eyes off them. The second I feel the warning tingle, I’m practically on someone’s lap, pretending he’s soothing me as the strength slowly returns.
They’re very comforting, though they don’t know it.
Needless to say, it’s been a long five and a half years.
There are a lot of others in this other place they visit. Others who also are possibly immortals. Those people are rather vicious. It’s like a forbidden retreat. Ethereal, but full of debauchery and violence.
Seductive as it may be, it’s still a very haunting place, and I have no idea why my boys insist on hanging around those terrible people.
Whatever celestial beings they are, they get tested every other year to see if they get some kind spot on these trials. My boys have finally been selected.
I assume. I’m not really sure.
Things fade to a fuzz around the edges, and I mostly can’t hear all the words and stuff when I’m there. So…an academy? Or a training facility? Who knows?
Anyway, they finally finish off the tonight’s mushy girl with several more mind-blowing orgasms. She’s practically worshiping them now, telling them she thinks she’s finally in love.
I hate her. I hate all of them. And yes, I realize it’s because of petty jealousy.
They send her on her way the second pizza arrives. I join them at the table, sitting in my seat on the end, pretending I’m eating a piece as well as Two speaks around a mouthful.
“It’s my turn to choose the girl next. We haven’t had a redhead in a while,” he tells them.
I frown, looking at my very dark hair. “Nothing at all wrong with brunettes,” I tell him, though he obviously doesn’t hear me.
“Blondes are more fun,” One states with a dark grin.
“Only because you haven’t met me yet,” I point out. “I’ll be game for basically anything with the four of you the second I’m whole.”
“Brunettes are the most tolerable,” Three says after draining a beer.
“Tolerable is not a very sexy way of describing the women with my hair color, Three” I say on an exasperated sigh. “Do you have to be so rude?”
“Brunettes are the ones who fake it the least,” Four says with a smirk, winking over at Three, who pointedly ignores him.
“Yeah, but the blondes I pick out are wildcats. Very little effort in convincing them to try a little bit of anything,” One goes on.
“Redheads are wildcats too. And they’re fucking vicious in the best way,” Two says as he grabs another piece of pizza. “Not to mention they make you work for it.”
“I find it rather annoying how you four classify women based on their hair color,” I primly state, pretending as though my opinion carries weight, when they can’t even see or hear me.
“How about we just get some rainbow-haired girls and call it a tie?” Three drawls.
“I’ll change all of your minds on brunettes. Or I’ll just figure out a way to finally possess these women and be a little bit of everything,” I tell them absently, studying the types of pizza they ordered tonight.
I’ll try some of that pepperoni when I can.
The conversation shifts when they start discussing these trials I’m so curious about, so I perk up.
“Manella has something planned if he’s finally putting us in the trials. We should be ready for anything,” One states conversationally, as though they’re picking up a discussion they paused to sex up that very lucky girl.
“He’s an idiot if he does let us in. Whatever he doesn’t want us knowing will be easier for us to find,” Three says flippantly.
That has me inching forward.
“We’ve played our part. We’ve done our time. They’re running out of reasons as to why we can’t be there. They had to do this because everyone else was starting to have the same questions we were. We’ve excelled at everything, won time after time, yet never get into the trials. They can’t cover it up if they make it so obvious,” Two—I love his voice the most—says as he pours himself a drink.
Make what obvious? It would be awesome if they’d talk about this stuff here more than there.
“Not to mention the sheer volume of souls we’ve reaped. Our count is much higher than anyone else’s,” Four drawls.
Oh, I forgot to mention, they’re sort of bad guys. I’ve been calling them reapers.
I mean, they send the bad souls to the bad place, so obviously they’re bad guys if they’re working for soul collectors or something.
I still want all four. Told you; you learn a lot about your moral compass when yours is the only opinion that matters. Turns out, I’m an unapologetic psychopath.
Not really. I’d just like to know why exactly they got into this line of work. As I said, they’re immortal, which is totally mind-blowing until it’s just sort of regular, everyday stuff.
I’m not even wowed by it anymore, but I can’t be impressed by a mere mortal now either. Not after being around them so much.
I wonder if I was ever impressed by a mere mortal. I really hope I’m not a virgin—can’t even touch myself in this state of being to do an inspection.
I don’t want any awkwardness when I finally figure out how to touch them.
And I will figure it out.
They’ve fortunately had some women over who love their old collection of nineties movies. The ones they have to woo usually get to pick a movie while they get over their nerves of being with four indecently sexy men at once. Some of the ones who’ve chosen Ghost? I love those women. They’re totally awesome, even if I still hate them when they get to touch my men.
I’ve learned so much from that movie though.
It’s not done me any good yet, but I hope to get stronger and stronger until I can possess every girl who walks through that door. Don’t judge. You’d do it too.
Four’s phone rings, and he answers it, cutting off the conversation. “Yeah. We’re on the way,” he says before hanging up.
“Job?” Two asks.
“Big one. Meet me at the cemetery,” Four tells them, and I try to reach him in time to grab on.
Did I mention they can do this freaky disappearing thing? I learned if I’m close enough, it drags me with whichever one is doing it.
I miss Four, so settle for hopping a ride with One, managing to catch him before it’s too late.
Just as we land in the cemetery, I see a horde of black souls escaping, trying to go back out into the world.
Four slices through the air with his silver bo staff, and it glows as it sucks in soul after soul.
The others use their own respective weapons, and I watch them as they storm the city, chasing all the deserters. I have no idea where they come from, or why so many come at once.
But every time I’m here in this cemetery, I feel something familiar about it.
It almost feels like home.
And I don’t even know my name to check for it on headstones.
As always, I walk from room to room, telling them all good night. They can’t hear it, but I do things like that. It makes me feel a little more normal.
Whatever that is.
I always sit down with them when they eat, and I listen to them talk about random things and soul breaks—like the one tonight—that they have to clean up. I often offer my two cents on the conversation, but they talk over me, of course.
But my favorite part of the day is going room to room, making sure everyone is in bed, and telling them good night before I watch over them. Sounds less creepy than just watching them.
A creak so light I almost miss it manages to snag my attention away from Two—the one I’ve decided to watch tonight.
He sleeps so fitfully that I usually choose him just so I can feel like I’m consoling him, even though I can’t do a thing.
Another barely-there creak has me on my feet and moving down the hall as Two wrestles with the sheets.
Rounding the bottom of the stairs, I expect to find Three, since he has trouble sleeping. He has full days where he crashes to make up for all the times he’s been awake.
But it’s not him.
I catch a glint of silver as a man passes right through me, the dark house hiding his face before I can even process what’s going on. I turn to see him moving silently up the stairs, sans the occasional light creak that won’t wake them.
They sleep heavier than that, even if they don’t all sleep soundly.
The silver glistens again, and my heart catches in my throat when I realize it’s a sword. I have no idea if a sword will kill them, but I sure as hell can’t watch them die.
This house is enormous, and yet he’s on the exact wing where they all four sleep? He knows his way around.
I pass right through him again, and he doesn’t even blink. Walking backwards up the stairs to stay in front of him, I study his face, trying to see who he is. I have to find a way to stop him, and his identity won’t help, but at least I’ll know who to curse.
“Stop!” I shout.
He keeps walking, not seeing me or hearing me.
“Wake up!” I shout to the guys as I turn around. The man passes through me again, and my non-existent heart beats that much faster as it thumps in my ears, echoing the sound of a ticking clock.
Panic seizes me when I make an attempt to block him again, and almost scream when he barely cracks open the door to One’s room.
He peers inside, and I rush through him and the door, looking around for anything I can find. I strain, needing something to happen, feeling completely useless and terrified as that door starts opening wider, the shred of hallway light spilling into the room more with each inch.
One doesn’t even stir, even as I pass through him over and over, running through the bed and his body.
“Wake up! Wake up!”
Just as the man snakes into the room with the silence of a seasoned killer, he raises the sword.
I react without thinking, screaming as I launch myself at the man, putting every single bit of my fear into that one action as desperation chokes me.
His eyes widen seconds before the first thing I remember ever feeling comes in the form of blunt, mind-searing pain. Then just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, as the man and I topple to the ground. I pass right through him, barely managing to stop myself from passing through the floor.
It took me a long time to get the hang of not falling through floors.
Then I dart to my feet, gasping. I just knocked him down! Holy shit! I did that!
The man is staring at me in wide-eyed horror, fear and recognition in the depths, until his throat suddenly starts bubbling blood from a slice I never saw.
One is standing over him, sword in hand, as the man’s head starts to slide away.
I jerk my eyes away, not keen on watching a head fall off, even though I’ve seen them do this before. I’ve never actually been so close.
It figures the one person who I was able to touch, and the one person who has ever been able to see me, would be a monster who wanted my boys dead.
What a waste.
There’s suddenly a sword swiping through me, and I look down, seeing it swipe thrice more before I peer up in confusion at One.
He stares at me like he’s confused, and swipes again with that sword. I notice it’s his weapon, the one he reaps souls with.
“What the hell?” he asks on a breath.
It’s then I realize it’s me he’s trying to hack to bits, and my eyes widen as my heart thumps a little harder.
“You can see me?” I ask on a choked breath, cautious hope and tempered excitement bubbling inside me.
“What the fuck are you?” he snaps, swiping at me again.
I fling myself at him, ready to finally touch one of them! And, much to my dismay, pass right through him. I should have known that since that sword was doing the exact same thing to my middle, but I got a little excited. Understandably so.
But it’s the weird tingle I feel when I pass through him that has everything on me stir to attention.
I whirl around as his eyes glimmer with flakes of gold for a second, and his sword falls to his side as he cants his head.
“What are you?” he asks a little calmer, sounding more curious and less hostile.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, still entranced by the fact he can see me. Hear me. “You can really see me?” I ask, stepping closer.
He lets his gaze dip, and he bites down on his bottom lip. “I can definitely see you.”
So much relief floods me at once that it’s a little dizzying. After spending five years being completely invisible, I can finally be seen? I can talk to them?
Tears cloud my vision. How am I crying?
I never knew ghosts could faint.
At least not until it all goes black.
“They sent one of their own assassins. This guy’s sword? It’s made from much better fire-metal than our weapons. It disappeared from sight the second he lost it. I barely saw it in time to know it was even here at all,” is the first thing I hear as I slowly come out of whatever just happened.
I didn’t fade. Otherwise, I’d hear that terrible buzzing sound for days as I came back. This is more of a drowsy feeling.
“And she saved you?” Three asks.
I can feel the weight of his gaze, and I swear, if I could have an orgasm, just the weight of someone’s gaze would give it to me.
I wonder if I’ve ever had an orgasm. I know it’s got to be amazing. I’ve heard the real moans, and I always feel warm when those moans are teasing me. It’s not a physical feeling like the one I had when I hit that man, but it’s a—
I hit that man! How did I forget?!
“Yeah. But she’s not a soul. It’s like she’s a being with a soul, but not alive or dead. I’ve never seen anything like it,” One tells them.
Oh, they’re talking about me. Because they see me. Because this is really happening.
On the verge of doing another ghostly faint, I open my eyes, and they all go stiff as they stare down at me.
“That’s fucking creepy,” Two says, eyebrows up as he studies me with wary eyes.
I guess, since I don’t breathe and I’m just staring at them with wide eyes in my transparent-ish form, I am creepy. But they can still see me, even if I am still mostly invisible.
I’ve always been able to see my reflection, though no one else could, but staring at the wall mirror across from me lets me see more of me. Less transparent than before, but still nowhere close to whole.
Somehow, I just leveled up. And now I need to figure out how to level up again.
“Someone needs to try and die again, so I can see if I can get whole,” I tell the four guys who are staring at me as though I’ve sprouted a tail.
I check, since I feel like anything is possible these days. Nope. No tail.
“What the actual fuck?” Four asks.
“Those weren’t the first words I ever planned to say to you, but seriously; someone try to die so I can save you and see if that helps me level up,” I state again.
“Who the hell are you? What are you? And why the hell are you here?” One asks me, crossing his arms over his impressive, still bare chest.
They’re all bare chested. That’s not even distracting me, because I’m too excited about finally making progress.
“No clue who I am. I’ve been here for five years, and I just sort of appeared here. I have no memory of anything before that. I have no idea why I’m here, other than the fact I need the four of you to exist.”
They give me a blank stare, all of them bristling. It’s hard to see things from their point of view. I know so much about them. I’ve been watching them for years.
It feels like it’s just finally my turn to talk and that they should be as comfortable and close to me as I am to them. When in reality, this is the first time they’re meeting me.
One looks at Four, and Four shakes his head. “I’ve heard of every type of creature out there, and she’s nothing like I’ve heard of. Her soul is intact and fused to this…state she’s in.”
“She can finally be seen, and would not like to be referred to as though she’s not in the room,” I say, holding a finger up as a small smile curves my lips.
Three’s eyes dip down my body, and he takes an unconscious step closer.
“Is she an illusion? Because if they wish to distract us, this would be the way to do it,” Three states absently.
“I can assure you that I am a real person. I’m not sure why I’m like this, or if I’m even alive or dead, but I’m definitely real. Until One was almost killed, you’ve never seen me. But I freaked out and had to save him, and somehow I leveled up to this. And I’ve been watching you for five years, but only recently have I been able to stay here for longer and longer periods of time. These past couple of years, I’ve been able to stay all the time.”
“One?” One asks me with an arched eyebrow, at the same time Two dubiously inquires, “All the time?”
“All the time,” I say with a little too much sassy enthusiasm. “Now I need you to try and die, so I can level up again. Then you four can do all those really fun looking things to me, though I think Three needs to sit out and just take notes for the first few times.”
Four’s lips curve in a grin. Three looks like he’s not happy, though I did just state he was out of the game, but he doesn’t know he’s Three. Two looks like he’s trying to figure me out. And One looks like he wants to lock me in a lab so they can study me from a safer distance.
“She’s certainly been watching us all the time,” Four says with a smirk and a dark glint in his eyes.
“I’m not sure a pretty apparition should win you over so easily,” One tells him. “Not when someone clearly wants us dead. They’re upping their game.”
“She saved your life,” Four reasonably points out.
“Yes, I did. And it was epic. Except for the part when it hurt to crash into that guy. You have no idea how good it feels to finally be heard and seen. So who’s going to put their life at risk so I can see if it’ll propel me into the flesh state?” I ask, looking between them. “If we have a vote, I think it should be Three. He’s quite lazy and lets you three do all the work in the bedroom, while he just has his fun and moves along. He’d bring less to this relationship.”
Two’s lips curve in a reluctant smile this time, as Four’s grin spreads wider. One’s lips barely twitch, and Three tilts his head.
“Why are you calling us by numbers? If you’ve been watching us, why haven’t you learned our names?” Three asks.
“And who’s three?” Four asks with a knowing grin.
“Jude is Four,” I tell Jude.
I suppose it is rude to continue calling them by my pet names now that they can hear me. They don’t realize it’s a term of endearment.
I think I’ve sprang enough on them today.
I stand and walk over to Four, lifting my hand. The other three spread out, their weapons clutched in their hands, and I slip my fingers over Four’s chest, not allowing them to pass through.
There’s no actual feel or true physical contact, and I can press against him but he’ll feel no pressure, since I can’t move objects. I can only rest my fingers on the surface, just as I learned to rest my feet above ground.
Before then, I had to find iron to be around to keep me anchored enough to do it.
A little hum of electricity seems to pass between us, though it’s so watered down I can’t be sure. He tilts his head, his dark grin still fixed to his face.
“Four’s my favorite,” I decide to say honestly.
He releases a rumble of a laugh, as Two snorts derisively.
My eyes flick to Two, savoring this moment. I’m finally introducing myself to them. And I’m actually introducing who they are to me, since I know them and don’t know myself.
It’s sort of pathetically sweet.
“And Two is Ezekiel,” I go on, eyeing him as I move closer.
His eyes run over my face, flicking to my lips once, as that steady hum of electricity changes just a little, and buzzes differently with him.
This is new. I like it.
“He loves nipples,” I add. “He’s the one who gets to touch me first, because I’ve spent a few years perfecting my fantasy. You’re doing everything out of order,” I go on.
Two finally smirks, his eyes lightening just a little as a hint of gold glistens in his eyes the way they did One’s earlier.
On a whim, I step through him. He sucks in a surprised breath, and I feel some weird tingles this time, something much stronger than the hum.
That’s interesting. I felt the same thing when I passed through One.
“Your eyes just did something,” Three tells him, moving closer and frowning over at me. “What’d you do to him?”
“Do it to me,” Four, my fearless boy, says to me, moving closer.
I pass through him, and I shudder at how good those tingles feel. It’s like they’re growing stronger.
“His eyes did it too,” Three states seriously.
Four looks serious now too when he turns to face me, which is not a look I see on him too often.
Three stalks toward me, his little Rafael things in his hands. Sai, I think they’re actually called. And it’s one of those words where that’s the plural and singular way to say it. I think.
Not the important part. The important part is that he’s wanting to use one of those sai to gut me. I can tell by that familiar murderous look in his eyes.
I’ve seen him use those weapons many times.
“Stop!” Four snaps, stepping in front of me before Three can pointlessly use those weapons.
“What’s she doing to you? You’re taking her side over mine?” Three growls.
“It’s not like that,” Four explains, as Two steps closer.
“I can’t sense an ounce of threat on her,” Two tells them. “She passed right through me, and you know I can feel a threat if I’m in close contact with it.”
“That’s why that guy went for One first, most likely. He sleeps the soundest, and you sleep like you’re at war,” I tell him.
“You watch us sleep?” Three asks incredulously.
“Don’t look so creeped out when you share a woman between the four of you.”
Four turns around to face me, his lips twitching again. “How often do you watch our activities?”
“Always, lately. The more I have eyes on you, the stronger I feel. I can stay longer that way. I fade away when I’m cut off from you for too long,” I explain.
“Fade away?” Two asks. “Where do you go?”
Sighing, I take a seat, though the bed doesn’t even dip or anything—again, I can’t put pressure on anything. “Into nothingness,” I answer. “There’s nothing until I return. Then there’s you. Since I can’t do anything but talk to you, and I’ve wanted to do that for a while, I’ll tell you all about it.”