CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHLOE I dreamt. I dreamt, and the only thing that ever coaxes a dream from me is a truly deep sleep—a heavy, rare oblivion. I have never had an issue with my routine; I sleep soundly enough, yet I am usually met with a void. Never have I had a dream—at least, not one I could recall—let alone one so vivid, so sweet. So pleasant. In this vision, I was held captive by my villain. He subjected me to the best and worst of tortures. It was exquisite agony, a paradox of suffering I wouldn't expect anyone else to comprehend. When I woke, a sound escaped me. Not just any sound; I moaned. A low, wretched moan of longing vibrated through me as I surfaced from sleep. It was the exact sound I had made in the dream while my villain broke me—it wasn't a cry of pain but of raw pleasure. But that w
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