Opal Reyne

“Why do you have a function on your body that is torture?”

“I like this place. It is squishy.”

“I like this place. It is squishy.”

“I like this place. It is squishy.”

“Is... there a way I can fight your dreams for you?”

“And if you still seek him, I will ask the spirit of the void to permit me into the afterlife so I can snuff out his soul so he cannot find you. So you cannot be together. So that you cannot even think of trying to find a way to leave me. So that he cannot come back and be alive in the same plane of existence as you.”

“You are bonded to me. You gave me your soul. It is mine. I own it. Hold it. Cherish it.”

“Mine,” he stated. “Your scent, your voice, your face and body. He cannot have them.”

“Good girl,” he rasped, making her eyes roll into the back of her head. “You brought yourself to me.”

“Every time I have tasted you, I have been moments from shoving inside you. I burned for it. I need to feel you come around me, Delora. I need to feel it, taste it, smell that scent on my body as you coat me with your essence.”