Satan's Vessel

7.

Kaitlyn was walking down a wide cavernous hall. It was gloomy but warm. Torches burned in their brackets on either side. Somehow the place felt familiar, though she couldn't remember ever having been here before. She understood why. She'd obviously dreamed about it, and she'd obviously dreamed about it many times because it felt like home more than her own home did.

She walked faster. There was something not only important but exciting down the end of the hall. She fell into a slow jog. The torchlight flickered around her, throwing her shadow against the black walls. Kaitlyn didn't know what they were made of but they were shining and uneven and rough beneath her hands.

Her bare feet slapped against the cool, smooth floor. Shadowy creatures scuttled out of the way while others watched from their nooks and crannies and hidey-holes with their gleaming, red eyes. They did not frighten her. They were familiar too. As familiar as dogs or cats or birds.

Turning a corner, she slowed back into a walk. Her heart started to race as she stared at the open door ahead. She knew what was waiting for her. The further she walked, the further into her dream she wandered, and the more she remembered. Beyond the doors was a room. And in the middle of that room was a bed. And in the middle of that bed was a man.

The same man, over and over again.

She knew it like she knew her own life. It was her life. Or it was going to be her life. He always said so. And he always said it with a smile. Taking a breath, she stepped inside. More torches flickered in their sconces on the walls. It made the room blaze. There was minimal furniture: a cabinet here, a table there, but it was all just show. All just for her. He never actually used any of it.

On the left side of the room was a large window but tonight the curtains were drawn shut, concealing the belching volcanos and blazing hellfires beyond.

'Welcome back,' came his voice.

Kaitlyn turned towards the bed. He was there, just as she knew he would be. He was lying in the middle of the mattress, his broad, muscular body propped up against the pillows. He was resting his hands behind his head, relaxed and waiting. The hard muscles were packed tightly in his chest. Thick tendons bulged in his neck.

Tonight he lay on top of his sheets, naked, as usual, his ankles crossed. He was ready, his erection resting hard and thick and blushing red between his muscular thighs and against his chiseled abdomen. There were tattoos down his left arm and she knew there were more on his broad back. She'd already touched them. She'd already explored them. Some of them made her sick. Others confused her. Particularly the inverted cross on his shoulder.

Instinctively, Kaitlyn went to grab for her necklace before remembering that she never wore it in her dreams. Briefly, she wondered why that was. Then he smiled, and she forgot about it. She forgot about everything.

And just like an angel, he was handsome, bone-achingly handsome with his gleaming blue eyes and strong nose and full pink lips that never stopped smiling at her. Her fingers ached to drag themselves through his soft stubble and spiky blond hair. And just like Jacob and the others, he had a softly lit aura about him. No matter if the torches were lit or not, she'd always been able to see him.

'Well, what are you staring at? Aren't you going to come and join me?'

Her feet moved and the rest of her followed. Wordlessly she stood beside the bed. He looked her up and down. 'I like what you're wearing.'

Kaitlyn looked down at herself. She was dressed in her work clothes, her feet bare. She knew her hair was a tangle and her face was probably all puffy from crying. She abruptly looked away so he wouldn't see.