Angela woke up with a moan stuck in her throat and her hands tangled in her sheets. Her breath came in short gasps, her inner thighs damp with heat. She didn't remember when her fingers had slipped between them in her sleep — but the shame burned like incense around her.
It wasn't just a dream.
It was a possession.
Peter's lips had found the side of her neck. His voice, like oil on fire, had whispered things no prayer could cleanse. And her body — that body she'd spent months mastering with modesty, prayer, and guilt — had responded as if it had been waiting its whole life for that dream.
She threw the sheets off her body and sat up quickly, dizzy and flushed. Her small room was still dark. Outside, the power was out again. She reached for her Bible with trembling fingers, but it felt cold. Foreign. Like the pages knew what she had just imagined.
What she had enjoyed.
Angela stood up, walked to the mirror, and looked at herself.
Her face was different — softer. Her lips parted as if begging for touch. Her eyes… clouded with something she wasn't sure she could pray away.
"God, please," she whispered. "I don't want to feel like this."
But she did. That was the terrifying part.
She wanted more.
The knock on her door came too suddenly. She jumped, her heart slamming in her chest.
She wasn't expecting anyone.
Her heart hoped it was Peter.
Her mind prayed it wasn't.
She opened the door slowly — and it was Tamara.
Her roommate, best friend, and the only person who suspected the fire Angela had tried so hard to hide.
"Your face looks like you just fought with an angel," Tamara said, raising an eyebrow.
Angela tried to laugh, but it came out hollow. "I… I had a dream."
"Mmhmm." Tamara dropped her bag. "Let me guess — the kind that makes you say, 'God forgive me' five times before you even leave the bed?"
Angela's silence was answer enough.
Tamara sat down slowly, her eyes narrowing. "It was about him, wasn't it?"
Angela looked away. "It doesn't matter."
"It always matters when you wake up looking like you've been kissed by a ghost."
Angela sat beside her, burying her face in her palms. "It felt so real. I could feel his breath. His hands. And when I woke up… I was… I touched…"
Tamara was silent for a beat. Then, "Did you finish?"
"Tamara!"
"What?" She shrugged. "You're not the first girl to get turned on in a dream. It happens."
"It's not just that," Angela whispered. "I've had dreams before. But this one… it felt like he was there. Like he entered the dream with me. And… I didn't want it to stop. I didn't fight. I—"
She broke off, voice trembling. "I wanted more."
Tamara was quiet. Then she pulled Angela into a hug.
"You're human. Not hollow. Stop punishing yourself for feeling."
Angela pulled away, her eyes wide. "But I made a promise."
"So did he," Tamara said softly. "The question is… what happens when two people who made a promise start burning for each other?"
Angela didn't answer.
Her phone buzzed.
It was a message from an unknown number. But she knew the sender.
"I don't know what I dreamt last night but your name was the first thing in my mouth "
Her body went cold and hot at the same time.
Angela stared at the message, her thumbs frozen above her screen.
Tamara read over her shoulder. "So… what now?"
Angela stood up, slowly.
"I think it's starting."
"What is?"
Angela looked her in the eyes.