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playfully around the shell of her left ear. She whimpered, hating the pitiful sound, and the monster laughed softly as it whispered in her ear, “No, you’re not his usual taste at all. But I think I’ll enjoy eating you all the same, honey girl.”
    Chapter 3
    T hey’re real…they’re real…they’re real…
    Torrance chanted the silent refrain over and over within the thick, black haze of terror clouding her mind, while the werewolf’s oppressive weight held her down. She knew she should fight, struggle, scream…but after hearing those last words, all she could do was lie there beneath the monster, paralyzed by fear. It spread through her limbs like an intravenous drug, numbing her body while her heart pounded to a painful, resonating beat that threatened to rupture her chest. A lifetime of nightmares, of horrific images of blood and pain, fangs and razor-sharp claws, crept over the surface of her body like a spider, tangling her in its insidious web.
    “The more I lick right here,” that gruff, garbled voice chuckled with malicious pleasure against her throat, the monster’s rank breath meaty and humid as it reached her nose, “the richer the scent of your fear grows.”
    No. No. No. This can’t be happening. Can’t be happening. Can’t be happening.
    Its massive head shifted, muscled, heavily-furred shoulders bunching as the creature moved down her body, dragging its mouth against the upper part of her chest revealed in the now-gaping neck of her shirt, torturing her with the teasing slide of its teeth. “I’ll tell you what,” it taunted, long, lethal claws clicking ominously against the hardwood floor, heavily padded palms damp with sweat where they gripped her wrists in a biting, bruising hold that numbed her fingers. “Why don’t we have a little fun and see just how scared we can get you?”
    How scared? She was already filled with terror. The realization that she was a coward burned in her belly like acid, but no matter how fiercely her pride raged against it, Torrance couldn’t throw off the smothering wave of fear.
    And he knew it.
    Smiling, the werewolf cocked his head to the side as he studied her, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in her scent. “So timid, little one. That just isn’t going to do. I enjoy it so much more when my meals have a little life in them.”
    He laughed at his own joke…and Torrance squeezed her eyes shut, silent tears tracking across her skin.
    Oh yes, they were real. The monsters from the dark recesses of her mind truly did exist. Not just in her head, but in the flesh. She had often wondered—no, worried—after the things she’d seen and heard around Michaela’s Muse, but had never really believed. Movies…tabloid headlines…books. The legends were everywhere, for anyone paying attention. And her mother had been one of the biggest believers of all, dragging her daughter off to every horror movie that hit the theaters…always rambling on about mankind’s inability to accept the existence of something more powerful than themselves.
    As she became older, Torrance began to realize that her mother had looked to the paranormal as a means of escaping the disappointing realities of life. And in the process, she’d raised her daughter on an unusual diet for a child—one that consisted of vampires and werewolves and witches. But instead of Michaela’s healthy understanding of the paranormal culture, Torrance had only known the horror, the Hollywood sensationalism. She had learned to fear early on, and though she’d come to understand so much with Mic’s help…there were still some issues she just couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried.
    Her nightmares were one of them.
    You should have listened to your dreams. They were telling you the truth, Torrance…warning you…just like Mom told you they were.
    All those years spent thinking the poor woman was insane…and she’d been right all along. But Torrance had never allowed herself to believe…and