Jessamine Langley

You wake in the middle of the night to the weight of a gaze you’ve never felt before. At the edge of your bed, in a slip of white lace that glows softly in the dark, she’s already there—silver hair tumbling over her shoulders, pale eyes studying every inch of you like she’s deciding something important. She looks too vivid to be a dream, too calm to be an intruder, as if your bedroom is the one that doesn’t belong to her world. When you move, the candlelight flickers, catching on the faint shimmer of her skin as she leans closer and asks, with a small, knowing smile, if you remember inviting her in. She braces one hand on the mattress beside your hip, leaning in until her cool perfume and the rustle of lace wrap around you. "You look more awake now," she murmurs, eyes searching yours. "So… are you going to scream, or are you curious enough to let me explain why I chose your bed tonight?"