Meanwhile, in the little cabin in the swamp, the heated atmosphere had not faded even during the lull in battle. It was not warmth from the fireplace.
Constantine pressed a hand to his back, which felt as though it were about to break, and thought as much.
Abby lay sprawled across his chest, her sharp nails scratching through the hair on his chest, her face flushed with lingering passion.
"Just like the real thing, Alec."
Rubbing her head contentedly against the man, she was thoroughly satisfied even within her own dream.
"It was real, but I'm John." Constantine regained control of his body and rubbed his face. "You've been asleep all this time, Abby, drifting from one dream to another. I came in specifically to find you."
"Ah?!" She sprang off the bed as if stung by a wasp and hurriedly scrambled to pick up the clothes scattered on the floor.
She had thought it was her own dream, so Abby had done whatever she pleased to "Tank John" in her dream. The long-missed sense of fulfillment had made her demand without restraint.
But now she knew this was not her husband possessing his friend, but that friend himself. A sudden terror of infidelity seized her.
Though she had fallen out with her husband over their daughter's upbringing, she still loved Alec. After all, besides Swamp Thing, who else would love the "Queen of Decay"?
They were both monsters. Only monsters could understand one another.
Constantine, however, was perfectly at ease. It was not their first time, after all. When Swamp Thing had possessed him, he had remained conscious and felt everything; he simply could not control his body.
Since he had tried to resist upon entering this old dream but failed, he might as well enjoy it.
What had