Nymre sighed when Lorian’s hands squeezed her hips and pulled her closer to his. His black eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, deep, really deep, into her marrow. His allure stronger than her will, his fingers trailing over her skin with hungry shadows, teasing her and tempting.
“My beautiful darkness” she whispered when he pressed inside her, a wave of pleasure and something more, something thrilling, which was filling her with night and she almost felt like her whole body dissolves into sparkling particles. His shadows were filling her crevices, making her want it to never end. And she knew he felt the same, when their auras collided and absorbed, sucking each other in, with hungry, unsated maws.
She moaned when he got deeper, so deep. Her legs dragged him in even closer, closing over his back, trapping him in her embrace. His moves were hard, slow and strong, sweet as black honey. Tasty.
“Delicious raven…” he purred, his hand slowly lifting her chin, fitting into her with especially strong thrust. She smiled at him, a raveneous smile.
“Yes…” she grunted with a low voice, changed by desire.
Filled with touchable darkness she groaned like a trapped animal. Taking him all in, allowing the night to consume her whole.
And it was so hungry. In Dal’coler it was even hungrier than anywhere else. It was his element, and she was spread under it, waiting for the stars to fall on her skin.
It was tight and filthy, in best way possible.
She felt him so well, while he slowly dragged her closer to the edge. She felt she is so close, that he is so close.
She sighed and her eyes locked at his when her climax rushed through her body and took her over completely. He joined with her in a fevered kiss, his tongue in her mouth, his hips tightly pressed to hers, when she crashed into white.
You are mine, she felt more than heard, just in her mind, a voice inside her that caressed her in her afterglow. Her thoughts drowned in his aura, her lips curving in smile, wicked and joyful at the same time. Vicious. Knowing. Filled with elated gleam.
The nights in Dal’coler were never silent. They were never safe too. But Leira wouldn’t live for so long, if she didn’t grow spine hard as rock and fast mental agility. Here, everything was a trap. Here, humans lived mostly few months, especially when they tried to escape. High Fae considered them toys, and toys they were, used merely for fun. And fey’s understanding of fun was very gruesome.
But she fought against all odds, and got temporary protection. Even though serving Lorian was hard, and dangerous, she learned how to please his whims. She didn’t care how dark he was getting, as long as she lived. She never lost her will and she never ever allowed them to push her down, never fall on her knees, at least deep inside her soul.
The fey were able to be kind, they were able to give. But even that was dark, in own twisted way. Their kidness was like moon sucking light from the sun, bright and offering clear path, but still shining with a stolen gleam.
One of the things that she got from Lorian, an act of generosity or boredom – or both – was long life. It was painful, and she preferred not to remember how it was passed on her. But having long life in Dal’coler meant two things. You have witnessed many losing their own, those you have attached to as well. And… you learned many things, useful ones. And Leira was clever. And with Lorian’s protection, as elusive as it was, she already had the position of a useful servant. Not a slave, a servant. Not a toy.
It infuriated other fey. But that only was motivating her more. You wanted to spread dark over my life. I have become darker too.
She was passing corridors which breathed with light and darkness, both, mixed in unhealthy proportions, which was making newly captured humans lose mental stability. Fey palace was a place where you could lose mind so easily.
“Ah, lady Leira…” she heard a muffled, silent voice. The aura of warm light hit her, but she was prepared. Prepared to always be ready for glamour.
A tall fae was approaching, his green and golden attire complimenting his emerald eyes, which were as blank though, as most of the fae kind. No empathy, no human feelings, Just cruel desolation.
“Lord Alnam…” she bowed, deeply, but not too deep. She didn’t have to, she was his ruler’s property.
Lord Alnam once tried to show her where her place was, to force her into submission. But Lorian didn’t like it. Alnam ended with damaged vocal cords, to always whisper since then, while the imbued shadows caused him pain while he did.
The High Fae of course were amused. Lord Alnam also knew how to be a survivor. But… Leira didn’t pity him at all. It showed only what her real position among all humans and fae might be.
But she knew, very well, how he hated her. Hated her with passion only available for High Fae.
Become as dark as them. Feed on it and you will live longer.
“Ah, so in hurry again… one could think that our lord needs your services too often for you own wellbeing” his smile was predatory.
She wanted to pass him by, not engaging in any tricky conversation, but he caught her by her arm, and gracefully turned her, so she faced him.
His whispery tone joyful, like he was a child, gleefully pinning a tossing butterfly to a board.
“I wonder what good lady Nymre would say, if I told her, how often our lord needs you at night. How often you run to him with a smile, eager to serve him. Ready to be filled with darkness. For a low human it must be even more thrilling” his smile almost unnaturally wide.
She looked just into his eyes.
He would do that.
No. He could do that long ago. He was just trying to scare her. But one small word from the angry and vengeaful fey could start a vicious chain reaction.
“I doubt” she smiled at him, a smile painted with only a slight tint of fear.
“You think so?” his grin now showed teeth.
“I don’t think so, lord Alnam. I know that” she grinned wider, her voice tainted with dark amusement, which she learned from the fae themselves. “If you again tried to tear my good name apart just before the Shadow’s eyes, you would end worse than without voice.”
She thought for a second she pulled it too far. After all, she was just a servant. A human, without real rights.
But she at least didn’t lie. He couldn’t sense the false in her words. Lorian was really not merciful if someone messed with his things.
Alnam’s aura amassed around her, a light, breezy glamour, which started to force under her skin. Leira gasped. Her hair suddenly started to flow, like she entered water.
I really pulled too far.
But it stopped as soon as it started. Alnam knew well, how it all would end.
And her bluff worked. He released her arm. And patted her on the cheek, in a paternal gesture, a one she immediately hated.
“One day he will get bored with you” he gleamed with joy. “And I will watch how he tears you to living pieces.”
Leira suddenly felt terribly exposed. She didn’t want to show that, not to him, keeping her head high and watching him as he goes. His words, aimed to harm her, really reached that constantly afraid spot, deep in her mind, which she always repressed to come out.
Become as dark as them. Do not let them break you.
But when he disappeared, a wave of fear entered her, an ominous, morbid feeling.
If he gets bored with you…
And she knew how true it was.
Leira’s heart squeezed with anxiety, her feet carrying her fast through empty passage, a fast stride with which she tried to give herself the confidence she didn’t feel. She couldn’t believe how easily Alnam’s words touched her. As if he had back not made of stone, but dove feathers.
Ad then, in the fast midstep, like a wave, it hit her. A pain in her chest, spreading over her skin, flesh, bones and bubbling in her spine. She groaned, when whole body started to burn, her eyes filled with unwanted tears.
It spread so fast, too fast, like a growing parasite inside her tendons, injecting toxins as it went.
The pain lasted and lasted, Leira bent, unable to stand straight, her teeth biting her lip with a furious will to not give a sound. It sipped from her marrow, like a hungry leech, taking all strength from her, leaving debris in her bones.
She would scream, if not well-learned caution, more engraved in her mind, than any pain.
Stop, stop, stop. Just go away.
She found herself on the floor, her eyes taking in the whole corridor, in fear that someone saw her. Her legs fumbling, when she tried to get up, pain still lingering in her flesh, like a ball of sharp metallic pieces, placed in her insides.
Oh, by the goddess… What was that?
She knew how it felt. With perfect clarity.
She felt it only once. When she was foolish enough to anger Lorian.
His eyes looked like dying black moons. Nymre looked with fear into them, empty holes painted with deepest blackness.
He was never made her feel afraid before. Only when they both needed it and when it was more a sweet and dangerous game than reality. But now he looked… empty. Like darkness without soul, like night without a single star.
“Lorian? What happened?”
It was a fleeting moment. A glimpse. But it really made her feel terrified.
A touch of void, she hoped that never was in him. A fairytale soul from the stained glass-window, a lost beast she was not expecting.