A Taste of Mortality

“Moderately quick death.”

The words ranged in the chamber, soft and pleasant like a cold rippling stream on the burned wound. Lady Astra felt them though like a whip on an open flesh.

Lorian kept her here for two days, in a mirror chamber. The looking glasses reflected her pale face, even paler now. The magic hidden in the mirrors was driving her senses mad, with mirages and cruel reflections, which showed her distorted visions.

But she wasn’t weak. She wasn’t frail. She lifted her face up.

Lorian stood only a step from her, with his black eyes buried into her; she could feel the morbid interest he offered her. She might be dead soon, but at least she could still oppose him. Nothing was worse than humility.

“I won’t give you the satisfaction” she hissed, a lock of her copper hair fell on her face, adding her a wild look. “There are fae who know who you really are. Those who won’t allow you to use them.”

Lorian laughed, lightly. His lips curled up in a smile, beautiful but oh, so cruel.

“Being used has many shades. Some even prefer it… ” his lips were now closer to her ear, she could feel his warm breath on her skin. “And those who love being used are the majority of this court… enjoying being part of something bigger and… more thrilling.”

She spat into his face but the spit hanged before him, not touching his skin, and fell on her shoes.

“Moderately quick death” he mused. “I promised that to your lord. He was so eager to follow my wishes, if I do so.”

“I do not care” Lady Astra’s hair fell again on her face. Lorian’s finger touched it tenderly and took the tangles off with a delicate move; caressing her skin lightly, and passing her cheek, to stay a bit on her lower lip. Her eyes widened with anger.

“Your lips said many things that displeased me. But it would be a pity to shut them before I hear your voice, telling me how much you want to die from my hand.”

“Never” she formed a wicked, desperate grin.

“Your spirit is indestructible. But I like challenges” his hand ran through her tangled hair and slightly pulled, close, closer. “You were so naive, Astra. Leira is a very talented soul. Skilled in deception. And you underestimated her. An unique unsuspected darkness always brings others to their knees…”

“Your wench,” Astra laughed, losing all decorum. “You call me naive, but it’s her who is a fool. She will end like me, sooner or later. And she knows it, yet she goes further into this pit, until the very bottom.”

Lorian’s eyes didn’t smile anymore. Darkened even more. Merciless. His grin became wider, more dangerous. She saw something in him, which made her toss in place, knowing he won’t be moderate. Ever.

His finger lifted her head, and his lips got closer to hers. She was tossing in place still, like a fish on dry land, but he pressed them against hers, pushing his tongue in, his hands on her hips, pulling her to his chest, flattening her breasts against it.

Her tongue, her mouth, slowly started to melt, while his kiss was becoming deeper. Her eyed widened. Green orbs filled with shock. Molten skin stuck to her flesh, she moaned painfully into him, trying to free herself off. But the darkness was relentless and thirsty, disfiguring her inside. His kiss deepening, more, swallowing her pain. Tears ran from her eyes as he tasted her, her body squirmed in his grasp. He dragged her closer, relishing on her, and her anguish.

Shadows crawled from behind him, enveloping his hands, forming seething talons. He pressed to her body, burying burning night into her skin.

It cracked.

His hands reached under it, Astra tossed wildly when darkness dripped into her throat and burned the flesh.

He eventually sighed into her mouth, leaving the rest of the heated shadows inside.

Lady Astra looked at her not with hatred anymore, but with utter fear.

“Leira… I think you forgot many things about me, Astra” his lips glistening with her blood… and night. “But you will remember them. Your death will be moderately soft, as I promised. But the path to it… delicious.”

She grunted at him, not being able to speak, her eyes filled  with tears of pain. Horror in her eyes, skin thrickling with hot blood.

And the ultimate dark came.

And slithered into her muscles.

Into her tendons.

Into her nerves.

And pulled.

Her nerves bursted from her body, splattering on the mirror wall. A net, intricate web of bloodied threads, looking like a tiny lace, beautiful in its horror. Astra’s mouth opened in the mute and terrified moan of pain and fear.

“I possibly should stay and watch as they are eaten” he purred, leaning over her, inhaling the scent of her hair. “But I am assured that it will give you more comfort, when you won’t see me during the process. Moderate comfort. After all, that’s what I promised to your lord. Moderation. Graceful mercy.”

He placed a kiss on her shivering lips. His mind caught her begging, a wordless plea, which she couldn’t articulate but which appeared in her mind, which he gladly invaded.

“And maybe you will rest easier, knowing that your husband will be safe. Grateful for my compassion. Taking the offered life straight from my hands.”

Her mind screamed at him. It latched onto him with a filling taste of despair and hatred.

Lorian just chuckled, charmingly and… walked away, his shadows following him like smoky ghosts.

Lady Astra watched in horror as the mirrors reflected a slithering darkness which started to crawl closer and closer to her nerves, which pulsed with promise of even more intense torment. And the mirrors… They were both cold and fierce in their hunger. In their cruel thirst for her body and soul.

Just like Lorian Ain’Dal.

He didn’t take her softly. He took her with passion of the storm, hungry and wild. But she didn’t want kindness in bed. She stopped being soft long time ago. She long time ago undestood what she craves for. Beauty of dark possession, abandoning herself in it, hopelessly reaching into the core of the night.

He spilled inside her – so delicious to be able to – his eyes locked with hers, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. Her body pulsating, when the climax washed over her.

“Lorian…” she grunted, a low growl of pleasure. He took her chin up, his lips closed over hers, his tongue pushing inside. He tasted of frozen berries, the scent of violets overwhelming, when the passion disturbed his dark aura, allowing it to release the tentacles of shadows.

He laughed, lightly. His hand buried in her long tangles. His perfect features showing dark, still hungry amusement.

Why I can’t say no to this?

“I like when you tremble under me…” he huffed into her ear, his voice a whisper. A shiver again ran down her spine. When she became like this? Was it him? Or was she always like that?

The forbidden flowers, taming guilt, black as obsidian stone which opened –  shows crimson veins. They all bloomed wider in her. Spreading thorns, cruel but so beautiful.

Violets.

They bloomed with violets.

“Hurt me then” she raised her face, bold challenge in her voice, her own eyes burning with darkness. Lust dripped off her, just between her legs.

She would not dare to say it months ago. Now… everything changed.

“Deliciously…” he bit her lower lip and kissed her again, slowly… taking his time. Tasting her, taking in the flavors.

“So much…” she murmured into his mouth. Frozen berries and melting snow, pure as fresh water in the stream.

Why I can’t say not to this…

His chuckle reached her ears, her legs dragging him even closer, she could feel him again pressing just in the right place. She wanted to urge him more, but then his shadows crept, tendrils of his power slowly seeping inside, fitting into her.

She still looked into his eyes with mute defiance, when he entered her, more, harder, deeper… and she felt it all, at once.

Pleasure… his pleasure, his very lust, pulsing inside her. And adding to it… something close to pain, a desireful pain, not exactly hurtful but tempting with its sensation. Not seering, not overwhelming, but present enough, to make her moan. To make her want more, to feel that she is alive, that it’s real and she can’t stop this, even if she wanted. Mixed with delight, it was like intoxicating drug, bad for mind… but too wickedly pleasant to allow it to stop.

Why you allow yourself on this.

You are not like that.

But of course you are.

You knew that when you were alone… and you imagined exactly this.

She embraced him with all she had; hands and legs, she latched to his skin, digging her fingers deep into his flesh. His black eyes gleamed with something dangerous, when he was sending more of his magic into her, pleasant with a hint of a forbidden…

Oh goddess…

She loved that.

More.

Just more.

You are lost.

She drowned in his gaze, pulling every drop of desire she saw in it.

His moves ceased.

His aura almost invisibly shivering.

His eyes became darker… and empty. Not black void anymore… filled with intelligence and cruel charm… but wells without end, flat lights. Death.

His power pulled her nerves, hard. She stiffled a protest.

She saw as his face tensed, his body became rigid, his muscles hard like stone.

His voice was like coming from the same bottomless well without end, flat… and barely pushing itself through his throat. An illligeble grunt, so unlike him.

But he still was in her, his shadows didn’t retract. His face showed no emotions now, a mask of marble statue, hiding rushing storm behind it.

She saw it then. His mind delved in hers, so deep, that she would scream in surprise, if she wasn’t used to opening before him.

Pain. Not her pain. Not one mixed with pleasure, not desireful pain. Safe one.

Agony.

His.

He projected the imagery of his torment just inside her, unwillingly, against himself.

She saw as he melted in heat, as his tendons splintered and filled with liquid death. He was decomposing inside, rotting alive, with his flesh spread by unknown force, feeding on his torment.

How often this had to happen to him? How… long?

She dragged him closer.

Her hands ran through his body. Clenched around his hips. And pulled. His hips instinctively moved and he slowly filled her again.

This was frightening. But she felt he wanted this. He wanted to awash his pain with her body. With passion. And she wanted to experience him like that.

She wanted to burn with him, even if what she felt was only a small particle of his own feelings.

His shadows closed around her, spread her and entered through her pores, binding him with her. She felt them in every part of her body. They amassed when his agony intensified.

And they lost in it.

His hips, dragging him against her walls… his tensed body, hard but filled with passion… the pain was drilling him, but she knew that he wants her even more, when it circled in his veins.

“Pour yourself into me” she whispered.

Maybe it was some sort of twisted perversion for her  – fucking with him when he suffered… but giving herself to him at the same time.  Making it easier for him to pass through it. She never felt so wrong but good at the same time.

It was him. Only him. Only he could make it work.

She wanted to understand him for so long. Now, she brushed deeper under his surface.

She felt and saw as his body changed into something unreal. Her fingers buried in his hair, now sank in pure shadows. His eyes – white glowing dots in the dark skin, his hands blackening, like touched with coals.

She allowed him to sink into her, become one with her, in this beautiful, frightening way. Finding in herself amounts of pure darkness, she never would admit to possess.

She was not a human anymore. Last bridge fell, leaving open void.

She drowned in him, allowing him to fill her in all ways.

It was dangerous, deadly possibly. But she desired it.

She didn’t know what caused his pain. She didn’t know how this happened, what stood behind his anguish.

But she wanted him.

Only this mattered now.

Nymre entered the vast Hall of Preparation. The forest priests arrived from Natsel’sort two days ago. The New Lunar Year was approaching, sweeping dust off the old one with its hems and wings.

Lunar New Year… Lorian always loved this celebration as a young fae. She knew that, because they met exactly then, she returned to Dal’coler after a long absence and was hungry for sensations… and the king of the fey showed her much of them and even more. She remembered how carefree they were. How passion was still young.

Lunar New Year, with its freedom, with its joy, with its darkness. Lorian still liked this day, but celebrated it in a much different way. She as well, her vain nature bathing in the luxury and ominous gloom of Dal’coler. She wanted him to steal her like he was doing with women in the past and love her in some forbidden place. He was doing it so many times during celebrations, not caring at all at royal protocol.

She wondered what he plans for now. What he plans for her.

The woods’ priests… hidden behind the thick black veils, they were unrecognizable, dark creatures of the darkest place in Ain’asel. They felt the special bond with the Sacred Woods and tales told that they talked with the trees, the oldest ones, equal to gods. That’s how Lorian knew that he doesn’t need a heir. The dark forest fed on his darkness, on his conquest, like a sanguisuge. It was Lorian’s most enchanted lover.

But even if they wanted him to have heirs… he wouldn’t have them with her. She was sterile, infertile, a price she was paying for being one of the most powerful women in the realm. Usually, she thought it was comfortable. But sometimes… The thought of Lorian taking another woman to place a child in her womb, was making her angry. Not because she would have other woman – he had human women in the past. But because his heir would not be hers.

She would kill that woman, as always she was doing.

But… something in this was wrong.

Something in this was… sad.

Sex is one thing. Bond is another.

One of the forest priests started walking in her direction and she brushed another bad thought that started to worm inside her head, slithering over her mind.

“Lady Nymre” a sussuring voice reached her from behind a intricately sewn veil. “I felt you. Before you came. Your aura flickers, pained, hungry. Swelling with anxiety.”

Her eyes widened. Big, too big to be real. Beautiful, with misplaced beauty only fey possessed.

Anxiety.

She had the world under her feet. Powerful lover. Magic that could destroy a human city and actually did in the past. Beauty and mystery.

Anxiety.

An anger started to boil inside her, but only partially directed at the priest.

When the world falls down, beauty dies with it.

“We all have our banes” her voice was harsher than she planned, she shouldn’t talk with this tone to a woods priest. But honestly… Now she didn’t care.

When the world falls down… power becomes irrelevant.

“Of course” Nymre could hear the hidden joy in his voice, a dark eagerness to sip more of her well hidden pain. “We can see through emotions like you can see through the iron. You want to know what I found in yours?”

“No” Nymre felt the situation doesn’t favor her. But something, at the same time, dragged her into this.. maybe, only maybe this creature can uncover things before her, which she still tried to understand. “Yes.”

The priest, this time, openly laughed. The sound was sharp, like a talon drawn through the glass.

“Lady Nymre was always bold, as tales tell. She captured our king into a dripping net of desire. Dangerous Lady Nymre. Drinking blood from his hands.”

A slight shiver came down his spine. The priests of the woods had a reputation among High Fae, and it was not a good one. Even if they needed them to appease the forest, and explain its wishes.

“Good, brave Lady Nymre” his voice silenced more, still sharp and thin as a dagger’s blade. “You are sad, so sad, that you can’t give an heir to your lord. You think though that he will never want one… that he loves his power much more than any son or daughter. But… we see the future. And I see an heir to Lorian Ain’Dal. Young, agile boy, filled with energy.”

Nymre didn’t react. Her eyes drilling into his veil, like trying to burn it and dig into his face.

“Ah, truth. Cruel, cruel truth. And I see a lot of death, dangerous Lady Nymre. Not long from now. A lot of delicious, cruel, vicious deaths.”

Nymre… just stood.

“Maybe more trees will grow in our woods. More fae souls replenishing emerald among our groves. Green within blue and blue within the bark. Fae-borne trees are strongest and most vital. Which tree would you like to give your aura to, when your time comes?”

He had to toy with her. Had to. Death. And Lorian’s child. Not hers. Will she also grow a tree? Will she die, so so soon?

Her heart beating fast. Foolish heart, stupid. Emotions as visible as rain on the leaves, soul so open, tempting this foul Changeling to pour venom into it.

She felt as a taloned hand closed over her arm. Her gaze landed on the face, hidden behind the material. Thick, with laced texture. So thick, that one could not see anything behind it. But… she could swear that she saw the eyes, red, maddened, suffering… yes, suffering.

And even if she saw them only for an insignificant glimpse… She knew the pain that they held.

Red or black.

Deep and bottomless or flaming.

They were almost the same.

She saw the same pain in Lorian’s eyes. The same hunger, hurtful hunger, which she never has seen before. Only now. Only since the last few years, intensifying inside his eyes, a painful well of horrors.

They knew. They surely knew why he was not the same anymore. Knew why he withdrew from her. Hiding secrets. Secrets of his inner struggles.

“Take the hands off me” she hissed. Her aura intensified too, sticky and light, but powerful… enough to swipe the city off the face of the land. The priest laughed again, harshly, deeply amused… but took his hand away.

And bowed before her, with a deepest bow, only abided by Changelings.

To the dead.

He bowed before her like before their god, the forest… or a dead person, who’s aura returned to the trees and fertilized them.

Was it a gesture of utter respect… or… ?

A lot of delicious, cruel, vicious deaths.

Was it a joke? A cruel game?

Or… he saw her in this vision, a vision given to him by the woods.

Of her dying.

He seemed to bathe in her worry. She should never lower her guard down like this. She should…

Her heart beat in a wild rhythm, when she observed as Changeling priest returns to his people and they start preparing for the first celebrational prayer in Dal’coler, carried every day, until the New Lunar Year starts.

Their voices, sharp as iron blades, which could harm all the fae. Aside from Lorian, her and few others, the Ancient Ones, long living, gathering power for ages.

But… Why did she feel that this blade cut her skin already and released poison?

Mina felt different in the new room, she was moved to. No more dark presence waiting for her, leaning over her while she slept – of which she was aware when she was falling asleep and waking up, even if it was retreating immediately.

The chamber was not big, but less overwhelming. She felt as half of the burden caused by the heavy atmosphere was taken off her shoulders.

The windows were open, letting in the chill, but not freezing air. The fey who came up to bring her food explained with a wide smile that the winter chill is kept away from interiors by magical barriers. One could enjoy the breeze, without being exposed to the real cold.

The fey didn’t play with riddles with her, like Oosel. She was up to the point and even open about her role here. She told her that Lord Ain’Dal will visit her soon, to see how she feels. The apple juice was taken differently by every human, some could react on it with hallucinations and mirages.

She didn’t experienced them… yet.

Mina knew that she didn’t want him to visit her… but at the same time, she was curious. With childlike curiosity – strong and stubborn. She wanted to know many things – most of all, catch him on a lie. To assure herself that this room, the new fey, all – is just another game.

She ate apples – normal, sunburnt apples, with slightly yellow skin – they were truly delicious. And some fruits, which reminded her of pears, but had a strange taste. But equally tasty.

When she ate, she felt better. No more starving. She ate that odd apple. Maybe that was all they wanted. When she asked the servant fairy about it, she laughed and said that the core apples have many magical traits and maybe she will like how it changes her situation in Dal’coler.

That was something she still pondered about. Just as she thought that this fairy speaks no riddle, here it came.

Without a scary presence in her room, she managed to relax, even if fear still was eating her from inside out. But fear won’t save her. Fear won’t make her stronger. Alina feared the fae, but she killed the fear – that’s why she was alive now.

She wanted to be as strong as her mother. Strong enough to make her fear her shield and form it into courage. Fight it.

She felt as her eyelids slowly close, tiredness crept in, the burden of last days and cruel nights paying its toll… when she heard the door to her room open. The fairy who brought her dinner came with water or more fruits? But they all always knocked.

No.

It was him.

Him, as promised.

Her eyes fixed on him, this time without panic, If he wanted her dead, he would allow these fairies, winged horrors, to kill her in that corridor. Whatever he wanted, it was not her being dead.

His smile was like a sun descending from the sky, when he lightly approached, his moves as breezy as the slightly cold air coming from the open windows. He nonchalantly sat on the chair just in front of her and picked the pear-like fruit from her plate.

“You again” she spoke, trying not to fear.

Fear is a death wish. Fear is being dead before death.

“Indeed” he chuckled. “I assume you are not happy to see me. Your room is your fortress and I am an unwanted guest.”

His straightforwardness took her off guard. As always.

“I made sure you are not subjected to any pressure anymore” he continued, rolling the pear in his hand. “I told you I have what I wanted. You probably want to know why I desired you to eat the apple and why I need your brother. Maybe that will clarify your situation to you.”

“Tell me” her voice was not shaking.

“You are now bound to my land” he just said, and in a way, that at first, she didn’t grasp it fully. “I need your brother to stop events that endanger both us, and your people. Yes, humans will die too. Very soon, if I won’t use your brother’s powers for my cause. And he surely won’t agree to cooperate. That’s why you are here.”

She looked at him with disbelief.

“Tiyan doesn’t have power. He is human.”

“Oh, he is a human, ” Lorian smiled disarmingly. “But also something more.”

“I don’t think you tell me truth. Tiyan is normal.”

“For us, having magic is normal” Lorian’s eyes dug deeper into her. “And magic is a capricious lady. She can manifest in many ways. But… At the same time, I don’t want you and him dead. I need you both too much.”

Mina felt even more confused. Why does he tell her all of that? She vaguely reminded herself of the words of Noyd, Tiyan’s friend – no one tells you his secrets fully, if they count you will live to tell.

But he also told her that he needs her.

And Tiyan.

“Your situation is clear as a morn” , continued Lorian. And he bit the pear-like fruit, thick, silvery juice stained his perfect lips, curved up in a pure, beautiful smile. “If you want to oppose me, I can’t force you not to. Which very much annoys me. But they say truth can open hearts much wider than the threat. I decided to take a risk.”

Mina… she didn’t believe him. Or rather, supposed to want to not believe him. But it all fit into what happened so far. He might as well be telling her the truth, because he saw it as an easier way for her mind and heart.

Either way, she saw a chance for herself. If he needs them both so much… Maybe no one else dares to scare her anymore, or try to eat her. It was so terrifying that even her closed nature barely could stand the intensity of the threats she was subjected to.

Lorian was drilling her with a gaze that was neither pleasant nor hostile. Just bare reality, no sugar, no bitter herbs.

She wanted so much to catch him on saying lies.

As far as she knew, he was the king. And a king of these horrifying creatures had to be worse than them all.

“How can I know you will let us go after you…  do what you want from us?”

“After I use you both” he laughed. The juice from the pear trickled slightly on one his fingers, staining it silver. “We live in a world of awakening powers. Your brother is stronger than you or him think. I would love to bound him to me forever. But… this doesn’t depend on me fully.”

Again. Riddles.

Why did he never speak in a way that she could understand?

“I know my word is not trustworthy” he stood up, leaving the half-bitten pear on the plate. The fruit looked wounded, pouring silver blood. Did all fruits here seem like flesh? “And I don’t expect your trust. I expect you to follow my will. And… maybe the stay here won’t be so frightening to you anymore. This place hides many wonders. Only from you depends if you unlocked them… or stay in the shadows.”

Like to punctuate his words, the darkness crept from behind him. Strings of smoky shadows, like night following him, creeping in, swallowing the light.

“You are welcome to join me after the celebration of New Lunar Year, Mina,” he said before leaving. “This room may be safe… but it’s a prison, and prisons are maybe the best way to avoid danger… but they take freedom, just as fill with fear.”

Mina never felt so confused. When he disappeared and with him the smoky night, she sat on the bed with curled up feet… and stared at the window. The air filled with snow, falling on the magical barrier, disappearing when making contact with it. She shouldn’t. Shouldn’t allow him.

But she knew… that the fear is death.

And death was final.

She didn’t want to fear.

Alina would fear, yes, but she forged it into armor.

Maybe she could too.

As long as what he said was even slightly true… which she sensed was.

The wind blew into the window, but was captured by magic, which changed the snow it carried into a flurry of white petals, dancing to an unknown music.

Leira couldn’t sleep.

When she returned to her room, her heart pounded with sharp anxiety mixed with elation. Lady Vern’ese thought all this time that she was using her against Lorian – right words in right moments, maneuvering a low slave into her well crafted, clever net, readying her to tell everything she knows about her owner… but Leira neither was low nor stupid. Lady Vern’ese was sure that Leira hates Lorian and will be willing to betray him…  a servant cruelly wounded by the ruthless lord. But she was staying close only to use the secret passages known to royal family only, to listen to her plans, her hopes and her fears. To listen to her talking with others. Reveal all nets before Lorian. Even those who never talked with or were near to him, in who’s minds he was unable to anchor himself.

Leira never felt so much thrill… unwilling, deep pleasure from being able to lie to a fae – her immortality making her immune to any lie detection. Which only her and Lorian knew. He kept it a secret, as he was the only one being able to see that she lied to him after drinking the water from under the core tree, pulling truth straight from her head.

It didn’t anger him. More fascinated. He was taking delight from another advantage he involuntarily gave her. His spy became even more useful… even more interesting.

Fascinated Lorian was a dangerous thing. She suspected Lady Vern’ese already learned this lesson. Lorian was fascinated with her lack of precaution and the ease Leira wrapped her around her finger.

And surely with Leira’s body willingly taking the pleasure he offered her, not more than three nights ago.

She took off her simple servant clothes. Obvious treason. Lady Vern’ese committed obvious treason. Which caused Lorian’s amusement and dark enthrallment. Another game. Another perfect deception.

And the fae still underestimated her. Lorian kept her in secret, allowing them to know only surface of the truth.

She put on the white gown, in which she slept. Her bed looked inviting… she needed to relax after intensity she lived through.

But Leira couldn’t sleep. Her heart still beat in her chest, wild, untamed muscle.

Thirty years…

She was here for more than thirty years. Seemed eternity. Her body gained fae traits, as to mock her humanity…  Many years ago, she despised what she became, what she had to sacrifice, to become who she is. To live. Her own strength and ruthlessness frightened her… but it was long time ago. Now they were filling her with something forbidden, which she didn’t want to let go off her fingers.

And she liked feeling him between her legs, spreading her with darkness, filling her with himself.

She wanted him to call her now. Show her that her darkness has a reason. Fuck him, have him and squeeze all his glamour off him, leaving only bare bones of truth.

She buried in bed sheets, her tired, tensed body relaxing, knowing no could enter her room… aside of Lorian.

Long time ago, it would hurt her from fear. Now…

A sudden pressure in her head, a caress, a stroke and an intrusion.

Her mind opened, instinctively, taught by years of doing so.

She heard the voice, low, not completely tamed. After what happened on the balcony, for the first time since then. He only addressed her with words all the three days and she wondered if he felt the same fierce doubt that was eating her… or he calculated that too.

“It was too long, Leira…”

Her guts twisted. Violently. Not from fear.

She slowly left her bed, her long white sleeping gown making her look like an apparition in the moonlight. Huge orb hung over Dal’coler – swallowing will to rest. But she knew well enough why they both didn’t sleep.

Perhaps he felt that it’s too much too.

He could just enter, like he always did in the past. That changed too.

She opened the door. His face was pale, even paler than usually, his feathered black robe framing his slender body in a flawless way. His black eyes reflected the moon from her window; as pale as his skin.

“My lord” she bowed slightly.

“Night is cruel for me…” he just smiled at her, walking in, the scent of violets even stronger than usual. “Perhaps you have a human remedy for a restless mind. Something only your kind knows… something… that will fill me enough to let thoughts rest.”

“I am not a herbalist, my lord” her eyes lay on his face, on his suddenly tensed features. “I started to use fairy remedies, when my nights were especially hard.”

“And they didn’t harm you…” he whispered. “Humans can withstand so much.”

Leira couldn’t tell if it was aimed at her. At her past. Their past. But something was telling her that it was exactly that.

“Would you want me to send for a soothing potion for you, my lord?” her voice caught up in her throat.

“Soothing potions numb senses, push one into false comfort… and I want to feel it all” he looked at her still, intensely. His dark eyes again a black wells.

He still played a game. A game that she couldn’t decipher, something dangerous and tempting. It made her veins burn with fire even stronger though; she wanted to dismantle his mask, all of them, and delve deep into his core, burying her fingers into his soul.

“My lord—”

Something cracked between them. He dragged her closer, possessively, yes, but she wanted it. Her body pressed to his, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

And the dam broke. Again.

Her hands quickly started to disrobe him, pulling his trousers off, her lips tasting his own. She felt as he removed her gown, unbuttoning it fast, until it lay splayed on the floor.

He pushed her on the bed; her legs already spread, she pulled him violently by his still present shirt, on her body, between her tights. His eyes gleaming with passion, she felt his hunger in her spine, as it melted it.

Her hands caressed him, fast and impatient, making him hard, his lips on her breasts, tasting her nipples, biting them. She felt how painfully tense he was.

All her doubts dissipating. They will return, with time. Again and again, until she mute them, all, pushing them into nothingness.

But now, she wanted him. Hard. No holding back.

She squeezed his bottom, digging into flesh. His hands on her legs, spreading them even more. Then, a strong, wild, hungry push.

“You withstanded so much, Leira” he smiled at her, a dark tone in his voice. And something more. Respect…?

He admired her.

Her skin crept, he pushed again, harder. Deep. She felt him filling her up, making her even wetter than she already was.

“I can withstand even more,” her throat forming a deep and dangerous sound.

He laughed, beautifully, and drowned in her.

Their bodies found a rhythm, satisfying each other, feeding their mutual desire. The past… it was in the past, cruel, hard. She will never forgive him, how could she? But… her darkness yearned for his shadows, for his night. Her body became one with his, giving herself to him and owning him at the same time.

He didn’t use prevention. Not today.

But she didn’t want him to stop. Her urge to ask him to not spill inside was lost in the passion. She knew he wouldn’t, better than any other person. Even if they both wanted it, both desired this kind of union. Her legs on his lower back, dragging him in, hard, harder. She wanted to be fucked, not made love to.

And he knew it, perfectly.

He read her mind.

And offered her what she craved for.

His victory. Her victory. A silent triumph of their senses.

“Do you still despise me, Leira?” he whispered into her ear, a perfect tease, dragging his shadows inside her with an especially tasty stroke, pushing himself hard against her walls. Her mind drifting into forbidden areas of her soul.

“Very…” the forbidden areas bloomed with black flowers.

“Delicious…” a low, passionate sigh.

And she came.