Join me in night painted with crimson and black.

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.

He was killing her everytime he was filling her with night.

And death… never felt so good.

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

Lunar New Year… Lorian had always loved this celebration as a young fae. She knew that, because they met exactly then. She had returned to Dal’coler after a long absence and was hungry for sensations… and the king of the fey showed her many 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 had done with women in the past and love her in some forbidden place. He had done it so many times during celebrations, not caring at all about royal protocol.

She wondered what he planned now. What he planned 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 a special bond with the Sacred Woods, and tales told that they spoke with the trees – the oldest ones, equal to gods. That’s how Lorian knew he didn’t need an 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 paid for being one of the most powerful women in the realm. Usually, she thought it was comfortable. But the thought of Lorian taking another woman to place a child in her womb made her angry. Not because he would have another woman – he had human women in the past. But because his heir would not be hers.

She would kill that woman, as she always did.

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 aside another bad thought that had started to worm inside her head, slithering over her mind.

“Lady Nymre,” a whisper reached her from behind an 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 that misplaced beauty only the fey possessed.

Anxiety.

She had the world under her feet. A powerful lover. Magic that could destroy a human city – and had, in the past. Beauty and mystery.

Anxiety.

An anger started to boil inside her, but it was 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 had planned; she shouldn’t speak in 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 iron. Do you want to know what I found in yours?”

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

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

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

A slight shiver ran down his spine. The priests of the woods had a reputation among the Unseelie, 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 lowered, 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. A young, agile boy, filled with energy.”

Nymre didn’t react. Her eyes drilled into his veil, as if trying to burn through 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 be toying 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 beat 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 a taloned hand close 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 she saw the eyes – red, maddened, suffering… yes, suffering.

And even if she saw them only for an insignificant glimpse… she knew the pain 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 had never seen before. Only now. Only in 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 your hands off me,” she hissed. Her aura intensified – sticky and light, but powerful… enough to wipe 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 the deepest bow, only abided by Changelings.

To the dead.

He bowed before her like before their god, the forest… or a dead person whose 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… did he see 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 have let her guard down like this. She should…

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

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

But… why did she feel that this blade had already cut her skin 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 a soundless 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 wrecked, 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 shattered.