Temptation Waits
Lady Nymre was not gentle and sweet, the truth she showed her was more than obvious, in every way. A brutal, deadly truth, stripped of all finesse.
Leira had almost expected that. But now she felt naked and exposed. If Nymre wanted to make her suffer, she would. She doubted that she feared her lover. She was a promise of pain, a promise of fall. She would do it, just to claim Lorian again. He might be angry, he might miss her, his spy… but she would not punish Nymre. Leira knew their relationship and their bond.
Her life in Dal’coler was no longer terrifying and now it was back – the feeling of powerlessness. She hated it. She was the one who dealt the cards for so many others. But a jealous lover could be her final end.
Just because she fought and lost.
Her footsteps were silent, leading her to a secluded balcony, separated from the winter cold by a magical barrier that allowed only slightly chilly air.
Her breath caught in her throat, she could almost feel all the threads slipping from her fingers, the lost path of someone who thought she had only one thing to fear.
Being boring.
She laughed, bitterly. You were never safe.
You were delusional, thinking you could get close to him, not annoy her, not make her jealous. You thought you could play with shadows and not be strangled. They were Fae, they were inhuman in every way. Possessive and dark.
She felt deflated. Maybe because now she had a life she didn’t want to lose and was hoping… for something. Something elusive, as out of reach as it was close, falling into her hands with poisoned glitter.
She breathed in the fresh night scent that the barrier let in. The night thrived outside, wild and pure. It came to her with the scent of fresh snow and pine.
And the scent of violets.
And jasmine.
A bile rose in her throat. Almost choking her.
Lorian approached, quiet as a cat, his handsome features lit from within by a strange inner light. His posture was not threatening, more… relaxed. And he looked slightly different. Something was off and yet completely in place. She realised she was looking at him and lowered her eyes as quickly as she could.
“You’ve never come here before. This is your first time. Is your head so full of nightmares that you need a beautiful sight?”
She found herself shocked by this approach. Normal. So normal. As if he had shed his cruel, calculated skin, leaving only a shimmering afterglow.
He had to get into her mind to see how often she hid in places like this. She knew he sometimes did that instead of asking – it was much easier for him, and he didn’t bother to be an invader of privacy. But that was not what suddenly made her uneasy. There was something else about him now that… frightened her.
It was almost inappropriate, his casual behaviour as he leaned over a balustrade and looked at her with a playful, natural smile. Somehow it scared her. This was not normal, strange. He was going to say something terrible, something twisted. With a second, darker meaning.
But he…
… was just smiling beautifully, looking at her with his usual intensity. She couldn’t help but look, secretly. Out of the corner of her eye.
“If it’s your place, my lord…”
“It’s a place for anyone I choose. It can be yours too,” he summed up her concerns with a raise of one eyebrow, his tone amused. As if he were not over a thousand years old, but barely twenty.
She felt… a little unreal. This was unreal. He never met her like this. Why was that? She could never imagine him being so normal, even if she knew he was capable of it.
“You, Leira, are an enigma,” he mused, looking up at the stars, slight shadows dancing in his hair. “I like riddles. More than open books lying in the candlelight.”
“I’m glad you find me interesting, my lord,” she said, her senses alert.
“Oh,” he chuckled, darkly, a bit of his normal self surfacing. “You really are a good, devoted servant. One that any sane fey would want to push on the path to eternity. And you… you are eternal, Leira. Like Fae. Like me.”
His gaze now almost robbed her of all confidence.
It was tense, fiery. Tempting and tantalising, she felt as the night air became lighter. Not as oppressive as in the palace. Light, like far away, in her homeland.
Suddenly he moved away from the balustrade and came closer, a step closer, but it was too much for her.
Or too little.
She thought of Nymre. Of her angry eyes, trying to peel off her skin with just a look. Of her silent fury, capable of tearing her life in half if she chose.
She swallowed, hard.
This couldn’t be happening.
It was unnatural.
Dangerous.
Seeing her hesitation, maybe even fear, he formed a smile that looked youthful, mischievous and intriguing. How much had he read into her mind? How much did he know?
She found herself pressed against the balustrade where Lorian laughed lightly, a beautiful sound. Something that could lure a mortal into a pit of sin.
“So much fear. I think I told you once, long ago. That I would never harm you. But perhaps you hate me so much that even this distance is too much for you. You have a right to. After all, I loved it when you hated me.”
His eyes shone with delighted playfulness.
“I-”
She didn’t know how to react. He was so natural. So…
As if he wore a special mask for her… or had discarded all the others.
“Tell me, Leira…” his smile grew darker, but not in a way she expected. “Do you hate me, even a little? Would you prefer me to have fallen, to be dead? Or… would you prefer my soul to be swallowed by the gods?”
Leira felt him come closer. She had no way to escape.
And she didn’t want to.
Suddenly her world was turned upside down. His closeness frightened her, but at the same time it ignited something inside her that had been waiting for a long time, growing inside her, sending tendrils and roots into her veins, feeding on her like a leech.
“Do you hate me, Leira, with a strong, beautiful hatred?” he purred, his voice deep and seductive.
She still didn’t dare look at him. He could do that on purpose. To tempt her with normalcy, even with this sudden, unbelievable affection, only to crush her later against his cruel ways. But somehow she felt he wasn’t doing that. He didn’t, Goddess forgive her.
He was so close to her, she could look into his eyes and see every flickering spark in them, if she had the courage. He touched her face slowly, almost a caress, and it made her heart sink.
“Do not fear me. That is the last thing I would wish for you.”
And she knew she had lost. She hated him for it. She really did. But…
This was… something she imagined sometimes. Darkest dreams, darkest fantasies she painted in her head when she was alone, with wild, messy, dirty brushes. But she hated herself for it, for betraying her ideals, for even daring to think of it. For being weak and unworthy of being human, for taking pleasure in it. For being brainwashed by a deadly enemy who could kill her with a thought. For being a traitor who would rather fuck the Fae King than help those he had tormented.
She was twisted, after a long time of seeing things she shouldn’t have.
But it wasn’t love. It was a great need. A need that grew within her like his shadows.
It was pure lust. Lust for him that had awoken in her long ago.
And she had repressed it for so long that it almost hurt.
“I know you desire me, I can feel it,” he smiled, a smile of a dying star, a perfect collapse. “Do you desire me, Leira?”
She looked at him, hating herself but loving every moment of it. She lifted her gaze to his face. Forbidden, like the dark night itself.
“Yes,” her voice was muffled, low. She felt the world closing in on her. Like it was tearing at her limbs with a million claws.
Even in his pitch black darkness, his black holes glowed with desire. Fuck it. Fuck it hard. He wanted her. Perhaps now, in this moment, more than Nymre.
He was dark. He was cruel. But she wasn’t pure either. Not in any way. She did things that other people would find terrible. She became dark, just like this palace, just like this place, forgotten by the goddess.
And she didn’t want to be afraid anymore. She wasn’t weak. She sacrificed all her innocence to become strong, to stay alive. Fear was no longer an option.
He leaned over her, the touch of his lips so warm. She knew they would be warm, not cold, like the winter he ruled. His scent of violets was even stronger now.
Something wicked crept into her soul, a victorious joy, a forbidden rapture that she was supposed to soothe but didn’t want to. She wanted to feel him inside her.
And betray everything she believed in. Surrender to the darkness.
He lifted her dress and the light, cool air flowed over her exposed skin. She could feel the hard stone of the balustrade against which she was pressed from behind. His hands ran over her hips, caressing her thighs, slowly, with visible hunger. He pulled her close. Very close. Her breasts flattened against his chest, she could feel how warm he was, even through his clothes.
They didn’t need any foreplay. They both just wanted to fuck. Stripped of all thoughts, just carnal desire. She wanted him to have her, to melt her brain away and make her forget who she was.
He pressed her harder against the balustrade, as if he wanted to squeeze her between the bars. She couldn’t help a deep, low moan that he swallowed with a deep kiss that tasted like frozen berries, like something very cold melting on her tongue in extreme heat.
Unreal.
Wrong.
Unnatural.
But she wanted it. She had wanted it for years.
She wanted to feel the darkness in her veins.
She quickly began to pull his trousers off, chaotically; he allowed it, with a hungry, evil grin. She was so ready, and she loved it, she loved that he could feel it. A visible display of her desire, the lack of any restraint. His finger trailed over her, just between her legs, his playful gaze fixed on her. Her hand landed on his, squeezing harder; she felt his fingers slowly massaging her and she kissed him again, wilder this time, almost devouring him.
Berries.
And the warm taste of his inner fire.
He lifted her up, rubbing against her with delicious precision. She felt him slide over her. Her moan was louder now, making him chuckle. She was so full of need. And she was beginning to lose any sense of guilt about it.
Her legs encircled him at the waist, just where he was hard, and he entered her, hard, his eyes fixed on hers, swallowing up all the doubt that was left in her.
“Then… open for me.”
His voice, low and deep, sent a shiver down her spine. His shadows slowly began to creep in, released by his desire, to dance on her skin.
His thrusts were perfect, powerful. He seemed to melt into her, draining her soul and replacing it with liquid darkness. As his shadows entered her alongside him, she bit her nails into his back and pulled him with her, feeling the tingling of the barrier on her back, opening herself more to him, allowing him to take her even harder.
She could feel everything he was feeling, his pleasure, even his thoughts swirling around her in a lustful jiggle. It was unreal, too, like being washed over again and again with tiny climaxes.
It had been so long since she had done this.
She had almost forgotten.
And now, of all the Fae who could desire her… she was with him.
His grin was seductive, alluring, swallowing all the light from her soul. Perfect. He wanted her and it was pure. He didn’t want Nymre now. He wanted her.
His hips drove him into her in a rhythm that dragged a muffled cry from her throat. She felt as the pleasure slowly became stronger. It was such a long time. So long since she had anyone. And it was perfect. He guessed her. She needed it. She needed him, of all.
He buried himself inside her with a hard, slow thrust and leaned over her, grabbing her bottom, his fingers digging into her skin. It was so good. She loved to feel him pressed against her, her dress lifted over her hips and her legs crossed over his back, forcing him inside her. Her tail wrapped around his legs, squeezing him hard; she hoped he felt it.
She melted into his hands as they moved over her body, tasting her curves and skin, holding her in a tight grip, pressing her against his chest, squeezing the pleasure from her that was slowly pooling between her legs, like the sweetest and darkest pleasure. Her moans were soft and desperate, filled with strong need.
“I admire you. I admire you, Leira,” he whispered and it was so real, the only thing she ever needed to hear. She closed over him and climaxed, pulsating around him. His sharp fangs suddenly drove into her just above her collarbone. And drew crimson. Blood pooled and Leira’s climax intensified, touched by Lorian’s shadow power, slowly penetrating the laceration on her pale skin.
She let it all in. Delicious as a liquefied midnight. His loins pulsed like a beating heart, and all she wanted was to be the cause of his pleasure.
“My lord…” she moaned as he pressed closer to her abdomen, thrusting one last time. He pushed her harder against the balustrade, his shadow talons buried in her hips, drawing droplets of red. Painful, yes, but somehow… making her want more.
She felt his release, hot, mixed with shadows and darkness, pleasurable. It spread inside her and she remembered, as if through a fog, that she hadn’t gotten the preventive tea.
But all sane and coherent thoughts were drowned in the pleasure he was giving her. Fuck it. Fuck it all.
So long. It was as if she was feeling this for the first time again, with someone, not with her hand or a pillow.
He admired her. This sadistic fucker admired her after all he had done. After taking her on the wildest, maddest trip, full of screams and night.
And she loved it, loved being taken against the cold stone.
She loved it, absolutely. She was not brainwashed, she was no longer a victim.
She was dark too.
And he knew it.
He knew she was dark and lost.
So he decided to show her the way.
His tongue, longer than any human’s, traced a path across her wounded collar, his eyes playful, but his aura gathering around her with pure darkness. Cruel.
Just as she loved most.
“More, my lord. Please,” she groaned. Her body aching for more of him.
And he gave her more.
Throwing her into the bottomless pit of no return.