Birth is the beginning of suffering
Life is our sentence
~ Saylor Danes
A warm hand traced the length of my arm, up and down with slow, gentle touches, easing me from my sleep. I could smell Vidar beside me and sighed with relief, realizing that I hadn’t dreamt at all. It had to be a blessing from Lune to have not been plagued by the usual haunted visions.
I gradually opened my eyes, craning my neck to look over my shoulder and see him stretched out behind me, veiled in shadows like everything else in the room.
My blouse was bunched up to my waist and cool, island air licked across the backs of my thighs before the heat of Vidar’s bare skin pressed against me. His hard length teased my entrance and I purred with anticipation, but as soon as I made a sound, his calloused hand was cupped over my mouth. He pushed inside with a brutal thrust. The suddenness was almost painful, but I couldn’t complain. Everything he did to me awakened the parts of me that were otherwise withering and dying. I leaned into it, reaching backto grip his thigh as he began to move. His other hand coiled around, slipping beneath the thin material of my shirt to fondle my breast. His touch was rough and desperate. Possessive. Hot breath growled into my ear as he fucked me out of my slumber, owning every inch of my body.
“You are beautiful,” he rasped, moving his hand from my mouth to my neck.
“That you see beauty in a creature like me will never cease to warm whatever fragments I have left of my heart.”
I turned my head, trying to see him better, but the darkness was relentless and thick. All manner of conversation and music had gone silent outside. It must have been very late and Vidar needed rest, but he seemed determined to indulge in our time together again and I did not want to stop him.
“I won’t let him have you, Dahlia. You are mine.”
“I know.”
I closed my eyes, letting the pleasure of his presence overtake me and carry me to that wondrous pinnacle. His thrusts became slower but more violent. Something awful was haunting him, too, but I longed to be the outlet through which he could discard his worries and his pain.
He hit me deep and I gasped, shuddering against the intense feeling. He drove into me again and again. It felt like the air was being knocked out of me every time.
“Vidar,” I breathed, my nails grading his flesh.
He did not answer. He continued to fuck me with abandon, each snap of his hips threatening to overwhelm me. Tears stung my eyes as I opened them, but a shadow standing in the doorway startled any pleasure out of me. Long, knotted hair hung over a pale face like a veil.
“Lyla,” I gasped.
Vidar did not relent. He kept rocking his hips, harder. Deeper. I could not catch my breath and as I struggled from his grasp, his arms tightened around me, his hand squeezing my throat.
“Lyla,” I said again, trying to get him to understand.
She stared at me, expressionless. Her eyes were empty voids, all light stolen from their depths.
I pushed back against Vidar, panic leeching all the air from around me.
“Vidar—”
He grabbed my arm, throwing me onto my back. In seconds, he was on top of me, prying my legs apart. He was still bathed in darkness, a faint gleam reflecting off his eyes as he forced his cock into me again. He felt painfully large.
“Vidar, stop!” I screamed.
He captured both of my hands, pinning them on either side of my head as he ravaged me, taking all that he wanted without a second thought. All the while, Lyla still stood there, slowly backing herself further into the dark corner. The room suddenly felt heavier and less hollow. Sound no longer echoed as if it had no place to go. Vidar drew back, slamming into me with force, penetrating me deep. Too deep. I stiffened, my insides churning at the invasion. Those tears that merely stung seconds ago now blurred my vision and wet my lashes.
Too much.
I let out a deafening scream, writhing under his weight.
The darkness thickened, closing in around me like tar into a ditch. Like the heavy weight of the deep ocean, cold and stifling. Through my tears, I could see him.
No… not Vidar. Darkness. Shadows. Shapes that made no sense. Red eyes that pierced like hot blades. My blood turned to ice, filling me with rigid agony. I whipped my head toward Lyla, who’d all but disappeared.
“Please,” I begged, my voice a stranger to me. “Please, make it stop!”
She slowly shook her head. “It’s not me, sister.” She skulked out of the shadows just enough for me to see a silvery shine in her otherwise black eyes. “I ate of your flesh.Heate of mine. Whereone dream begins and the other ends, we may never know. We are connected, the lot of us. Me to him. You to me. You to your hunter. Do you have the heart to kill me now, sister?” She leaned a little closer, her fingers gently dancing across my forehead. “You’re his now.”
