It was truly a sight to behold, a castle built from the wood of existing trees and rock, carved into the forest like a living, breathing entity.
“Welcome home, Violet,” the voice whispered as I took a step closer, in awe of what was before me.
That’s it, I’ve completely lost my marbles.
Hands slid over my shoulders, holding me still, and the scent of burning cedar and vanilla filled my lungs once more.
Bane.
“Bane...” I turned in surprise to see him standing there, the flames lighting him up like the sinful sight he truly was.
“I don’t understand, I—”
My magic ebbed like an undulating current, my desire culminating within me like a whirlpool.
“I will always find you,anam cara,” he said. “You are my fire,” he breathed out as he sauntered slowly down the stone steps, toward me, shirtless.
His skin wasn’t how I remembered it though. It was dark gray, like stone, cracked like marble. The cracks glowed like fire was in his blood, like a human volcano or something. Strange symbols I did not understand whatsoever, but which reminded me faintly of the runes Norman had given me, glowed across his chest like infernal tattoos. Coupled with his rather sculpted form, it wasn’t a bad look by far. Wings spread out behind him, large, bat-like, and ominous, in stark contrast to the lush forest and palace behind him.
It was a fire that bore this kingdom in its infancy, and it will be a fire that raises it from the ashes,the voice whispered in my head.
Where had I heard that before?
The woman with pink hair stared down at me with bright, violet-colored eyes, like a psychedelic angel, vibrant and full of color and magic.
She reached her finger out to me, touching my forehead.
“Tell me again, mother,” the little pink haired toddler said, her blue eyes sparkling like the ocean’s surface at daybreak.
“Please tell me again about the gancanagh and the faerie,” she pleaded as she grabbed her mother’s hand.
A spark danced in her palm as she closed her fingers around it.
Somewhere inside of me I knew that child was me.
Somewhere buried in the depths of my soul, I knew that was my mother. Myrealmother, and not the woman who’d raised me, who had baked pies and cookies with me and taught me how to play the violin.
The woman I’d mourned when she died.
Which presented so many questions, but my magic didn’t have time to settle on them.
Bane had stopped before me, his glowing, red eyes gazing down at me. I stared up at them as he slid his hand around my waist.
The darkness always seeks the light, my little Violet, and you are the brightest of all lights.
“And you are my spark,” I said, understanding falling on me.
Bane used his free hand to brush hair behind my ear, his gaze holding me like iron restraints as he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine.
They were warm, and like velvet, his tongue in my mouth causing my stomach to flip and that familiar desire in my belly to form once more.
My first kiss was with my neighbor’s nephew, who was visiting from Amsterdam.
I was thirteen, and it wasn’t the sweet, romantic sort of kiss I’d dreamed of. It was awkward, and wet, and not at all a pleasurable experience.
But kissing Bane, even if it was in a weird mental breakdown induced fantasy, was everything I’d always hoped a kiss would be.
Slow, delectably sweet, and hot.
