by Joey W. Hill
"An end to darkness."
She tilted her head. "Okay, but what if you've never experienced anything else? How do you know an end to darkness will be any better?"
"You don't. But it's different, and when your life is unrelenting torment, anything different, any change, has got to provide something." Anna frowned, thinking. "Or perhaps he hasn't experienced it, but he's seen it somehow. He's seen the light others have found, and desires that for his own self."
"Do you think he's real?"
"I'm not sure. Would it please you if he was?"
Lex pressed her lips together. "I don't know. He frightens me. Not like ax murderer fear."
"I'm relieved to hear it," her mother said dryly. "But how does he frighten you?"
"As if I'm somehow powerless with him, and he could take me over in a way I've never experienced. Like being at the top of a really big roller coaster, not sure how the ride's going to be, but knowing it's going to take everything I've got to prove myself brave enough for it."
"Have you dreamed of him before?"
"Nothing like last night's dream, but yes. Brief snippets, impressions, a shadow passing me. I can sense him." Those times, she'd woken in the darkness of her room, heart pounding and hands gripped in her sheets.
"I want you to talk to Mina."
"What?" Lex blanched and sat up. "Oh no, Myel. It's nothing like that."
"You don't know what it is." Anna lifted her upper body as well, tempering her words with a hand on Lex's. "You have an extraordinary gift. During your youth, we've encouraged you to treat it gently, but we've always known it could have a depth you've yet to tap or any of us to understand. It would be wise to let her know about the dream."
Lex grimaced. "She's so sarcastic. Her tongue could be used to slice through metal. And her darkness . . . even with the filters, it's hard for me to keep things straight when I'm around her. She's scary, Myel." Startled, she realized what she felt from Mina wasn't very different from what she felt from her dream man.
Anna chuckled. "She scares all of us, except perhaps David. But we love her, too, and as your godmother, she would do anything to protect you. Think about it?"
Lex nodded reluctantly, then bit her lip. "May I also speak to Lord Lucifer?"
Anna's shock made Lex wince. "You're reluctant to talk to Mina, but you'll ask to meet with the Lord of the Underworld? What on earth would you--"
"I think this man may be there," Lex cut in hastily. "There's so much fire and pain where he is. If he's real, could he be someone in Hell that's somehow tapped into my dreams? Lord Lucifer might know."
"He might." Anna pursed her lips. "I'll ask Jonah to approach Lucifer about it. If Luc is willing, he'll grant you an audience. But Mina first. As soon as possible."
"All right. Hopefully David will be there. It's easier. Less creepy." Relieved, Lex sensed her mother's worries receding again, a manageable tide. "This won't make Pyel worry, will it? I don't want either of you concerned. Even if it is real, it's just some lonely guy reaching out to me. Not much different from all those sea animals and unhappy merpeople who used to follow me home when I was a teenager, feeding off my proximity to make them feel better."
"He will always worry about you, because he loves you more than anything, dearest. So do I." When Anna opened her arms, Lex settled into them again, laying her cheek against her bosom. She traced the lovely jeweled line of blue and purple scales that formed a diagonal line over Anna's hip bone. The slim arm pressed against her body had a swirling silver tattoo marking.
The whisper of the ocean, the blissful heat of the sun and her mother's heartbeat gave her peace, as it always did. They sat that way for some time, two sea creatures in sync with the rhythm of their world, no need to say or do anything. The unique tranquility of it was the main reason Lex knew her parents didn't have to fear the human world's hold on her. When she told her mother that, Anna's arms tightened around her, stroking the downy feathers inside the curve of her wings.
"You understand so many things well, Lex. But sometimes you're blind to what is closest to you. Though he can be very protective, your father listens better than you expect. You could have no better ally. He would hold off the universe to protect you."
As the creature in her dreams would destroy it to have her. She shivered again, not sure where that thought had come from. Anna was right. She did need to talk to Mina, much as she hated to admit it. Tomorrow. Tonight she wanted to think. And perhaps to dream one more time, before her decisions took him away from her.
When Jonah dropped from the sky, landing lightly on the sand, Lex allowed humor to push away her worries, for now. "You two are so well synchronized it's scary," she pronounced.
Over Anna's chuckle, Jonah gave them both an indulgent look and produced two mangoes, as well as a pair of exotic tropical flowers. He tucked the latter behind the delicate ears of each of his women, his large hands lingering on their faces, then indicated the mangoes.
"How about a snack before I take Lex back home?"
Four
THE flower was in a cup beside her bed, the fragrance of mango still lingering on her tongue. Lex had turned on some soothing music and heated chamomile tea, but still she couldn't bring herself to lie down and let sleep have her. As she paced, she almost regretted not seeing Mina tonight. How could she want and fear something at the same time? Normally, something like this would make her err on the side of caution. She knew the margin of error between compassion and instinct. Even so, she'd never had such a strong urge to throw caution to the wind and yet run away from the dream at the same time.
She'd tried meditating, but that had been too difficult. Those hands in her dream kept sliding along her arms, touching her wings, stroking her skin. She'd thought about pleasuring herself as a form of relief, a way to focus, but in the end she stretched out on her bed, tired of struggling. To hell with it. Bring it on.
Gripping Tigger hard in both hands, she focused on his silly face. "Only way to resolve this is to catch the Tigger by the tail. And hope he doesn't bite my face off. Here, kitty, kitty . . ." As drowsiness closed in, she began to murmur it. "Here, kitty, kitty . . ."
It will be okay. Even if he's real, it's just a dream. We're just meeting in a dream. I will help him. It will be okay.
FIRE. He was always surrounded by fire, but tonight the heat was uncomfortably hot and suffocating. Flames shot up in a wall all around her. Panic invaded her mind. But then he was there, several feet away, in the only circle where fire didn't exist. He was naked, all lean male muscle and arousal. His flesh had been cut, marks on his arms and stomach streaming blood. Since she was in her human form this time, she moved to him on burning bare feet. "What happened? You've hurt yourself."
He watched her come with a peculiar still look, like an animal used to capturing its food and waiting patiently for it, no matter how harshly hunger gnawed away at his insides. Though the heat pressed in on all sides, he seemed unaffected. Even his silken black hair, rippling loose over his shoulders with the wind created by the flames, defied the flickers of sparks. She'd like to touch those long strands, weave beads and feathers into it as if he were a Native American. She imagined he came from a tribe of that race because of his broad brow and sculpted proud cheekbones, the firm, cruel lips.
His hands closed over her upper arms. There was a different quality to his touch this time. Not slow and seductive, mixed with a thrilling tease of forcefulness. This was pure dominance as he brought her to him, taking her mouth. Alexis made a keening noise, caught between anxiety and pleasure as he delved deep, his tongue lashing at hers, his lips caressing and demanding at once. His hands moved, following the curve of her spine to her buttocks where they spread out and gripped, enough to lift her onto her toes. Her sensitive sex pressed against the hard bar of iron that was his engorged cock. She gasped. "Please . . . I'm . . . frightened."
"You're mine," he responded ruthlessly, raising his head to stare down at her. Alexis tried to focus past the wave of
demanding heat pulsing from his body, to feel what was going on behind the fiery eyes. Did he want to frighten her? Before she could delve further, he'd lifted her, forcing her to open her thighs and wrap her legs around his hips, her calves resting on his taut buttocks, crossed heels brushing his thighs. She had to hold on to his shoulders for balance, and that put her fingers in his hair as she'd wished. It was like her father's feathers, so soft and pleasurable, an odd contrast to their surroundings. It was the one reassurance she had, such that she gripped it with both fists. Then malevolent intent exploded in her mind. Anger, rage . . . revenge.
"Don't--wait--"
He shifted her body and with one powerful thrust, penetrated her.
His kiss had moistened her enough that he'd been able to get his broad head in her gateway, but she'd never been taken before. The pain was immediate and excruciating, such that she cried out, but he wouldn't let her free. He held her on him, seated to the hilt in her body, his arms banded about her.
"It hurts . . . please stop. Please."
His breath rasped in her ear, a beast in mindless rut, and she struggled to get past the pain and panic of a pinned butterfly. She had to reach him, to understand why he was doing this. Gripping her buttocks again, he began to work her up and down his shaft. She whimpered at the abrasion of raw tissue, at his battering assault on her virginity. While it didn't feel exactly . . . wrong, it was far from right. He was supposed to care about her, protect her. Even if he didn't know it, that was the way it was supposed to be. He wasn't just betraying her . . . he was betraying both of them.
She knew simple ways to defend herself, but against his irresistible power, there was only one way. Though he was strong, the power of a shift was as unstoppable as the force of water. Her wings erupted from her back. The tail transformation swept her lower body, dislodging him. If the quick hitch of his breath and his curse meant anything, the scales had sliced him. She fell from his grasp, but he stumbled to one knee beside her, clamping onto her upper arm. She sucked in a breath, for this time his touch burned. No, not his touch. She'd landed in a bed of flames, and it was licking over her. She was helpless in this form, her wings catching fire, her tail flopping uselessly.
When he lifted her free of the fire, dousing the flames, she saw burn marks on her flesh and smelled singed feathers. "Your fear is different," he said at last. "Not like the others. Their fear stinks, like something rotting. Yours . . . it's sweet and sad at once."
Like a dying flower, she thought, and wondered if he knew what that was.
"I liked your cunt," he added baldly, still holding her with his intense stare. "I want to be inside it again. Change back." His voice was the growl of the mythical monster under the bed, but with a mesmerizing quality that would coax her out from under her protective covers, bring her to her knees to look beneath and meet the eyes of the beast.
Beauty and the Beast. "I can't," she whispered. "I'm afraid."
"You will, because I command it."
It's a dream, a dream, a dream. Hold on to your sanity, Lex. If it's a dream, you can control it. "No." She lifted her chin, forced herself to hold that blazing look. "You hurt me. You weren't gentle. You're supposed to be gentle. And make it pleasurable."
He blinked. She thought she felt surprise. What else did she feel swirling from him? Lust for certain, and while it now scared her, it sent another shiver through her as she remembered his more seductive ways of touching her.
"Show me, then," he said. "What do you mean by gentle?" He stumbled over the word, as if it was part of a foreign language.
"How you were kissing me before, in the earlier dream. It was . . . passionate, but gentle at the same time. Like this." Still trembling, she put her hand to his jaw. It was smooth, no facial hair. Swallowing, she stretched up, aware of his arms banding around her back and her tail below the roundest part of her hips.
She met his lips with a tentative caress, trying to dissipate the cold fear his violent assault had triggered. She had desired him. The edge of it was still there, waiting to be stoked to life by his touch. It's a dream, Alexis. You weren't raped in real life. It was just a dream . . . And it wasn't rape. You wanted him, he wanted you. He just . . . maybe he had no clue what he was doing. Or he thought you did.
But he'd acted with animal determination. No, that wasn't true. Even animals had ways of saying "not interested." He'd acted as if he was conquering her, subduing her like an enemy. She couldn't deny that wave of rage, the lust for vengeance, even as he stayed immobile now. While she nibbled shyly at his lips, he watched her, eyes of fire so close to her face. Grasping courage in both hands, she teased his lips open, licked his fangs, then flirted with his tongue, easing forward so her arms closed around his shoulders. She pushed herself against his chest, trying to reclaim balance in this odd and terrifying dream.
His powerful arm constricted on her back, his lower fingers curving in to stroke the scales low on her hip, a sensitive area that made her fearful shiver become something different. "If I woke, would I have burns from your fingers on my skin?" she whispered against his mouth.
"You would. Your thighs would be sticky with your virgin blood. Shift back for me. Let me lick it off."
She swallowed. "I'm afraid you'll hurt me again."
"You are mine to do with as I will."
"No," she responded softly. "I'm not yours to harm."
"Then shift back, and let me prove to you that I won't."
She held his gaze, her attention distracted by the sensual lips, held hard and tight. He was all hard and tight, not a relaxed muscle on him. But she allowed her body to shift, wings dissolving, her tail giving way to human legs again.
Lowering her to her feet on that patch of nonburning ground, he eased her down to her back. Her fear returned with him looming over her. But then he knelt, placing a hand on her thigh, widening her. His gaze studied her sex, the smears of blood on her thighs. The muscles in his biceps bunched as he leaned over her. His tongue traced the inside of her thigh, taking the blood away as he'd promised. She was tense, she couldn't help that. Her trust could only go so far, because she couldn't read his intentions clearly, a problem she'd never experienced. It was a confused jumble, perhaps clouded by her own distressed state. But she had felt his vulnerability, his pain so sharp and clear. All the things that drew her to a person . . .
Oh, Goddess, had it all been a trap?
His tongue was making it difficult for her to decide. Working his way over both thighs, then up to the center, he tasted flesh that had never experienced a man's mouth. She arched with an unexpected cry as his tongue eased the pain of her sex and replaced it with waves of pleasure. She was his, all his . . . Oh, Goddess, this was a mad magic . . .
When she could bear it no more, she reached down, gripped his hair in hard hands, wanting more, somehow. Lifting his head, he looked up her body, his eyes wandering in a decidedly possessive way. "You no longer wish me to be . . . gentle?"
Startled, she had to stifle an uneasy laugh. Goddess, here she was, a virgin trying to explain the unpredictable and minute nuances of a woman's arousal to a creature who apparently had no basis to understand it. Of course, through Clara, she knew how hard it was to explain it to any male with reasonable brain function.
"It's . . . as I get more . . . aroused, you can be less gentle. Can you tell when I'm more aroused?"
He seemed to think that through, then nodded.
"But if it hurts, I'll ask you to stop. You have to stop then. Okay?"
A glint of fire went through his gaze before he bent to her thighs again.
Her trepidation quickly disappeared. Perhaps he had more than reasonable brain function, because he didn't need to be told something twice. He started off easy once again, but as she bowed up to his mouth, mewling, he growled against her flesh, penetrated her more deeply with his tongue. Holding her wrists to her sides, he gave her an anchor against which to pull and strain. She dug her heels into the charred ground as he pushed her legs further a
part with the movements of his head, the imposition of his body between her legs. When she began to buck, she rubbed herself against his lips, the hardness of his jaw. His sharp fangs pricked her, her erratic movements raking one across tender flesh. It made her moan even harder, because his mouth sealed over it, suckling tender flesh.
Then, just as she was trembling on the pinnacle, he slid up her body. This time, when he came into her, the passage was slick and wet, and he moved slowly. She didn't know if that was for her benefit or his, because there was a studied concentration to his face as he braced his arms on either side and thrust with slow deliberation into her still sore sex. She didn't protest, except for soft cries of pain and pleasure at once as she kept her eyes locked on his face. Her whole body, inside and out, trembled for him, taken over by his strength and fire, the intensity of that extraordinary gaze.
When he was in to the hilt, she felt as if she couldn't move, except for her legs locking on his hips by pure instinct. Taking her hands again, he held them above her head, bringing his chest down against hers, softness meeting hard muscle, the bloody symbols painted on his body now pressed to hers. Glancing down, she saw her flesh begin to glow to match those symbols, a mirror image. A wild warmth swept over her at the evidence that they belonged together.
"I want you to surrender to me. Open yourself fully when I take you over. Say yes."
"Yes," she whispered, caught up in the urgent need behind the words. It was a command, but more than that, it was a plea. He was so lonely, it swamped her as much as his desire. How could she deny him this moment to feel completely connected to another, even it was only in their shared dreams?
"I'm here," she said, and then he began to move. A thrust and retreat that built, creating a rocking motion between their two bodies like ocean waves. As the waves became a storm, slamming against one another, she left the metaphor of cool water far behind, nose-diving straight for the flames. Something was about to shatter. She feared the dream would end.
