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Tread Careful, Dream Dancer

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Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm

Joined: 18 Apr 2017
Posts: 99
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Can Be Found: Lurking about.
4914.12 Silver Crowns


PostPosted: Fri Apr 28, 2017 6:54 pm    Post subject: Tread Careful, Dream Dancer Reply with quote

April 28th - Friday - Early Morning

She fell asleep, her body pressed against a stranger named who gave the name of Core. The night had involved too many shots, the challenging words of a stranger, bad decisions. It led to scratching nails, mark-leaving teeth, bruises from rough fingers. The languid blissful sleep that only followed an equally blissful romp. For once, her night was quiet, no multitudes of dreams did she slip through. In fact, her night was almost uneventful…. up until just about when the sun was starting to rise, did she wander, pulled and called by a familiar tug she didn’t recognize soon enough.

She was already nestled in the bleak dreamscape when she realize who it belonged to. Distaste curled across her features, both across her sleeping face in the real world…..

....And just as well in the dream world. She was seated in a chair, within a room that opened to a window that yawned open, presenting the world that seemed to stretch out before it. Woods, scraggly trees, near dry river beds littered with cracks and dead or dying animals. Colors were muted, subdued. The whole thing felt suffocating, and done purposeful.

Quiet, coal black eyes scanned the room, before she twisted in the seat so she was on her knees, and peering behind her. It would only be so long before the one she looked for showed his face. And it was. He came creeping from the shadows, into existence. The face of the nightmare she’s been avoiding since she rolled into the city of Rhy’din and threw herself into the throngs of life that happened there.

“Ronixi.” He spoke her full name like he owned it, voice full of gravel and growl.

Her name from his lips was enough like a shock of lightning that it made her go ramrod straight, and deathly still. It took everything within her to remember how to breathe, to still the panic that raced through her veins, turning them to ice like the worst drug imaginable. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she tried to find words, but it was like he had completely stolen them from her.

“Roooniii.” He crooned, her skin crawled, and he strode closer to her. His eyes were near neon blue, glowing in the dim of the room, and completely on her. “Lovely. Where did you go? I’ve been looking for you, but it’s like you've run away. Have you run away from me, my dream catcher? Do you truly know how much of a dangerous game you’re playing if you have?”

His words were sickly sweet, and made her skin crawl, as did his slow approach. As much as she wanted to have control, there was none. His hand came up, his fingers roughly grasped her face. “You are mine beautiful. Come back, I’ll forget you even disappeared. I’ll forget you didn’t follow rule number three.” He leaned forward, ghosted his lips over hers. It was that, which finally sparked her into her own action. A jerk back, a hiss that sound trapped and terrified all in the same.

“You don’t know where I am. You won’t. Zagan, I am not something for you to lay claim to. Not… Not any more. I belong to myself.” She spoke, voice trembling in a defiance she had never used with him before. Displeasure twists his features, and somewhere in the distance of the dreamscape lightning crackles and thunder rumbles angrily, under his direction, not hers. Nothing she tries coaxes or changes the dreamscape, when normally, she was such an artist within them.

“Very well, beautiful. Pray I don’t find you. Till then? Your dreams are mine. Like they always have been.” The words are purred in his voice of gravel and smoke, reverberating through her just like the slow sinking feeling of dread that followed after. He forced her to look him in the eye. “I always find what’s mine. Don’t forget it.” The words echoed, his grin leered across her vision, played on repeat as laughter bounced all around her, and the world began to fold in on itself.

She woke with a start, a thin sheen of cold sweat prickled across her forehead, damp sheets clung and tangled with too much naked skin. Her tongue was thick from a night of too much booze, and not enough water, her head in a fog just as thick. The sun creeping in through the window was low, not low enough for early morning, but too low for noon time. Mid-morning. Her head doesn’t pound yet. Groggy, she kicks herself free of the sheets, rolls off the bed to her feet. She finds a shirt, not hers, and shorts that are, dons both.

She scrounges a cigarette from somewhere, grabs her baby neon blue bic, and very quietly slides out of the room. Her mind was heavy, fuzzy, and she needed to pace where she wouldn’t wake someone else.
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Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm

Joined: 18 Apr 2017
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Can Be Found: Lurking about.
4914.12 Silver Crowns


PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2017 4:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

April 30th - Sunday - Early Morning.

The magic of Beltane hummed within her, even after she had left the fires with abandon, liquid courage burning through her veins. Her mind was heavy with the words that Nick had imparted on her. Of feelings, and caring for her. She had only been in Rhy’din for such a short period of time. It was a surprise to hear the words, and at first, she had wanted nothing more to run free, delve back into the lingering bodies that still pulsed with the primal beat of the drums.

Instead, she stayed, she listened, and floundered for words. Then Nick got weird, and she simply took her leave, unsure of what else to do. It was woefully disappointing that she had no one with her, no body to intertwine with on such a night where she felt so alive and free. The fact chewed on her thoughts as she drifted through the late crowds of the marketplace, until she came across the building her shared two bedroom apartment was housed in. Siobhan had paid for most of it, partially because her bestie had the foresight to grab more than the money out of someone’s wallet before running. But then again, she had had other things on her mind at the time.

She took the steps leading up to the door quickly, her body still swaying with the drinks she imbibed in. The stairs up to the second floor where her room was were taken in slow even steps, and she only stumbled twice. Then she was at her door, thin fingers fumbling with her keys, before the key slid home, and she stumbled into the apartment. A foot came up to kick the door shut after her.

Their apartment was small but decent, a kitchen big enough for a small table, but devoid of such, along with most appliances. The living room was sparse, with a mismatched set of couch and loveseat, end tables that were scuffed, both probably dragged home from someone else’s curb. It beat sitting on the floor. Quiet steps carried her through both, her attention pausing only on the door to Siobhan's room, door partially cracked, the lights out. Her friend wasn’t home yet. She figured that she was out prowling the streets on that rumbling beast of a bike that she loved.

With a fond smile twisting the corners of her mouth upwards, she moved on to shove the door of her room open, and slid inside. Her room was small, big enough for a full sized bed with the covers unmade, and a dresser that was empty of clothes. She had only come with a week's worth of clothes, which were strewn across the floor in some disorganized mess. She still wondered when someone would notice that she was wearing the same clothes frequently. People were petty like that. Careful as she could, she picked her way through to the bed, and promptly collapsed on it. She wasted little time in working herself under the blanket she had, and curling up. Even though she knew what would probably come tonight, sleep came easily thanks to the aid of the booze humming in her veins.

She wasn’t out for more than ten minutes before she felt the familiar drag and pull of her consciousness. As much as she wanted to fight it, she knew she couldn’t.

Displeasure curved her features as she tumbled into the dreamscape, quite literally. She landed on her knees, black locks an inky mess that hung in her face. Here there was the heavy beat of primal drums that clashed together in dissonant discord with the keening words of a singing voice. Bodies moved together in pulsing throngs behind her, while fires burned, dull in color when compared to the real thing.

“Ronixi.” The gravel in his voice reverberated in her chest, even with the pounding of the drums echoing all around her.

She doesn’t respond, instead she wishes him away as she stands. The clothes she had worn to her Beltane celebration were gone, and in their place was a gown the color of forests, with gemstones of emerald glittering along the neckline that dipped modestly in the front. A crown of ivy and blood red roses rested on her head, coal black locks messy as ever. Abyssal eyes move, dancing upwards to a throne of gleaming silver and crawling vines. Perched atop it, looking regal and smug was Zagan. He wore a black vest without a shirt beneath, left open and casual with a simple pair of breeches. A crown of thorns and ivy adorned his head, making him look like a false self proclaimed king.

Near neon blue eyes glowed in the firelight as they roamed over her form, devouring and undressing every inch of her in his mind. She was beautiful as ever, and glaring daggers at him. It was what finally had him rising from his his throne and stalking towards her. Every step closer ended with things dropping away. The tables laden with food, the throngs of people, the merriment, the life of the party. The only thing that lingered by the time he was before her was a single dull, lifeless fire and the beating of the drums.

“Aren’t you a vision, Dream Catcher. Did you look this lovely earlier as you celebrated Beltane? Ah, you did celebrate, yes? Drinks, revelry, partaking in flesh of some stranger. Tell me, does he sleep in your bed tonight?” Rough hands moved to ghost over her collarbones, then slowly down the midline of her torso. Her teeth grit at his touch, and quick as lightning her hand darted out and swatted his away.

“It’s none of your
****ing business.” Her words come snarled, something feral and dangerous in her eyes, even as his hand circles around her wrist, grip tight enough to hurt. He pulled her closer, and twirled her, like a cruel mockery of a dance, then pulled her against him, her back flush with his chest. She felt his lips against her ear, “Do you forget that your father gave you to me to settle his debts?”

She stiffened at the mention of such. No. No she hadn’t forgotten that. Her begging pleading sobs as his men dragged her from bed in the middle of the night, the mother that looked the other way, her younger sister that looked on in relief that it wasn’t her. Her desperate pleas to her father, who didn’t even have enough balls to look her in the eyes and give her a reason why. It was the night that had cemented a black hole of hate in her heart for her family. They were dead to her for all she cared.

“No.” The word same soft, breathless, as if the memory had winded her and stolen away the fire of her defiance. She didn’t see the smirk that played across his features, even as one hand came up to loop around her middle and hold her against him. His other hand came to rest over the space that fell just below her belly button, where underneath the dress was a brand of intricate swirling symbols that intertwined and hummed with magic. “Did you forget that it was my brand you wear? That you are mine?” His lips were still against her ear, his voice an angry growl that had ice creeping along her spine.

A split decision has her rocking her head forward, then back to connect with his face. There’s a sickening crunch of bone, a startled sound that comes with her freedom. Blood dribbles from his nose. She twists, and places her hands against his bare chest, and gives a vicious shove that sends him stumbling back from her. “I belong to no one. No one but myself.”

The incredulous look he gives her is laced with anger and malice, the promise of unpleasant consequences. “You. You are playing such a dangerous game, Ronixi. One that you will regret, I promise.” There’s laughter that escapes him, and it makes her think of tortured animals and blood, fresh and spilling. “Tell me, lovely. Was it that quiet little bitch friend of yours? The one that helped you run? Siobhan? I notice she’s been rather absent. Don’t let me find her, Dream Catcher.” He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t have to. The threat of what he planned to do was plain as day on his scowling features.

“I will kill you.” Simple words follow the narrowing of coal black hues that burned with a feral fire. He threatened the one person that meant the world to her, the only person that she would willingly take a proverbial, and literal bullet for. It was enough to stir the darkness within that was always lingering underneath the surface. “I will make it slow, and painful. I will dance in your tears and revel in every moment of pain I can bring you if you touch her. That is not a threat, Zagan, but a promise I make with glee.”

There must of been something in her words that made some part of him slip up, relax his hold on the control he held over her and the dreamscape, she felt it in the release of the stiffling rigid control he had lorded over her domain with. Like the striking of a viper she took control quickly and relished in it. The ground beneath them shook. It cracked, split open and storm clouds rolled across the sky, crackling angrily with lightning and roaring with thunder. With thin fingers curled like claws, she lunged for his back peddling form. Just before their bodies collided, there was another flash of lightning that lit up the sky…. Then everything went black.

She woke with her fingers curled into claws that had been intent on curling around Zagan’s throat. Head still buzzing with the lingering effects of her wine, her eyes dropped to her hands, and one by one, she uncurled each finger, and worked to slow the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Anger still burned bright with his threats, the want to make someone else hurt like she did lingered. She didn’t think, just moved to roll off her bed and to her feet. She only paused to collect the silver cigarette case and her bright blue baby bic from the rumple of sheets.

That done, she was moving to tear out of her apartment, the door coming close with a resounding slam that was certain to wake a neighbor or two, and result in complaints that she couldn’t give a **** about.
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Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm

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4914.12 Silver Crowns


PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2017 1:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

May 11th - Thursday - Early Evening.

Tonight. Tonight she had decided to stay home instead of venturing out on the town and finding trouble that she probably didn't need. Her long limbs were stretched out across her bed while her fingers dances and splayed, giving her asshole of a fuzz butt something to play with. Sure it left her hands covered in pinpricks of scarlet, and the pain was sharp, but it reminded her that this whole thing was real and not some induced dream she couldn't escape. Every thing she did since she had arrived in this city from shopping and doing girly stuff with Antonia to stealing a bike, raiding a depraved church and screwing her brains out with Core, all of it she was doing because she could. Because she had a sense of freedom that she hadn't tasted in a very long time. Now that she had, she was willing to do anything to keep the little slice of life she was slowly carving out for herself.

There was a fierce little mew from her kitten that dragged her from her reverie. The corners of her mouth pulled up into a grin as she wiggled her fingers once more then snatched them away when the kitten moved to pounce. With a yowl of surprise she went scrambling off the bed and landed in a pile of clothes. Its enough to pull a rumble of laughter from the fae as she shifted so she could peer over the edge of the bed at the little creature. The kitten was staring up at her, a pair of black lace panties tangled with her ears. She looked at Roni expectantly like she should know what was going on at the exact moment. She stared back at the creature before finally the lightbulb came on. It was that little moment Antonia told her about. Where she was trying to tell her name. The fae could feel it in the stare the little creature had fixed on her and in the pit of her stomach. There was a snap of slender fingers.


No response. She squinted at the kitten a moment and the black lace that she was tangled in. Slowly, it clicked. She pointed at the kitten. She knew what it was now.


The kitten perked, gave a little mewl, the rolled over to paw at the air. She took that as an affirmative, and leaned down to scoop the kitten up and cradled her close. “You’re a beautiful, spoiled little creature, Lacey. I’m glad I have something else other than ***hole to call you now.” Amusement danced on her features once this was voiced, and Lacey responded by capturing the finger that was scratching at her jaw, and chewed ambitiously on it.

Soon enough, she pulled her fingers away, and deposited her on the bed beside her. “Let’s watch Game of Thrones. Maybe after we’ll make bacon.” In her book it was a delicious snack. Her fingers caught her phone from where it rested on the bed and pulled it in. Languidly, she stretched out and settled on her side, arm propping her head up while her other hand tapped away at the screen and brought up her favored website for watching shows.

The theme music for the show hummed its familiar tune from her phone’s speakers in a matter of minutes. Soon enough the kitten gave a wiggle of her haunches and lept up onto her shoulder. A low rumbly little purr vibrated in her tiny chest as she curled up in the crook of her neck. It seemed to be one of her favorite spots on Roni. Another one just so happened to be her face, which led to being suffocated by a ball of fur on some nights.

It wasn’t long before exhaustion she hadn’t felt all day crept up on her and settled in a heavy blanket that dragged her down to the throes of sleep. There was not much fight against it, even as she felt the near constant pull and lure of a subconsciousness she had no wish to visit. Tonight, she avoided it, sought out the dreams of something much more innocent for a welcomed change of pace.

A smile curled the corners of her mouth…

Even as she stepped onto the darkened spanse of an endless beach. The air was tangy with salt, heavy with the smell of the sea and brewing storm that lingered in the sky, electrifying the air. Lightning flashed across the horizon, touched with the water, and illuminated the rocky crags that the angry waves crashed against. When the thunder rumbled, there was a terrified wail that followed. It belonged to a child, one that she assumed was terrified of the beauty that the lightning painted in the sky and the deep music that rumbled with the thunder. Her toes curled in the sand as she considered what to do.

She didn’t move for almost half a minute, just enough time for more lightning to light up the sky. Her footsteps seemed to be in harmony with the rumble of thunder that followed the return of the dark, along with another pitiful wail that echoed. As she walked, those abyssal eyes of hers searched the crags, trying to pinpoint the location of child. She… thought she spotted a shadow move, darting to hide in a crevice that offered little protection from the beginning storm. Another crackle of lightning fell, lighting up the area with a flash of light as she neared the jagged and jutting stones. Just before everything went dark again she spotted a precious head of bright red curls peer out over the ragged edge of stone. Then thunder rumbled once more, reverberating heavy in her chest, not unlike the heavy bass of good speakers. The wail was nothing more that a whimper of a child scared out of their wits.

“Little Red. There’s nothing to be afraid. There is beauty you miss in the thing you are terrified of.” Her words came on the dying tail ends of the rumbling thunder, before her hands were held out, palms upturned. She could have wiped the storm away, brought about its end quicker than the bright blinding flashes that lit up the sky. This was her domain, but instead of washing the sky in blue and painting it with rainbows, instead of calming the raging waters, she left the storm to brew. And brew it did. Fat raindrops fell from the sky, the air became thick and cloying, full the scent of damp sand and rock.

“Come, Little Red. I promise, I won’t let it hurt you. Come. Come and see the beauty that I do. Let the rain wash those fears that paralyze you. It is not worth it to be terrified all your life.” Finally, one of those upturned hands stretched out to offer itself to the child. “Let me show you the beauty. Let me show you why it is nothing to fear.” Her voice was soft and lyrical, warm, and more than inviting. All was silent for a long moment, and she didn’t even dare to draw a breath. No, not until a face that should have belonged to a cherub emerged from from the rocks it hid behind. She held it again as the child took slow tentative steps from her hiding space.

It wasn’t until the girl’s hand was in hers that another flash of lightning white washed the landscape, casting long shadows of their forms across the sand. A startled shriek is swallowed by the thunder that follows. All of that tiny form collides with her, and she wraps her arms protectively around the girl. A sigh was breathed as she sank to her knees in the sand, and just held the child for a moment, offering the her the comfort that she desperately needed. After a moment had passed, she shifted so that her backside was planted firmly in the sand and gave the girl’s hand a gentle tug.

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But sit. It used to scare me too, but only because I didn’t see the beauty in a storm, the power behind the rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning. Sit. Don’t be afraid. Just watch.” It took a long moment before the child finally dropped down beside her in the sand. With a smile just as bright as the lightning that lit the sky, Roni turned her face up to the sky, and reveled in the rain that peppered it. “This time when the lightning comes, don’t close your eyes. Look at the clouds, the waters. Take note of the beauty it paints in those places, the colors. And when the thunder comes, close those pretty eyes of yours, and feel the power of it echo in here.” A single finger came up to tap at her chest, right over where her little heart fluttered against her rib cage.

“Are you ready?” She asked the words gently, as abyssal eyes left the sky long enough to lingered on the child. She bit down hard on her lower lip, her little throat pulsing with her terror as she nodded. “Watch.” With that, Roni’s attention returned upwards, and lightning sliced through the sky, splitting it with jagged tendrils of electric blue that turned the dark storm clouds midnight blue, and the purple color of a fresh bruises with dashes and flickers of near fuschia pink. She felt the girl flinch, but instead of whimpering, she pressed closer to the fae, eyes wide as she took in the beauty of what she was terrified of had to offer. Then darkness came, her eyes fluttered shut. Not a sound escaped her as the thunder vibrated the insides of them both.

“Again. Until you’re not afraid any more.” She she spoke her arm lifted to loop around the girl's shoulders, a silent comfort. She lost track of how many times that lightning flashed and thunder rumbled as they sat side by side like that, watching the sky and the beauty that the storm painted for them both. It died slowly, with the drifting of storm clouds that revealed the half-moon and twinkling stars in the sky, with the fading trails of rumbling thunder that moved off towards the distance, and the slow calm that seemed to overtake the once churning sea and crashing waves.

“You’re right. It’s prettier than it is scary.”

The girl’s words had a warm smile curling the corners of her mouth upwards, while her arm gave a squeeze to her shoulders. “I’m glad you can see that now, Little Red. Keep that in mind, when ever another storm comes. It’s prettier than it is scary.” Fingers wiggled a little before she started to pull away and unfolded herself from the child. Nimbly, she got to her feet, and readied to leave. Her job was done. She hadn’t soothed away a nightmare, but instead the root of the fear that had fueled it. It was her time to leave.

“Is there anything you’re afraid of?” The child’s innocent question made her freeze as ice water slipped down her spine. There were so many things that terrified her. Things that she kept to herself, and buried under a layer of bravado and flashy smiles. Finally, she shook her head and took a step away from her.

“I’m afraid of many things, Little Red, but you do not need to trouble yourself with my fears. Sleep sweet, child.”

Another step taken, then she was gone, naught but a face in the dreamscape of a girl she would probably never know.

She drifted, dancing from one dreamscape to another. Tonight she was kind in her work. She eased the grief of an old woman as she dreamed of her deceased husband, encouraged a battered and abused woman to face the man that had slowly deconstructed her life with cleverly constructed words and a well placed bullet in in his chest, soothed the nightmares that left countless children cowering. The familiar pull and tug of subconsciousness that she had felt since sleep claimed her, was ignored until she could no longer do so. Finally, she folded and submitted, followed the demanding pull to whatever the dreamscape would be this time.

Her eyes stayed shut, even as she found bare feet crunching dry and brittle grass beneath them. The air was acrid, sharp with the burning smell of a forest fire and heavy with smoke. The heat of flames licked at her skin, and made her think of the anger that belonged to the man who had breathed the dreamscape to life. She breathed deep, lungs stinging with the smoke she shouldn’t have been inhaling, before those abyssal eyes of hers finally fluttered open, and focused on the man that was looming right before her.

“Ronixi. You know I do not like to be kept waiting.” His voice of gravel and smoke was laced with barely constrained anger. The same anger that burned the surrounding trees with flames of reds, oranges and the hottest of blues. Near neon blue hues watched her, even as he started circling with a stalking prowl.

It was the same anger she had fallen victim to many times over the years that she had been in his
possession. It flushed her mind with memories of nights spent at the mercy of his hand, under the vicious press of his body, victim to any whim or malicious fancy that he had. Memories of how the next day she was expected to be painted, well behaved, and poised, a pretty porcelain doll when she felt shattered inside and out. Never. Never again would she succumb to that fear and pain.

At least that was what she kept telling herself, day and night. Just like she echoed the words ‘I’m free.’ like they were her light to salvation, and she was nothing but a devout sinner.

Those coal black hues didn’t follow him as he circled her, they watched the flames that devoured leaves from trees, and leached the moisture and soothing cool from the breeze. “I’m sorry. Did I inconvenience you by making you wait? Like you inconvenienced me with all those years of using me and my body like it was nothing but a toy for you to play with? Like there wasn’t thoughts and feelings and a life behind the pretty little doll you called yours?” The words were sharp, spit with the venom of many bitter years.

There was violence lurking in those eyes of his as he came to a stop before her. His fingers moved to trace a line from her lips down to the gentle rounded point of her chin, and the slope of it that led to her throat. His touch elicited a shiver from her, one from disgust at the touch, and the danger that was always lingering underneath. “Ronixi. Lovely.” The words came as a purr, a smug look smeared his features as those traveling fingers curled into a firm grasp around her slender throat. Even though he could not truly harm her here, it still had the ice water of fear running down the length of her spine and pooling in her stomach. “I do not appreciate these games you are playing with me. You know that I never have. You know there are…. consequences. For every action, there is a reaction. It depends on you as to whether or not they are good, rewards, or bad, punishment.” His nails bit into the tender flesh of her neck, as if to emphasize the point that he was trying to make.

“What’s the worst you could do to me that you haven’t already? Will you give me a collar of jewels and gold? Will you shackle me away in a room somewhere?” Defiance crept into the lilt of her voice and the fire in her eyes. At her sides, thin fingers curled her hands into fists that wanted to do nothing more than pummel the smug arrogance off of his face. “Are you going to lock me away somewhere and leave me to rot? That’d be blissful if you didn’t visit. At least I would still be free of you and the dark cloud of yours that swallows every bit of light it can.”

Amusement met the arrogance on his face, and mingled. Laughter rolled out of him, soft like the distant rumble of thunder. “You know, Ronixi, your younger sister has grown into a very fine, beautiful woman. With hair like silk fire. She’s a pretty little doll.” There was no obvious threat in his words, but she knew it was there, lingering like a spider waiting to spring its trap. A threat to the sister that she swore was dead to her. Even of still it had heavy dread settling over her like a cloying blanket. No one else should be subjected to the life she had with Zagan. Careful, she schooled her face into a well constructed mask of stoic unamusement. She even arched a brow at him.

“My family means nothing to me. Anyone who can just give away their child like that, they are not parents. They are monsters, as are anyone else that just sits aside and lets it happen.” Her hand came up as she spoke, fingers wrapped around his wrist, and squeezed the wrist bones with surprising strength until he released the grasp he had on her throat. She pushed his hand away with indifference that was another front of the bravery she so desperately wished she had.

Near neon blue hues watched her like a cat would the prey it was stalking, even as his hand fell to his side. “Oh, lovely.” The words were crooned, softer than the whisper of breath against skin. “I found a little bird here. A little bird who heard things she shouldn’t of. Things you discussed with that bitch friend of yours. She sang so pretty after I clipped her wings.” The fear his words had lancing through her cracked the mask, showed in those abyssal eyes of hers. “A city filled with all kinds. I’m coming for you, Ronixi. I hope you’ve found a way to at least break the magic in that pretty little brand of yours.”

“No.” It came as a strangled whisper as she stood there, rooted like a tree in place by the terror his words brought. The smirk on his features voiced that no matter how much she denied it, he spoke the truth. He was coming. “I’ll take my time lovely.” His form pressed closer as he leaned in to claim her lips in a solid but chaste kiss. “Take the time until then as a gift from me. And tell your friend Siobhan to stay the **** out of my way.” He growled the woman’s name, pressed his hand flat against her chest, and gave her a savage shove.

Instead of going sprawling like she should have…..

She woke in her bed, drenched in a cold sticky sweat, and tangled in sheets that felt claustrophobic and suffocating. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, fueled by terror, while panic squeezed her lungs and made it near impossible to breathe. Her pulse thundered in her ears as fingers came up to claw away the sheets, legs kicked, sending her phone flying and skittering across the floor. There was one single thought that kept rolling through her mind. On repeat.

She was so ****ed.
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