CHAPTER TWENTY
20
Morwenna
The sting of the thirteenth lash echoed through my backside, a blossoming heat painting the flesh a vivid crimson.
Each assault, each crack a testament to Draven’s muscled hand, as firm as granite, that wielded the instrument of my torment.
Shame burned hotter than the welts themselves, for even amidst the throbbing agony, a traitorous coil of pleasure tightened within me.
This body, this infuriating vessel of betrayal, always craved his touch, a yearning that pulsed with every measured stroke, every forbidden caress.
And to think, it had to be Draven, the Lord of Vampires, the very embodiment of sin, who held such a powerful sway over me.
The fourteenth lash found its mark, and a choked gasp escaped my lips. “Fine. I’m sorry,” I rasped, the plea heavy with a desperate sincerity I loathed. The sarcasm that clawed its way up my throat died unspoken. I knew better than to antagonize my tormentor.
He paused, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he finally relented. My trembling hands gripped the edge of the dresser for support, the iron grip of his fingers still tangled in my hair. This damned mane, a luxurious burden, had foiled any attempt at escape. A foolish notion, I knew, even as the fantasy flickered in the embers of defiance.
“You deserve fifty spanks for thinking you could run...” Draven snarled, his grip on my hair tightening like a vice. I fought for air, gasping against the constriction. He glanced down, his eyes widening a fraction. Perhaps the crimson blooming across my cheeks mirrored the fury simmering beneath his skin. I yearned to unleash a torrent of curses, to tear into him with every vicious barb I could muster.
Until—no, no, no—he read me again.
A cruel flick of his wrist sent another stinging blow across my backside – the fifteenth, by my count.
My vision swam, the world blurring at the edges as my skin throbbed with a dull ache.
Suddenly, his hold loosened. My head thumped forward, the world tilting on its axis. I braced myself on the cool surface of the dresser, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror opposite.
My breath hitched in my throat. Those weren’t my eyes staring back. They weren’t the familiar shade of purple. Instead, an unsettling emerald hue pulsed within their depths, alien and captivating.
My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs.
And then, my hair...it couldn’t be. The rich brown strands I’d known were gone, replaced by a snowy white that cascaded down my shoulders. This...this mirrored the woman from my dream, the one with the haunting purple eyes and hair like freshly fallen snow.
A chilling realization dawned on me. Was this...was I her?
A primal urge to touch, to confirm this bizarre transformation, fueled my shaky hand.
Before it could reach its destination, Draven’s iron grip clamped around my wrist, yanking it behind my back.
A groan of protest escaped my lips as the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through my already strained shoulders.
Yet, a strange undercurrent of something else coursed through me, a tremor of sensation that defied the discomfort, a reaction both unwelcome and oddly stimulating.
Fuck. I was enjoying it.
Then, with a swift jab, one of his fingers invaded the most intimate part of my being.
A gasp tore from my throat, a shock that mingled with a flicker of something entirely different, an unfamiliar heat blossoming deep within my pussy.
Now he’s taking it too far.
His fingers traced my inner thighs until he found my clit.
Just that touch made my eyes snap open, my body tingling with sensation.
When he slipped his finger inside, I lost control instantly—a moan escaped my lips as he expertly curled his touch around my clit.
It was overwhelming; I felt like crying and moaning simultaneously.
Tears threatened to well up, threatening to spill. Tears for the forbidden intensity of the pleasure, a stark contrast to the violation I endured moments ago.
The dampness wasn’t just his doing. It was a primal reaction to the rough grip on my neck, the slam of my head against the unforgiving dresser. It was the vulnerability of my pinned arm, the way this harrowing situation had twisted into a perverse enticement.
“Wet under my touch, Morwenna?” he murmured, a cruel amusement lacing his voice as he pistoned his finger deeper. The audacity of it! It felt impossibly large, a monstrous imposter filling the most intimate part of me.
I bit my lip hard, the pain grounding me, reminding me of the outrage I should feel. But a traitorous seed of empathy had taken root, fostered by his confession, by the vulnerability he’d dared to reveal. The all-consuming hatred that had fueled me for so long felt…lessened. How could this be?
“Can you handle two fingers, Morwenna?” he inquired, his face and lips dangerously close to my most intimate area.
Uncertainty swept over me.
If I nodded, he would assume I was enjoying it, and if I didn’t, he might cease his actions. Though I doubted he would actually stop, there was an inexplicable desire bubbling within me, urging me not to halt this peculiar sensation.
I nodded, my affirmation accompanied by another moan escaping my lips.
“Good girl,” he praised, as he inserted a second finger into my velvet depths. Damn. This was what it felt like to be finger-fucked by a vampire king, particularly Draven. Daniel had never made me feel this way, not once. Even our previous kisses paled in comparison to the intensity that Draven evoked within me. I felt like a woman, a woman who could understand the theft of her own virginity at the hands of a vampire lord who not only framed me but desired me.
His fingers moved rhythmically in and out of my vagina, my wetness enveloping the two digits. “Tell me, Morwenna, what does it feel like to be fucked by me? How does it feel to witness your pussy respond to my touch?” he demanded, fully aware that I would not utter those words or confess to the sensations coursing through me.
As much as I derived pleasure from this experience, I refused to admit it.
When I hesitated to respond, he warned, “Tell me, Morwenna, or else I will thrust my cock into your pussy, and I guarantee you won’t remain silent then.”
I deliberated, searching for the right words, but before I could reply, his fingers abruptly withdrew from my vagina.
With the same hand that had been pleasuring me, he struck my buttocks. Seventeen. That was the seventeenth time he had struck my behind in form of discipline.
A moan involuntarily escapes my lips. It infuriates me that I find pleasure in this, even though I despise it. “It feels... overwhelming,” I manage to utter, as those are the only words that capture the intensity of my sensations.
“I’ll show you just how overwhelming it can be, Morwenna!” Draven declares, his voice dripping with anticipation.
I can feel his erection teasing my previously stimulated clit, the lingering effects of his fingers still lingering. It sets my heart racing.
“You’re about to experience the true intensity of having a real cock in your pussy, Morwenna.” He breathes, then continues, “You’ll truly understand the sensation of having my cock stretched your petite entrance,” he remarks, and I sense a harshness in his words, coupled with a hint of insult as he refers to my tightness.
I do have a small pussy, and with his intense, well-endowed cock, I know walking will be a challenge once we’re done.
I know he’ll ravish my delicate vagina, leaving it devoid of innocence and elasticity... soon, or perhaps even now.
My breath quickens as his erection presses against my entrance.
Oh God, it feels like my heart is on the verge of exploding.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to absorb the size of his formidable member as he begins to thrust inside me.
His hand, once pinning me down on my shoulders, releases its grip, allowing me to move my right hand that had been trapped.
I rest it on the dresser, using it for support as I squint at his length.
My gaze inadvertently shifts to the mirror, but I quickly avert my eyes. Seeing my reflection feels like observing a different person, someone being ravished by him, his... late wife. I wonder if he sees it too, because I certainly do.
“Take it all, baby,” he groans, his words a mixture of command and pleasure. He doesn’t hold back, driving into me with force. And yet, he has the audacity to tell me to take it all in.
“I’m not your freaking baby,” I retorted, my words barely a choked whisper as a moan escaped me.
He heard me nonetheless, his hand tightening its grip on my hair.
Correction, not just my hair—my scalp felt the sharp tug as he yanked my head back, eliciting a collective moan and gasp from my trembling lips.
“You think I didn’t fucking hear that, huh?” Another moan, strangled enough to escape me, as I found myself unable to resist the temptation to respond. “Take my fucking dick, slut... Is that what I should fucking call you, Morwenna?” His breath, heavy with desire, brushed against my face.
Slut? Yeesh. I had never been called that before.
Though I must admit, I would rather he call me that than continue with the baby talk.
“Your freaking dick is too fucking big for me, oh dear almighty lord...” I retorted, injecting a hint of sarcasm into my tone, which he immediately caught onto.
“Is it my fault that your fucking pussy can’t handle your master’s cock?” he fired back.
“And it’s not my fault my pussy is fucking tight,” I countered, refusing to back down.
“Then allow your master to stretch your fucking pussy, slut,” he demanded, slamming his length into me.
I felt as though I could scream until my throat bled, the intensity of his penetration stretching me to the brink.
My mouth hung open as his lips found mine, his tongue invading, suffocating any remnants of breath.
“It’s so fucking big, and... it hurts so bad,” I added to my words, gasping for air as our kiss broke.
Now, with his dick buried deep within my vagina, I could feel it pressing against the innermost depths of my stomach.
I bit my lip, my eyes rolling back into my sockets, my vision growing hazy with desire.
Oh, fuck. Not only did it hurt, but I was starting to find pleasure in the pain. How peculiar.
“I assure you, slut, once your fucking pussy accommodates my size, the pain will turn to nothing more but pleasure. You’re going to fucking enjoy it,” he said, his words laced with a cruel confidence.
He withdrew his dick out of my vagina, eliciting a strangled gasp from my lips, that mirrors the sound of both pain and something far more exquisite but I swallowed it down, desperately trying to regain control.
So this is what it feels like to have a dick inside me, especially a big one belonging to a king who doesn’t want to show me any form of mercy.
Probably because I don’t deserve any mercy, especially when he fucks me.
My chest heaved up and down, gasping for air. I desperately needed it at that moment.
His hand, still gripping my hair, yanked me up, jerking my body off the dresser.
I stumbled, my trembling hand leaving the table as he flipped me over to face him, his eyes burning into mine.
His lips immediately crashed onto mine, and I welcomed it with a mixture of passion and… annoyance.
I’d never expected my first time to be sweet or anything, but I’d expected it to be fierce, passionate, good.
Maybe having sex had never even crossed my mind before, not until him.
I challenged myself to keep pace with the intensity of his fast kisses.
His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I welcomed it with favor.
I’m still a novice when it comes to kissing, or having sex, or anything like that. I’d never envisioned myself having sex with anyone back then, not even with my boyfriend, Daniel.
Gosh. Damn. Daniel.
I reveled in the press of Draven’s lips against mine, yet the conflicting emotions gnawed at me. Was this betrayal? Daniel’s companionship was a comfort, a safe haven. But his controlling nature often left me stifled. His attempts to push the boundaries of our intimacy, like the incident with the drugged drink, had always been met with fierce resistance. Back then, desire was absent on my part. It felt forced, a violation I wouldn’t tolerate.
Here, however, the yearning was undeniable.
My hand slid into Draven’s hair, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.
His hand slipped inside my gown, lifting me effortlessly by the waist and carrying me to the bed.
Finally, the bed.
I melted into the cool, soft sheets as he laid me down on my back.
I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his cock, already glistening with my wetness and his precum beading at the tip.
“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, and I obeyed without hesitation.
My legs spread wide, my gown pushed aside, revealing just how wet I was. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks, but the desire burned hotter.
“Good girl,” he praised, taking the moment to shed his pants completely. They fell to the floor as he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs. “Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.
I nodded, breathless. “Yes.”
His fingers slipped over my wetness again, drawing a moan from my lips. “Morwenna Petrova,” he murmured, his voice dark and possessive. “You’re no longer a virgin. You lost it three minutes ago.” His words were a cruel reminder, yet they only fueled my desire. “Now, I’m going to fuck you like the slut you are, not a virgin.”
I gasped as he plunged two fingers inside me, stretching me, filling me, and erasing any lingering innocence.
A shiver danced down my spine as his pace quickened, fingers a blur against my heated core.
The withdrawal was sharp, a fleeting tease that only intensified the delicious sting of his absence.
Then, a warm, wet caress. He savored my essence with a languid stroke of his tongue, sending shivers cascading anew.
“Thirsty!” he murmured, a dark rumble in his chest. His hand slid down, finding its familiar home on the pulsing heat of his arousal.
Without warning, he thrust into me, the sensation both exquisitely gentle and fiercely primal.
A strangled moan escaped my lips, eyes fluttering shut as I chased his rhythm, yearning to meet the building intensity.
Our foreheads touched, a brief, grounding connection. He rained kisses upon my brow, each one a damp whisper. “Think of me, Morwenna,” he commanded, his voice a husky caress. “Let my presence consume you, every fantasy, every delicious desire. Especially this.” He shifted, the undeniable press of his erection sending a jolt through my vagina.
A slow, knowing smirk played on his lips. He understood, the rogue. My mind, already inflamed, eagerly conjured his form. His impressive length, the way it filled me, a delicious ache blooming deep within.
His smirk widened, a flicker of triumph in his dark eyes. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice punctuated with desire. “Indulge yourself. Let the image consume you.”
“Shall I increase the pace?” he inquired, his cool breath teasing my lips, his moist kisses journeying from my forehead to my nose and finally lingering on my upper lip.
“You’re hardly slow yourself, Draven,” I breathed, a touch of breathless frustration lacing my voice.
Truth be told, his relentless assault had me on the precipice, his substantial form a constant promise of the exquisite oblivion just beyond reach.
He reveled in my disorientation, his thrusts a maddening combination of agonizing slowness and electrifying speed.
Each stroke left me wanting more, utterly lost in the delicious chaos he orchestrated within me.
“Huh, really?!” His voice, a low rumble against my lips, held a hint of amusement. “So should I make it fast then...huh...?!” He was already impossibly fast, wasn’t he? I swallowed a laugh, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But before I could form a witty retort, Draven, with his vampire’s lightning reflexes, surged forward.
Gods above, the man was relentless.
His every thrust was a blur, a whirlwind that left my senses teetering on the edge. It felt like watching the Flash in action.
My human body, a mere vessel compared to his immortal power, strained to keep pace.
The intensity was both exhilarating and terrifying, threatening to shatter me from the inside out.
My vision swam, a moan escaping my lips as his movements reached a feverish pitch. “Draven...” the word tumbled out, barely audible over the staccato rhythm of our coupling.
“Need a breather?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the thunderous rhythm of his thrusts.
“It’s too...” Heat surged through me, spreading from my vagina to my breasts, hardening my nipples. I craved the pressure, the release. He was making me feel everything, every desire, every sensation. “...too big...” He showed no mercy, plunging his length deep inside me, stretching me to my limits.
“Take it all in, slut,” he growled, each word a scorching brand against my skin. “I’m not going to slow down. Take my dick, you filthy little Morwenna Petrova!” His words, laced with a potent blend of desire and dominance, were a mere whisper against my ear, a counterpoint to the frantic rhythm of his thrusts.
My body moved in a frantic dance, mirroring the movement of his throbbing manhood.
The pain was intense, the discomfort undeniable, yet I couldn’t deny the desire that pulsed through me.
My face, my entire body, flushed crimson and trembled.
My senses tingled, a strange sensation that seemed to emanate from deep within my core. It felt like Draven had struck a nerve, a deep, primal core that threatened to erupt...soon. Not soon, I thought. Right now.
My face flushed, burning with a heat that spread like wildfire. “Draven, I feel this... feeling!” I gasped, my words a strangled whisper. “I feel like something wants to explode out of me...”
Draven’s lips crashed down on mine, a quick, possessive claim. “You’re about to come, slut!” he murmured against my mouth. I wanted to frown at his choice of words, but the sensation building within me was eclipsing everything else. It was an overwhelming wave of ecstasy, threatening to break free.
My face burned even hotter. “Draven...” I gasped again, my breath catching in my throat. “Drav...” His hips slammed into me, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the explosion building inside me. “I’m going to... come...” I managed to force the words out. “I’m... ahhhh...” My voice was swallowed by his lips, and in that instant, my body erupted.
Oh, fuck.
The heat intensified, my body trembling as the wave of pleasure crashed over me.
My breaths came in ragged gasps as Draven slipped his tongue into my mouth, a welcome intrusion.
He groaned against my lips, his speed relentless, his vampiric power a whirlwind of kisses that consumed me. Intimate, yet harsh, his kisses were a storm of passion.
Draven finally pulled back, giving me a moment to catch my breath. My body still quivered from the aftershocks of my climax. But he wasn’t done yet.
“Keep your mouth open,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.
I tried to stubbornly close my lips, but the need to scream, to moan, to release the last vestiges of pleasure was overwhelming.
Draven noticed my defiance and his hand, large and strong enough to cover my entire face, clamped down on my jaw, forcing my mouth open.
He withdrew his throbbing manhood from my still-quivering vagina and shifted his weight.
His legs, planted firmly on the mattress, resembled a spider’s stance, like a Spiderman in action. He leaned down, his face inches from mine.
His hand stroked his cock, then with a cruel twist of his wrist, he slapped it against my lips.
‘Fuck him for that,’ I thought, my anger flaring with burning pleasure.
He shoved his length into my quivering lips, forcing them open wider.
He held my head in place with his rocky hands, his grip firm and unwavering.
Then, he began to move, thrusting his manhood in and out of my mouth, a relentless, brutal rhythm.
He was using his length to fuck the living hell out of me.
Or rather, my mouth.
The insistent bulge of his manhood in my throat was undeniable, even as he relentlessly pounded me.
Another guttural groan, thick with lust and desire, escaped his lips. “Fuck. Fuck, baby. I’m coming. Take it all in, slut,” he growled, his pace intensifying. He drove deeper, harder, until I felt the searing heat of his release flood my throat.
I swallowed it down, unwillingly, the salty taste both repulsive and strangely exhilarating.
My throat strained against his relentless thrusts, and I almost choked.
Finally, he withdrew, releasing my head from his grasp.
It fell back onto the mattress with a soft thud.
Draven rolled over, his body settling beside mine, both of us facing the ceiling.
My eyes drifted to the intricate floral pattern of the vintage wallpaper, a stark contrast to the raw passion we had just shared.
My chest heaved, struggling to regain its rhythm after his onslaught.
“How was it? How did it feel?” Draven asked, his voice smooth and steady, devoid of any sign of exertion. Of course, he was a vampire. He could handle such a feat with ease, unlike me.
I tore my gaze away from the ceiling and turned my head, my arm resting beside me. “It was...” My eyes lingered on his manhood, already fully erect, resting beside him. His hand moved with a frantic rhythm, stroking his desire. I could stare at it forever, a testament to his power, his ability to drive me to such heights. My gaze finally settled on his face. “Amazing,” I whispered, the word barely audible.
“You’re amazing,” he mirrored my words, his gaze meeting mine.
He continued to stroke his cock, a blatant display of his arousal.
My mind was at the other hand was still reeling from the experience, replaying every sensation, every touch.
“May I?” I finally asked, giving in to the urge that had been building within me. My hand reached out, meeting his. He understood immediately.
“It’s all yours,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Slut.”
My brow furrowed again. His words, though meant to be a taunt, were beginning to lose their sting.
I was too lost in the afterglow of our encounter, too consumed by the desire that still pulsed through me.
“You don’t like it when I call you a slut, huh?” he questioned, his voice laced with a playful taunt.
I blushed, a warm flush creeping up my cheeks. “It’s not that I don’t like it,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just the way you say it... It makes the word sound strangely alluring when it rolls off your tongue.” I wasn’t sure why I confessed that last part, but it slipped out before I could stop it.
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Well, considering you didn’t want me to call you baby, I suppose you can handle being called a slut. After all, it’s a term your people seem to embrace, isn’t it?” His words were laced with a knowing smirk, acknowledging his awareness of Chimera City and its secrets.
“I’d rather be called a slut than baby,” I asserted, my voice a mix of defiance and desire.
He chuckled again, this time a dark, husky sound that promised pleasure and pain in equal measure. “Very well, Morwenna. Show me just how much of a slut you can be. Get on your knees and suck my cock.” He remained lying on the bed, his hand pausing its stroking motion, leaving the task solely to me.
My breath hitched, not only at the sheer length of his manhood but also at its magnificence.
Trembling, I raised my hand and began to stroke his length, my gaze fixated on it.
I then leaned down, my head descending towards his hips, and wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, my hand still providing a steady rhythm.
Slowly, I started to take him in, my mouth stretching to accommodate his length, a tear threatening to escape the corner of my eye from the intensity of the sensation.
I sucked, alternating between gentle and harder pressure, trying to please him.
I attempted to take him deeper, feeling a moment of gagging which elicited a playful giggle from him.
I released him momentarily, catching my breath, before resuming my efforts.
I used my saliva as a lubricant, as I spat on his cock and using it to moisten the head to intensify his pleasure.
A deep groan escaped his lips, confirming his enjoyment of my actions.
“Ahhh, Morwenna!” he groans, his voice a low rumble against my ear. I try to keep pace with him, but his relentless rhythm leaves me breathless.
I lift my head from his cock, my eyes meeting his. “I’m a slut, remember, not Morwenna. Especially when I’m sucking on you, almighty Lord Draven,” I say, a touch of defiance laced with a hint of playful submission in my tone.
He smirks, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Suck me hard, slut!” His voice is a command, a demand that I can’t resist.
To intensify the pleasure, I decide to take things a step further.
I roll onto my stomach, my body molding against his, my inner thighs pressing against his face. My lips find their way back to his member, moving in and out with a rhythm that matches his own.
Draven, in turn, begins to work his magic on me.
His tongue, a skilled and demanding lover, finds its way inside my heat.
Fuck.
I gasp, a moan escaping my lips as his tongue moves in and out, a tantalizing dance that sends shivers down my spine.
I almost forgot I was giving him a blowjob. I was so consumed, so heated by the lingering sensation of his tongue.
His hands slam onto my ass, his grip possessive and tight. He holds me captive, his lips digging into my vagina, his tongue fucking me just like his dick.
I moan, a deep, guttural sound that echoes the pleasure coursing through me.
My hand finds its way back to his cock, stroking it with a rhythm that matches the way my lips are sucking on him. But it’s his tongue, his masterful touch on my clit, that sends me over the edge.
I’m lost in the sensation, my body vibrating with pleasure.
I manage to suck on his cock until I hit my climax, and he devours every part of me.
Draven groans too, his own climax hitting him like a wave.
We both intertwine, falling into each other’s arms, curled up on the bed.
My head rests on his chest, his hand falling on my hair, stroking it gently.
My right leg curls up on his thighs, my hand rubbing his chest frantically.
He places a kiss on my forehead, a tender gesture that seals the moment.
“I’ll never forget this day, Draven...” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.
I lifted my face to meet his, but his gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought.
The intricate floral pattern of the vintage wallpaper seemed to evoke some kind of memory in him, a flicker of something hidden deep within his soul.
It takes only a glance into his eyes to know what he’s thinking, to see the shadows dancing behind them.
My smile faltered, and I fell back into his arms.
He’s probably thinking about his past again.
I wouldn’t dare judge. We all carry our own battles, our own demons, shadows clinging to our souls. I myself wasn’t exempt from the darkness, and neither was he.
He’d offered a cryptic answer to my earlier question – had he relinquished his past, or was he willing to shed the burden it imposed? The truth was, no. But change, though slow, could be a possibility. The key, however, rested solely in his hands.
Since surrendering my innocence to him, a kaleidoscope of desires had blossomed within me, desires I yearned to explore with him.
The intimacy we shared had unlocked a potent yearning, a hunger I craved to satiate in his arms.
But this wasn’t a path I wished to tread if it meant enduring a different kind of torment – the torment of him being haunted by the memory of... Victoria.
I longed to be the sole occupant of his thoughts, a consuming presence that banishes all others.
But looking like his late wife will surely trigger memories, haunting him, keeping him tethered to the past.
I can’t bear the thought of him seeing me as a ghost, a reminder of what he’s lost.
The subtle shift in his touch was the first clue. He didn’t respond to my last murmured words, the air crackling with unspoken tension.
“I should probably get going,” he muttered, the rasp in his voice a touch too raw. I heard the rustle of fabric as he climbed out of bed, followed by the purposeful thud of his boots hitting the floor.
There was no need to watch him – my gaze drifted upwards instead, settling on the faded floral pattern of the wallpaper; the same one that had captivated his attention moments before.
“Goodnight,” I whispered into the empty space beside me, unsure if he’d even heard. Vampires, I mused, weren’t bound by the same sleep cycles as humans. Even if they did slumber, it could be years, even centuries, before they stirred again.
Before I fully grasped the passage of time, a gentle kiss brushed against my forehead.
The touch was feather-light, yet oddly comforting.
My eyes drifted from the unreadable design on the ceiling. They met Draven’s, now a neutral shade the color of sun-baked earth. Tranquil yet unsettling, with a single fleck of crimson lingering in their depths.
It was as if I’d fallen into that gaze, lost in a world only it could reveal.
“Sleep tight, Morwenna,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr that seemed to weave a spell around me.
Heavy-lidded, I succumbed to its power.
My vision blurred, eyelids fluttering shut until, within the abyss of my closed eyes, a new image flickered to life. A mirror. And a woman standing before it, crackling with an electrical aura that warned me away.
As the vision sharpened, her face came into focus. Victoria.