192. White Rabbit
192
White Rabbit
M aya
I moan. It’s long and low and so loud it tears my throat. Some of his cum dribbles out of my mouth, but I’m too dumbstruck to recall how to use my tongue to lick my lips.
I manage to thrust my body backward, his cock pulling out of my mouth as I fall onto the bed, howling and writhing.
“Maya!” someone says, but I can’t figure out who.
Pain. Heat. Boiling. Something is sizzling through my veins. I don’t know where I am or why I’m here or what is happening. I only know I’m in agony and it’s been going on forever.
Is this hell? Do I remember something about eternal fire and flesh bubbling off bones?
Someone is holding me. At least that’s what it feels like. It hurts so bad. If I could figure out how to open my eyes, and if I could dredge up the energy to do so, I would see who is doing this.
And if I could get my mouth to work, I would tell them they’re killing me. Literally. I’m certain every place they touch is peeling the skin from my bones.
I’m in a tight ball, panting. It’s all I can do. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. Something is soothing about the cadence as I focus on just this task. Inhale. Exhale.
My heart is hammering in my chest so fast I should be scared, but I’m in too much agony to care.
Whoever is here in this room with me is clinging to my back. I wish they would back off. Their touch hurts so badly.
Then a miracle happens. My heart slows, the fire subsides, and my brain comes back online. My pain is no longer at a hundred on a scale of one to ten. It’s ten and plummeting fast. Once I’m down to a four, I take a deep breath that allows all the pain inside me to evaporate.
“Maya, what can I do to make it better?” It’s a male’s voice. Now that I can pay attention, I think he’s been saying that for a while.
I remember. It’s A’Dar. He came in my mouth. He did this. As soon as I’m fully functional, I’m going to pry that hunting knife he has stashed in his gauntlet and stab him in the heart with it.
“Quit touching me,” I say.
He doesn’t listen. Asshole. He’s petting my head over the braids he made me. And he’s crooning. It’s calming.
I unroll from my fetal position and turn to look at him. His eyes widen in surprise—no, shock—when he sees me.
By the look on his face, something changed not just inside my body, but outside. Please, please, please tell me I haven’t grown fangs. And dear God, no weird tusks. I hate to be a whiny pissbaby, but out of everything that’s happened to me today, I don’t think I could handle that.
“What?” Certainly he has to know what I mean.
“Your eyes. They’re the same color as mine.”
His eyes are beautiful, at least when they’re golden. That certainly isn’t the worst news I’ve gotten today. Not by a longshot.
“I had no idea this would happen,” he says. “I didn’t know I would fundamentally change you when I licked you. I certainly didn’t want this to happen. I’ll never touch you again. I promise.”
I don’t know how it happened, but my pain has drained away, leaving me at a zero on the zero-to-ten scale.
I roll away from him, then slip my feet over the bed.
Alice in Wonderland time. The Jefferson Airplane song runs through my mind about one pill making you larger, because although my feet were a foot above the floor when I sat down, they almost touch the floor now.
I rise and say, “Stand up, A’Dar.”
I came up to his nipples an hour ago, but now, when we’re standing toe to toe, the top of my head reaches his throat.