Chapter 24 Aurelia #2
And then something in me faltered. The memory of cold stone. Iron restraints. The faceless voices telling me to yield. My vision swam, retreat threatening to drag me under.
No. Not here. Not now.
The sound of the gown unlacing cut through my haze. Each loop tugged free until the last string slipped down my back. The gown fell loose, air kissing my bare skin.
I forced my body still, locking the storm inside my chest.
Kaelith’s palms pressed low against my spine, sliding until one hand gripped my hip, the other flattening over my stomach. His breath scorched my ear, a guttural moan rumbling from deep in his chest.
“You smell divine,” he rasped, the hand on my stomach inching lower.
Fear spiked sharp, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it bloom. I forced my shaking hand to unclench, pried it away from the bodice I clutched, and laid it atop his.
“Ah-ah,” I whispered, my voice softer than I meant but steady enough to hold. I turned my head just enough to catch his eye, forcing my lips into a curve that felt like glass against my skin—a smile so brittle it threatened to crack.
Then—I let the dress fall. A pool of silk at my feet.
“You’ll have to be patient, Kaelith. We have a deal.”
For a flicker, he hesitated. His hands loosened, not because I’d won, but because he thought he had. The predator humored the prey when it stopped thrashing.
I stood in nothing but undergarments—the kind that left little to the imagination. My pulse rattled in my ears, rage and terror wrestling in my ribs. My mask was the only shield I had left, so I wore it, even as it cut me from the inside.
I held his gaze. Men were such simple creatures, no matter how powerful.
Let him look. He sucked in his lower lip and closed the gap between us.
“It’s a shame, really,” he murmured, dragging a finger slowly over my mouth, down my throat, tracing the jagged path of my scar all the way to my navel.
“Such a pretty thing… with such a scar.” He leaned in until his breath brushed my skin.
“Wear the black dress at the back of the wardrobe.” His teeth grazed the side of my neck and then he placed a soft kiss over the same spot.
He lingered there, just a breath too long.
His gaze flicked to mine, slow and possessive.
He ran his tongue over one sharp canine, smiled—and walked out.
I stood frozen. Still. Every muscle locked in place until the door clicked shut behind him.
Then I moved.
I rushed forward, locking the door with a shaky hand and pressing my back to it, listening. His footsteps echoed down the hall—measured, unhurried. Only when they faded completely did my legs give out.
I slid to the floor, landing hard on my knees as my hands braced against the cold stone. My breath hitched. Once. Twice.
Then it came all at once—sharp and fast and unrelenting.
My chest tightened. No matter how wide I opened my mouth, I couldn’t get enough air in. My throat burned, clenching with the effort to keep from sobbing.
The edges of my vision pulsed. My fingers curled into the stone floor, nails scraping against it as I tried to anchor myself in something real—something solid.
My heart thundered. Too loud. Too fast.
I tried to remember what Hayat had taught me. What he used to say when the world got too loud. But his voice felt far away—an echo down a tunnel I couldn’t find the end of.
My skin felt wrong. Too tight. Like I’d been stuffed into a body that wasn’t mine. And through it all—the panic, the nausea, the hollow ache in my ribs—I could still feel his breath at my neck. Still hear the purr of his voice, the scrape of his teeth against my skin.
I pressed my palms to the floor and tried to breathe through it.
In. 1, 2, 3, 4…
Out. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…
Why didn’t I stop him? Why didn’t I scream, or fight, or push back?
I hated myself for it—more than I ever had.
My lungs finally obeyed. Air rasped in. “Aurelia?” The sound of my name floated in from somewhere distant.
I lay flat on the cold stone, arms crossed tightly over my chest, palms pressed to my skin as if I could hold myself together. I focused on my breathing. Counting. Grounding.
“Aurelia? Where are you?” Lysara. Her voice came closer. Footsteps padded across the floor, and a shadow stretched long beside me.
“Over here,” I muttered, opening one eye just enough to see her standing over me, confusion etched into her face.
“What are you doing on the floor?”
I forced a lazy, amused smile. “I got really hot from a very deep drink.”
Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t press. “All right. Well, it’s time to get dressed. Did you decide on a different gown?”
She glanced toward the discarded one pooled near the fire, the silk laces trailing.
“The black one,” I said without emotion. “At the back of the wardrobe.”
Lysara walked into the wardrobe—and stopped. I heard the sharp intake of breath, the soft gasp she tried to swallow.
“What is it?” I sat up slowly, arms still across my chest.
She emerged, clutching the dress in both hands, her expression unreadable. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “It’s just...” Her voice trailed off as she held it out toward me. A gown the color of onyx sprinkled with stars.
Goddess be damned.
The gown shimmered—onyx silk so dark it seemed to drink the light from the room, flecked with fine stardust embroidery that scattered down the bodice and bled into the skirts.
The neckline was a bold, plunging curve that mirrored the crescent of a waning moon.
Tiny obsidian beads lined the sleeves, which fell off the shoulder in sheer, whispering folds that would flutter with every breath.
The waist cinched in with subtle boning beneath the silk, sculpting the torso before flaring into layers of shadowed tulle and gossamer-thin lace. The hem was jagged.
That was the dress. The one she wore. In the memory Malachi had forced me to see. Eryndis knelt beneath a sun-filled sky in this very gown.
“Lysara…” I began, my throat suddenly dry.
She nodded slowly, gaze fixed on the gown. “The day she disappeared from this realm,” she murmured. “No one has worn it since.”
I reached out—hesitated—then took the gown anyway.
A voice echoed in my mind, quiet as a whisper. “When the world forgets balance again…”