Chapter Thirty
S y l v i a S w a n
I don’t think love begins with life at all.
Not the simple kind but heavier. The kind that's born from grief, sacrifice—from the way loss hollows you out and leaves room for something else to take root.
I think it came to me through death, my mother’s death.
As if she passed it forward and pressed it into the world with her last breath.
She gifted me love that was patient, rough, different from all I’ve ever known.
Still, I never believed someone could love me, not in a way that stayed but in the presence of Kian I’m unconditionally loved.
After the cave, my body felt wrong in the best way.
Whole again because she’s finally at rest. The bruises that were there are gone and the scrapes on my knees are healed.
I've spent every day since rebuilding my mental state or in bed.
Kian comes by occasionally, I'd feel him in my window, watching as always.
I let him inside a few nights, against my better judgement, he’d cuddle into my side or sit on the stool by the terrace.
He never once touched me or made me feel as though my body was the only object keeping us tethered together.
If I had asked myself a few months back if he would ever be this gentle I’d have laughed and said no.
The bathwater steams softly around me, turning the bathroom into something dreamlike. The mirror is fogged and the world is reduced down to porcelain and heat. I rest my head against the tub, letting the water carry the weight of me.
“Sylvia.” My father calls from the door and a knock follows.
“Yes?” I lift from the tub and my dreamlike state falls away.
“Dinner is ready whenever you are. I’m going to head into town to grab tea.”
“Ok, thank you.”
I hear his steps clamber away and get out of the bath. My skin is pruned from being in so long and I wrap myself in a velvet towel.
My relationship with my father has evened out. His mood has slowly lifted but he’ll never be able to recover from her death. Truly I don’t think I ever will either but at least now I have closure, proper closure.
I step out of the bathroom in undergarments, not expecting to see Kian resting on my bed.
“How’d you get in here?” I yelp as I cover my exposed skin. Amos jumps from the bed, guilty and skims through the crack of my door, vanishing.
“You left the door unlocked, figured it was an open invitation.” His eyes trail down my body shamelessly, venturing from head to toe.
He stands and traps me between his arms before I realize.
“What are you doing?” My voice is a breathless whisper and my stomach flutters as he wraps an arm around my waist.
His thick fingers trace across the exposed area and a soft gasp leaves my lips from the contact. His other hand plays with the ends of my hair, twirling and spinning the delicate strands.
“I can’t miss my woman?” He utters, his breath hot against my red cheeks.
“I guess.” My arms wrap around his shoulders, my fingers gliding through his abyss of curls.
“Sylvia, I can’t wait much longer.” His tone is restrained as he lowers his head between my shoulder blades, nipping roughly at the skin. “I’ve ached for so long.”
My heart leaps at the implication of his words and I lean into his touch. No matter how little his touch is, I always ache for it.
“Who said you have to wait any longer.” I can’t believe the words that come from my mouth, bold and implying more than I anticipated.
His hands slide up my spine, slow but calculated as he undoes my bra.
The clasp releases with a soft click before it hits the floor.
He draws back, his eyes finding my swollen nipples and his hands leave my waist. His touch is ruthless as he enjoys the feel of them in his palms. His callused hands brush the tender buds and a soft moan leaves me.
“Perfect,” he whispers before spinning me to the bed. My back hits it and a soft breath leaves my lips with surprise from the sudden movement.
“Kian,” I whisper. “Please.”
My core aches with something I’ve never given it before, pulsing and weeping even though he’s made no real contact.
“Of course my little swan.” He groans at the sight of me.
The nickname he gave me feeling much more romantic than it ever has before. His gaze sweeps from the blush on my cheeks to the pinks of my nipples.
He parts my thighs and removes my panties, his face skimming closer to my arousal. His finger dips in between my folds before he eases it into me, deep and slow.
“So pretty, so sensitive.”
My legs spread more and my lips part out a breathy moan. He inserts a second finger and my arousal slickens his every pump. My fingers curl around the silken sheets below me as my head reels in pleasure.
With every stroke he stretches me in ways I’ve never felt before, curling and twitching his fingers against my walls. He glances up at me, hunger pooling from his eyes before he dips his head lower. His tongue darts out, flattening over my clit.
“Please Kian, I need more,” I croak.
“I promise more, Little Swan, I promise an eternity of bliss.” His breath fans me and my hand shakes. “Another man may never touch you in this way, only me.”
I nod as his tongue flicks my clit, pressure building in my stomach at his possessive words.
“Promise me,” he mumbles, the vibrations causing white spots to coat my vision. “Promise me that you’ll never want anyone else.”
My lips part but no words come out. His grip on my thigh tightens, bruising the skin.
“Promise me,” he growls.
“I don’t want another, I promise.”
His unoccupied hand loosens his jeans and they fall to the floor, his dripping erection staring me in the face. The size of him is more apparent to me and much bigger than I imagined.
How is that supposed to fit?
His hand leaves me and a low whimper leaves my lips until I feel his tip pushing against my entrance. It feels hot and swollen and a sharp cry leaves me.
“I don’t think you’ll fit,” I whisper.
A sadistic smirk lifts his lip. “I’ll make it fit.”
My eyes widen and his hands pinch at my nipples making my back arch off the bed as he slowly enters me.
He leans over me and I lift the shirt off his body, exposing ridged thick muscle beneath it.
I grip his shoulder, preparing myself—and my heart hammers as I feel my walls stretching painfully.
It’s a beautiful pain though, one that has me hurting but also feeling so full I may orgasm now.
My teeth sink into his shoulder as I breathe my way through the brutal intrusion. His body shudders, taut, as if he had waited his entire life to ravage my body.
“Fuck,” He rasps. “You're so tight.”
His arms flex beneath my hold as he thrusts deeper and then pulls out, repeating the action until my body slickens.
“You’re so big.” I kiss along his shoulder, sucking the skin into my mouth, tasting and wanting all of him at this moment.
He chuckles as he moves on top of me, pleasure making my back lift from the bed and my mouth falls open.
I wrap my legs around him to ground me to something because my legs shake uncontrollably. My hips rise naturally and I feel him deeper than before.
He bites along my breast up to my throat, leaving behind bruises that’ll be hard to cover up. My stomach muscles tighten and he watches me with earnest attention, his gaze swirling with something anew.
“You’re so beautiful.” My walls tighten at his words and a masculine sound leaves his throat.
My nails pierce his shoulders but he basks in the pleasure and pain. Agonizing hunger coils in my stomach, low and fulfilled. Every touch pulls me deeper, pressure building until I can’t tell where I begin and he ends. His hot tongue swivels along my breast and the feeling has my eyes rolling back.
“Kian, I love you.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them and my hand covers my mouth, afraid.
He smiles, lifting his face to be leveled with mine.
“I love you, Sylvia.” He places a claiming kiss on my lips before pulling back. “My obsession will never know any bounds when it comes to you, my beautiful little swan. To imagine a life without you is to imagine a body persisting after the heart has been removed.”
Heat pours over me relentlessly, searing my skin until I glow with it. Kian’s gaze devours me, drinking me in as if it’s the last sight he’ll ever see and his heavy words make my blush deepen.
I’ve never been loved so openly by anyone and I only ever want it to be him.
Sweat begins to slick my forehead like the sun is kissing my skin in the summer time. My fingers dig into his skin as a wrack of pleasure seizes through me. My walls clamp around him and my eyes pinch closed.
“Kian.” I weep, through a drawn out moan.
His hips keep moving, sending me into a catacomb of pleasure. Every nerve under my skin hums and there's no separating pleasure from danger. I know it's too much but pulling away seems impossible.
I feel his cum seep into me, warm and fuzzy against my walls. He slowly pulls out and I feel empty inside, like a part of me has vanished.
“I love you with reverence, with terror, with the certainty that if you left me behind my soul would die and I'd be a hollow shell without you.” He brushes a strand of my hair from my face, his touch rough but soft in a way I’ll only ever be able to describe.
“Thank you Kian. For saving me, for making me feel whole, for persisting to love me even when I was clueless,” I mumble with a soft kiss on his cheek.
“You never have to thank me,” he whispers, leaning into my touch. “Never.”
“Where are we going?” I ask anxiously, pulling at a string that frayed from my corset.
Amos curls in my lap, his hair brushing my exposed knees. My other hand sits in the warmth of his stomach, stroking his fur every so often.
The road pulls away from Grimmwood, leaving the gothic sign behind as we venture into the city. I squirm in my seat, uncomfortable. I’ve never been to the city. The city scares me.
“Have patience, my little swan. I promise it's worth it.” He glances at me before his eyes turn back to the road.
How maddening?!
Two miles from town isn’t far but it's far enough to feel like crossing a line I didn’t know I was allowed to cross. The city spans out, rising up like a lost kingdom and I inhale a sharp breath.
“You’ll survive, stop stressing you’re making my ears itch.” I don’t get the implication he’s putting down but I awkwardly chuckle anyway.
We pull into a drive, a museum coming into view; tall, pale, and impossibly serious.
“A museum?” I whisper. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
He chuckles. “Thats the point, surprise.”
There's no real happiness to his voice but the sincerity in his eyes tell me just how proud he is of bringing me here.
We step out of the vehicle, him opening my door. The ground here even feels more expensive than it should and makes me tread softly across it as we walk. Amos is attached to his leash, walking by my side with confidence as if he belongs in the city.
Inside, the air is cooler, cleaner. Marble under my shoes, light pouring in from the vast windows like it serves purpose for the art on the walls. I slow without meaning to, my hands hovering uselessly at my side.
I love it. I love it so much it almost hurts.
People pass us, murmuring softly as if they’re afraid their projection will knock the paintings off the walls. Paintings line the wall, colors deeper than anything I’ve ever mixed. I stop in front of one, then another, craning my neck and drinking them in.
“How do they even get so many details in one painting?” I mutter, more to myself than Kian. “It's like they reach inside of you and pull something out.”
I feel his eyes on me, I don’t even have to look to know he doesn’t care about the painting, only my reaction to each one.
“Practice and obsession,” he says, offering me an answer anyway.
“Well, I’ve got one of those,” I scoff, feeling slightly envious of their talents.
Still I can't stop staring at all the detailed pieces. One day, not with certainty but a quiet ache, I hope one day I can be this good. Displayed on walls for all to see and appreciate. Good enough to deserve walls like these.
The next painting causes my heart to stutter. I step closer, heart pounding at an unbearable speed and a soft gasp leaves my lips.
It’s my mother.
Not the hollowed eyed version I last saw but her. The brushwork, the care, I recognize my own hand like a fingerprint.
“Oh…my God,” I whisper.
My hand lifts naturally, just shy of the art before I turn to Kian. A calm smile is on his lips and I shutter.
“I painted this.” My eyes burn as I stare at him. “What did you do?”
“I talked to the owners.” His hand lifts and his thumb brushes across my red cheeks. “They believed it belonged here.”
My eyes widen and a broken laugh escapes me. “You can’t just—”
My throat tightens as my head snaps back to the painting.
“That’s my mother.”
“I know, my little swan.” He pulls me to him, arm secured around my waist holding my fragile state up.
Tears slip from my eyes, cascading down in waves of appreciation. I don’t know what to say or how to feel but I’m beyond grateful.
“I don’t feel good enough to stand here and you put me on the wall?” My fingers hover over her eyes, so beautiful yet so broken.
“You did that yourself,” he says and swipes away my fallen tears.
I look at my painting, she looks out at the world like she’s finally been properly introduced. A justice that exceeds what we did months ago. My chest aches with pride and grief as well as something dangerously close to hope.
“Thank you,” I whisper what it feels like a million times.
My lips meet his, hard and full of love that I’ll keep feeling for him until we rot.