Chapter 4
Aurora
That moment when the energy around us changed… when Bell realized that we were forever bound and she couldn't just leave my nightmare realm, was both delicious and devastating. Her eyes, wide with terror and something darker, told me she finally knew what I had always known: she was mine.
"Even if I wanted to, I can't leave," she whispered, her voice rough with the effort of fighting what we both knew was inevitable.
The curse had claimed her. I had claimed her.
These two truths blurred together until I couldn't tell where my will ended and the ancient magic began.
Something primal and possessive unfurled inside me, a sensation both familiar and startlingly new.
A century of torment had taught me patience, but in that moment, I wanted everything at once.
The air in the manor carried an otherworldly chill that mingled with the heat of our struggle.
Moonlight sliced through broken stained glass, painting Bell's face in fragments of blue and crimson.
Shadows moved in the corners, not the ordinary darkness of night, but living entities that responded to my emotions, my desire. My realm, my rules.
Her figure stood before me, marked by our battle of the wills and mind games. Mostly my games. Even wounded, she maintained that infuriating stance, part defiance, part resignation.
I advanced slowly, savoring each step, each moment of anticipation.
The floor beneath my bare feet transformed from cold stone to plush carpet and back again, my dreamscape responding to my scattered thoughts.
Bell noticed the shifting reality, her golden-brown eyes tracking the changes with a hunter's awareness.
"You fought well," I said, my voice soft enough that she had to strain to hear me. "But it was always going to end this way."
She clutched her dagger, its blade catching moonlight when her hand trembled.
Blood dripped from cuts on her forearms, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of my heart.
Each droplet that fell to the stone floor sent ripples through my consciousness.
I felt them as intimately as if they fell on my skin.
I reached for her free hand, noting how she flinched but didn't pull away.
Progress. My fingers wrapped around her wrist, feeling the hammering pulse beneath her skin.
I drew her closer, watching the struggle play across her features…
the curse pulling her toward me while her mind screamed for distance.
"Let me go," she said, but the words lacked conviction.
"We both know that's not what you want." I brushed my thumb across her palm, leaving a smear of wetness. "Not anymore."
The blood on her hand looked almost black in the dim light, rich and vital.
I studied it, fascinated by the way it glistened, marking her as something fragile and human despite all her strength.
So different from what I had become. I felt her pulse jumping beneath my fingers, the rhythm increasing as I traced patterns across her skin.
"Your blood," I murmured. "It sings to me."
I pulled her closer still, until our bodies nearly touched.
The height difference between us meant she had to look up to meet my eyes, a position of vulnerability that I exploited without hesitation.
My fingers slid up her arm to her shoulder, then to her face.
I traced the curve of her jawline, feeling the tension in the muscles there.
Her blood clung to my fingertips, and when I brushed my thumb across her bottom lip, she went utterly still. The vivid red contrasted beautifully with her skin, marking her. Claiming her. Her lips parted slightly, whether in protest or invitation, I couldn't tell. Didn't care.
For a suspended moment, we stayed frozen like that… her blood on her lips, my hand at her throat, our eyes locked in silent communication. Then, as if giving in to something inevitable, she darted her tongue out to taste the blood on her lip.
My control, always fragile, threatened to shatter.
I slid my hand to the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss that was both punishment and reward.
Her lips were warm and soft beneath mine, the metallic taste of her blood mingling between us.
I felt her resistance, then surrender, her body softening against mine even as her mind continued its futile rebellion.
The dagger slipped from her fingers, clattering against the stone floor with a sound that echoed through the empty corridors of the manor.
Without breaking the kiss, I bent to retrieve it, her body moving with mine, our movements fluid and unhurried.
The weight of it felt right in my hand—this instrument that had drawn blood.
I broke the kiss, enjoying the way her lips followed mine for a fraction of a second before she caught herself. Her eyes opened slowly, confusion and desire warring in their depths.
I pressed the dagger handle into her palm, curling her fingers around it with mine. "You bled for me," I whispered, my lips brushing against her ear. "Now I want to bleed for you."
The horror that flashed across her face was delicious. She shook her head, tried to pull back.
"I can't," she gasped. "I won't hurt you."
"Why not?" I guided her hand, the one holding the dagger, toward my chest. The tip hovered over my heart, a point of cold against the warmth of my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. "You came here to kill me, didn't you? To end the curse?"
"That was before..." She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to where the dagger trembled between us.
"Before what?" I pressed, though I knew the answer. I needed to hear her say it.
"Before I understood." Her voice was barely audible. "Before I knew what this really is."
I smiled, the expression feeling almost foreign on my face after so long. Not the practiced, perfect smile I used as a weapon, but something genuine and therefore dangerous. "And what is this, Bell?"
Instead of answering, she tried to pull away, to put distance between us.
I followed, matching her step for step, until her back hit the wall.
There had been no wall there moments before, but my realm responded to my needs without conscious thought.
I pressed against her, trapping her between the cold stone and my body.
The dagger remained between us, its tip now dimpling the fabric over my sternum.
"You can't hurt me," I said, the truth of it settling over us both. "Not really. No one can. Not anymore."
"Please," she whispered, though whether she was begging me to stop or continue, I couldn't tell.
I leaned in, my lips at her ear. "You marked yourself for me," I breathed, feeling her shiver at the words. "You cut away your nightmares until you returned to me, returned to my reality. I don't take that sacrifice lightly."
Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling against mine. I could feel her heartbeat through the dagger, a frantic rhythm that matched the pulse of the curse flowing between us.
"I don't understand," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't understand why I feel this way."
"Don't you?" I slid my free hand to her throat, feeling her swallow beneath my palm. "The curse doesn't create feelings, Bell. It only reveals what's already there."
I kissed her again, harder this time, biting at her lower lip until I tasted blood again. She made a sound—not quite protest, not quite pleasure—that vibrated against my fingers on her throat. The shadows in the corners grew darker, more substantial, responding to the surge of emotion between us.
When I pulled back, I felt it… the sharp sting of the dagger's tip breaking my skin. Just a pinprick, barely enough to draw blood, but it sent a shock of sensation through me. I looked down to see a single drop of blood welling up just below my collarbone.
"There," I whispered, triumph and something darker flowing through me. "Was that so hard?"
I caught the droplet on my fingertip before it could fall. The feel was familiar yet strange, my own blood, changed by a century of nightmare magic. I saw Bell watching, her eyes fixed on my finger, pupils dilated until only a thin ring of gold remained.
Before I could react, she grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away from my body. Our fingers intertwined, blood smearing between our palms. Then she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the small wound, her tongue hot against my skin as she tasted my blood directly from the source.
The bond between us flared like wildfire, the curse singing through our veins. Blood bound… not just by magic now, but by choice.
I tangled my fingers in her hair, gripping tightly enough to hurt. She gasped against my skin, the sound sending shivers down my spine. I could feel her pulse pounding, matching the frantic beat of my own heart.
"Aurora," she whispered, my name a broken prayer on her lips.
Something inside me broke at the sound. Mine. She was mine in every way that mattered—heart, body, and fractured soul. And I would destroy anyone who tried to take her from me.
I clawed at the buttons of her shirt, suddenly impatient with the barriers between us.
The fabric parted beneath my fingers, revealing the smooth skin beneath.
I pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall forgotten to the floor.
Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, the dim light casting shadows in the hollow of her throat, across the curves of her breasts.
I bit my lip, drinking in the sight of her. My fingers traced the edge of her bra, following the line where fabric met skin. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back against the wall with a soft thud.
"Look at me," I commanded, and her eyes snapped open. "I want you to see who owns you now."
Defiance flashed across her features, a reminder that even bound by the curse, even wanting this, she wouldn't surrender easily. Good. I didn't want easy. I wanted her… all of her, including the fight.