DAGON MANSION

CHAPTER EIGHT: MAKING LOVE

WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of a short sexual assault, strong language, and consensual sex.

Brady descended into the commissary cell with the restrained calm of someone who had rehearsed courage.

Rogers sat alone at a narrow table, his back to the wall, eyes fixed on nothing — a statue of exhaustion.

"What has happened to you?" she asked gently. "Are you calmer now?"

He didn't answer. His lips trembled slightly, and his gaze flickered, as though he were listening to something she couldn't hear.

Then it came — a whisper, not in Brady's ears, but inside Rogers' skull.

"Did you notice her breasts?" said the voice of Forestvale Manor. "You like them, don't you? You want to touch her. Take her. Now."

Rogers shuddered. He rose abruptly, pacing in tight circles, muttering half-formed words. Brady exchanged a wary look with the officer at the door — and then, without warning, Rogers lunged.

He seized her, one hand gripping her waist, the other fumbling towards her chest. Brady gasped, her body twisting in panic.

"Let go!" she shouted — and drove her knee hard into him. Rogers collapsed, groaning, onto the cold floor.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, in the breathless aftermath, tears welled in Brady's eyes.

"You're not like that," she said, trembling. "Damn it, Rogers... How many times have I hoped you'd see me as a woman, not just a friend? I wanted you to love me."

A strange, lilting voice emerged from Rogers' mouth — feminine, contemptuous.

"This man bores me. He's too proper."

Brady froze. She reached for her phone and activated the recorder.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice low, firm.

"You wouldn't care if you knew. He's an idiot, but harmless. He loves his wife and adores his children. I only wanted to taste a human life... and have my revenge."

"Revenge for what?" Brady pressed.

"Shut up, you whore!"

Rogers's body convulsed. Then he went still.

Brady knelt beside him, trembling fingers searching his pulse. It was strong.
"Rogers," she whispered, her tears spilling freely now. "You've been possessed. I'll tell Ryan. And forget what I said — I'll always be your friend."

But Rogers heard nothing. Somewhere deep within, he wished he could.

Later that day, Alisha entered the visitation room. Her father sat upright, composed, as though nothing had happened.

"Dad," she began softly, "you need to apologize to Jake and Aaron."

He nodded faintly. "How are they?"

"They're surviving. You owe them that much — and me. Why did you do all of this?"

Rogers hesitated. His lips parted to answer — and then the same voice echoed through him once more.
"Idiot. I'm leaving you. The girl looks far more appealing. You'll never see me again."

Alisha frowned. "Dad?"

A thread of light unspooled from Rogers' sternum, wormed across the table, and slithered into Alisha's mouth. She gasped, stumbling backward, eyes rolling. When she awoke, Rogers was beside her, horrified, cradling her face in trembling hands.

"Alisha," he whispered. "What have I done?"

But she remembered nothing. Only his desperate expression lingered as she left the cell in silence.

Mia arrived at Ablington Island two days later. Her university break had barely begun, but the impulse to see Ryan was stronger than reason. Scarlett remained with her great-grandmother in London, giving mother and lover a private space.

Ryan appeared from the dim corridor of the detention wing. Even in that unholy light, he was breathtaking — the kind of beauty that made pain feel inevitable.

"What's happened to Scarlett? Is she ill?" he asked, concerned.

"No," Mia said quietly. "She's fine. I'm the one who's not."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm losing my mind, Ryan. This love is killing me."

He froze. "What love are you talking about?"

"The one between us," she said. "I've tried to fight it, but I can't. I feel alive when I think of you — and dead when I don't. You say you love me, but all I see in your eyes is restraint."

"I told you," he murmured. "We can't be together."

"Because of that curse of yours? The one about destroying every woman you touch?" Her voice broke. "You're not cursed — you're afraid."

She moved closer, her arms sliding around his waist. His scent — faint soap, metal, and something darker — filled her lungs.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't push me away."

Ryan's hand brushed her back, the gentleness almost painful.
"I'm terrified of hurting you," he confessed. "Every woman who's loved me has suffered. I can't let that happen to you."

"I don't care," Mia whispered. "Let me love you anyway."

He stepped back, shaking his head. "If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. For Scarlett's sake, go."

But Mia's heart had already crossed the point of no return. "I hate you," she said, her voice cracking and kissed him.

The kiss ignited something buried in both of them. Ryan's restraint shattered. He seized her face, his lips hungry, his body trembling with need.

"Mia," he gasped, "what are you doing to me?"

"Make love to me, Ryan."

"I can't—" He stopped, then surrendered. "I'm yours tonight."

She smiled through tears. "Then undress. Slowly."

He obeyed, his movements deliberate — as if stripping away the last remnants of reason. Mia's breath quickened. Her fingers traced his chest, the tattooed lines, the taut muscles. Then she grasped him, firm and certain, and he let out a sound between pleasure and despair.

"I can't wait any longer," he said.

Mia met his eyes. "Then don't."

They fell onto the narrow bed, limbs entwined, breath and skin merging into something primitive, holy, and forbidden. Between gasps, Ryan reached for a condom.

"This time, I'm prepared," he murmured. He tore the foil with his teeth, eyes never leaving hers.

Mia laughed softly. "I like it raw."

"No," he said gently. "Not this time. I need to protect you."

She nodded. "Then hurry."

And when their bodies joined, it was not only desire that consumed them — it was recognition. The rhythm of love, of ruin, of two souls defying the fate that had haunted them since Forestvale.

Mia's whisper dissolved into his ear: "I need you now more than ever."

And Ryan, trembling, kissed her eyelids. "Then you'll have me. Even if it destroys us both."

The storm outside howled like a living thing. Inside, time ceased.
For a few eternal moments, only they existed — human, wild, and heartbreakingly alive.