Feral Hearts

35

 Lukas' POV

Awareness has proved to be a weakness in periods of prolonged isolation. Memory limitations become significant.

 Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you’ll find an edge to cut you.

 I looked into my own darkness. I knew what it was to be trapped, and to watch ruination. 

 Each day the memories weigh a little heavier. Each day they drag you down that bit further. You wind them around you, a single thread at a time, and you weave your own shroud, you build a cocoon, and in its madness grows.

 I hardly know Victoria but I want her, with unreasonable ferocity. Like a sickness, like the need for water. Like a wolf to his mate, I am laid low by irresistible longing.

 In memory I study the light on her face, beneath the glow-bulbs of the Castle, beneath the cemetery trees. I envy those patches of sunlight, sliding over her hair, moving unopposed the length of her body, across her cheekbones.

I remember everything.

 I recall the pattern of her breath. In the heat of Ester’s kitchen, I remember a single bead of sweat and the slow roll of it, down her neck, along the tendon, across her throat. I’ve killed men and forgotten them. Mislaid the act of taking a life. But that drop of sweat is a diamond in my mind’s eye.

 “My king.” 

 Damn her voice.

 I always thought that maybe her voice is a melody that can put away the loud voice within my head.

 And my clever words desert me. She makes me feel my fourteen summers, more boy than man.

 I want her beyond reason. I need to own, consume, worship, devour her.

 What I’ve made of her in my mind cannot live in flesh. She’s just a person, just a girl, but she stands at the door to an old world, and although I can’t go back…

 she can come through, and maybe bring with her a scent of it, a taste of that lost warmth.

 These feelings are too fierce to last. They can only burn, making us ash and char.

 I see her in dreams. I see her against the mountains. High, snow-cold, snow-pure, unobtainable. I climb, and on the empty peak I speak her name to the wind, but the wind takes my words. It takes me too. Tumbling through void.

 “Victoria...”

 "What are you doing here? You climbed up on my window?" She gritted her teeth in angered but I don’t care.

 Victoria had round breasts, arms that were plump from shoulders to elbow then tapered into soft wrists and small hands. Strong hands—she worked hard on her training as a warrior, and for that I admire her more.

 Her strength and courage fascinates me, the way she put her heart to her task responsibility and the way she moves with grace and power.

 Her legs were sturdy and curved, calves soft and kissable.

 Her face—the one all screwed up with her scowl—was round, her nose in perfect proportion. Her eyes were covered yet I believe they were pretty.

 "Lukas! What the hell! Are you deaf? I am talking right now yet you're not listening and Shit! Are you nuts? You can use the door to visit me in my bedroom. Is it that important that you forget to use the door?" 

 I can't even understand her words as she talks, because my eyes followed the movement of her lips.

 They were inviting...

 But I remembered something, the fact that my mate is her brother, and Elder Jadissa was right that I am making a mistake.

 “I hope you would, but I am not afraid that you'll turn into a monster, right now, I'm afraid you'll repeat the same mistake and I can’t let that happen.”

 But damn it! To hell with that. I closed the space between us, jerked her against me, and brought my mouth down on hers.

 "Hmmpfft!"

 Victoria made a little surprised sound in her throat, and fists contacted my shoulders. I tightened my grip, pulling her into me, and licked the sweet taste from her lip in one firm stroke.

 Just a taste, 

 just give me one last taste.

 Victoria stopped fighting. Her lips softened, hesitated, then formed to his.

 Fire. Her mouth was heat and everything good. I laced my fingers through her hair, pulling it out of the ponytail she’d dragged it into. 

 Soft goodness flowing over my hand.

 I sucked her lower lip into my mouth, and Victoria made another soft noise. No more protests, no more fists. No more talking.

 Victoria's body fitted to mine, breasts tight against my torso. I moved my hand down her back, callused fingers catching against the satin fabric. 

 The fabric was so thin I could feel the heat of her skin.

 I could savor her all day and all night. I licked into her mouth, finding a bite of spice. 

 My thirst went away as I drank her.

 Her small hands caressed my shoulders then moved to the back of my neck, above the Collar. 

 She liked to hold on to my neck when we kissed for some reason. Not that I minded. She also liked to run her fingers through my short buzz of hair.

 I kept on kissing her. Victoria's mouth was a joy, her breath warm, her body pliant against mine. 

 My cock hadn’t gone down; in fact, it had grown even more rigid. Victoria tasted like sunshine, felt like a soft cooling breeze.

 If it could be just you and me . . .

 We’d unmake the world.

 I made myself ease the kiss to its end. Victoria gazed up at me, eyes warm, her lips parted. Her anger had been erased for now, and what he read in her was desire. Moisture lingered behind her lower lip, and I licked it away.

 It took all my strength to relax my arms around her, to let go. Victoria had been on tiptoe, and now she thumped back on her feet. She stared up at me, unblinking, her lips slightly swollen.

 I pointed my finger at her face and ended up touching her lightly on the nose. “You and me,” he said. “We’re not done here, Victoria. If your brother won't show himself. It is you who will pay the price.”

 I turned and walked away. Killing myself in the process while doing it, but I made sure I did say an exit line, before leaving the stage of passion.

 I didn’t even look back to see if she stared after me, I hope it's longing in her eyes, but no matter how much I wanted to.

 Deep down, I knew that she hates me. Nothing can change that...

 For her I am a killer.

 For her we are not meant for each other.

 And it kills me, to let her go.