You Can't Run From The Dark

{Part 34}

~Zaire~

"You're enchanting. You're everything that I'm afraid of, and everything I could possibly want."

Zaire wanted nothing more than to ravage his little doll, right then. He was ready to bring her to tears, pull her apart at the seams, and take his sweet time playing with her fears and pleasures, until she begged him to have mercy on her by letting himself have his own release.

She didn't appreciate his glamour more than his true appearance. He had gotten irritated at her for her insecurity, her unpalatable feeling of unworthiness, when she disagreed with his sentiment that she was a treasure. But after he more or less snapped at her for it, challenging her belief on whether or not he would deign to waste his breath on empty flattery, she had conceded. And then, Zaire had to remind himself of his own insecurity, and told himself that it wasn't fair to be upset with her for hers. He had his own worry that she would find his glamour more suitable for her. She was mortal, after all, despite the bond between them that made her more resilient, and gave her life more longevity than average mortals without the Mark. It could have been assumed that a mortal guise was biologically, instinctively more attractive to her than the visage and anatomy of a being that personified her nightmares.

Her refusal dispelled his assumption, because he could taste that she was telling the truth. She genuinely felt as if the glamour was inferior to his true form, and that made his body hum with electricity. It made him feel like he was a fucking king. He wanted to bless her for that, with orgasm after orgasm.

But Zaire had to exercise his self-control. He couldn't chase her just yet. The memory of her crumpling to the forest floor, and the echo of her weak pulse still haunted him. He was afraid that he would, once more, take too much from her, and he had sworn that he wouldn't betray her by edging her so close to the brink of death. Never again.

"I'm glad to hear that," Zaire forced himself to say. It was a grievous understatement, but it was the best that he could manage. He couldn't tell her that her words had bestowed upon him such an intense pleasure that he was inches away from mauling her like a wild beast, ravenous for the essence of her arousal. Not if he didn't plan to make good on that admission. He was no tease, and he wouldn't lend his lustful thoughts a voice, if they were anything but promises of what was to come. Zaire stood, his rock-hard length straining against his pants as he did. "Get dressed, and come with me."

Ugh. Come with me? Wrong choice of words, given how turned on he already was in that moment. That simple phrase brought the vivid memory of her doing just that, the night before, to the forefront of his mind. And her lust that he tasted on his tongue only made it that much harder to leave the room, knowing that she was wanting to satiate her own desires. But if he stayed to watch her undress, neither one of them would be leaving his bedroom for hours.

Once he was out of her vicinity, he mourned the taste of her lust receding from his mouth, leaving only the vague phantom of it. He took a seat on the méridienne, and tried not to think about the moment that he had laid her limp body down on it, or how pale and bloodless her beautiful lips had looked, even through his drunken, red haze. Instead, he focused on where he would take her. He planned to show her the parts of the Dark Realm that she hadn't seen yet. If she chose to cross the Veil, Zaire should offer her the chance to experience his world more fully, first. Perhaps he could convince her that it wasn't all bad, and that not all Dark Fae were malevolent sadists. Surely, if she could believe that, she would be more willing to leave her world behind, or at the very least, choose to stay a little longer.

Dread twisted inside him. He couldn't stand the thought of her departure. How long could he possibly survive, keeping enough distance between them for her to breathe, for her to think that he wasn't near, while he was watching over her? It would be maddening! His ability to sense her movements, feel her presence, would be greatly diminished in the mortal world. And he wouldn't be able to taste the phantom of her emotions even without being in a certain proximity with her, unlike he could in Faerie. He would be starving for them, edging just on the outside of her vicinity, and he would have to shroud himself constantly with his shadows, so that she wouldn't notice him lurking. Fuck, it sounded like pure misery awaited him. He had to do whatever he could to dissuade her decision to leave the Dark Realm.