𝐈𝐥𝐥-𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ✔️

24

The sexual tension. It was killing me. My demonic soul longed for her angelic one, I wanted to feel her soft skin, her purity, I wanted to do things to her that people have died for before, but I knew I'd risk death time and time again. 

I'm asleep, in her bed, with her beside me. And I dream of her lips on mine. Our lips move together, we are unable to get enough of each other, my lips trail down her neck and she moans. She starts begging for me, whimpering, slowly my kisses trail down between her breasts until I reach the zipper on her pants. And as I grab the metal, pulling it down, I'm woken up by a loud gasp.

I open my eyes. I'm in her room. The sunrise comes through the window, the orange glow landing on her. She sits up, she's breathing heavily, she looks afraid.

I push myself up. I move her curls to be behind her shoulder as I ask her softly, "What's wrong?"

She looks at me. She forces herself to take deep breaths to calm down. I wait for her to talk to me, my fingertips running through her hair. She swallows.

"I dreamt of it again," she tells me. "The demon killing me."

I didn't understand it. How we could sleep next to each other and have opposite dreams. In mine, I kiss her, in hers, I kill her. I don't understand why she dreams of something that will never happen.

"The demon is dead," I say. "Your nightmares are not real."

The look of anxiety in her eyes, I had caused it many times on purpose, but now it was on accident. I move closer to her, it's hard not to look at her small loungewear, but I force my eyes to stay on hers. I say, "Come here."

I put my arms around her. I pull her into my chest. I feel it, her slight hesitation as she questioned her actions. But she stayed, letting me hug her, her cheek pressing against my chest. I knew she was not as sure of me as I was of her - and I didn't even know why I was, why I was feeling something for her stronger than my loyalty to my people. 

My hand moves up and down her back as I comfort her. Little did she know how much of it I owed to her after all I had inflicted on her. I could've been King. I could've guided my people to freedom. And yet I let them die down there as I hold her in my arms. 

She's about to say something. But I beat her to it. I cut her off, "I won't tell anybody about this."

"That's not what I was going to say," she says as she pulls away. I held myself back from touching her again. "I was going to say thank you."

She smiles. It feels like she hasn't smiled in so long. The sight of it is almost enough to make me smile back at her for the first time. I've never smiled before, smirked, yes, but never smiled. 

"Thanking me looks good on you, Valeria," I tease her. She rolls her eyes.

"Don't get used to it," she says.

The orange glow was no longer on her. Thunder started again, followed by rain. Valeria questions, "Another storm?"

I don't let myself roll my eyes until I turn away from her. I look outside. The sky is darker than yesterday, the rain more heavy, the lightning more bright. My father's patience was wearing thin and he would not stop until he got some answers.

I stand up and grab my shirt. I pull it over my head. She says, "Meet me in the library later."

"Okay," I say instantly. Another secret meeting, somewhere we could speak without being seen, since I knew that's what she wanted. I was not good enough for her. Everybody knew it - even us two.

"You take up all the bed, by the way," I say before stepping out of the room. I hear a thud from the other side as she tried to throw a pillow at me.

𓆩♡𓆪