Something In The Way-SYLUS X MC X ZAYNE

IV: Forever, my dragon

The bed of flowers stretched endlessly before me, golden and crimson petals swirling in a hypnotic dance orchestrated by a wind I couldn't feel. Yet I felt everything else. Every soft sigh, every whispered promise, every desperate moan that drifted between the two figures entwined at the heart of the memory.

Sylus... and me. Or not me, but some version of me I couldn't begin to comprehend. Her long brown hair spilled across the petals, her eyes dark with a passion that mirrored my own hidden longings. Her movements were fluid, instinctual, and entirely unrestrained, while his hands—those pale, calloused hands—moved over her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

His red eyes burned, as if lit from within by some eternal flame. He wasn't just Sylus here; he was something more. A dragon. A creature of legend. A being who should have terrified me, but didn't. He moved with reverence, as if the woman beneath him was his salvation, his undoing.

I should've hated this. Hated him. My bones screamed at me to turn away, to close my eyes and run from the pull that bound me to him. But I couldn't. The string that tied me to Sylus was as unbreakable as it was inexplicable.

Sylus hovered above her, his silver hair cascading around his face like threads of moonlight. His red eyes burned with an intensity that made the very air around them tremble. His hands roamed over her body, reverent yet unyielding, as though he couldn't decide whether to worship her or claim her.

"Every part of me," he murmured, his voice low and rough, "is drowning in you."

Her—or my—eyes fluttered open, wide and dark, meeting his gaze with a vulnerability that pierced the core of the memory. Her lips parted as though she wanted to speak, but no words came. She was completely undone beneath him, and he knew it.

"And I hate you for it," Sylus continued, his voice quieter now, his fingers tracing a path down her side, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "How mad I've become because of you."

She gasped as his lips pressed against her throat, a kiss that was both tender and possessive. His teeth grazed her skin, and he pulled back just enough to look at her, his crimson eyes blazing.

"Do you know what you've done to me?" he asked, his voice trembling with restrained fury and aching need. "You've made me a slave to this feeling. A man who once bowed to no one is now at the mercy of you."

Her breath hitched, her fingers tangling in his silver hair. "You're not a slave," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"No?" His lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. "Then why do I feel as if my soul belongs to you? Why do I dream of you ruling over me, a queen whose only command is for me to burn for her?"

Her body arched beneath him as he pressed into her, his movements deliberate and slow, as though he wanted to imprint the moment onto her very being. She gasped, her hands clutching his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

"Look at me," Sylus said, his voice sharp, demanding.

Her—or my—eyes snapped open, meeting his gaze. The storm in his crimson eyes was overwhelming, a tempest of love and anger and madness all at once.

"That's it," he murmured, his tone softening. "See me. Feel me. Know what you've done to me."

Her lips trembled, and she whispered, "I see you."

"No, you don't," he said, his voice breaking. "You think you know the depths of my devotion, but you don't. We dragons are not like you humans...you think you know what this is—what I feel—but you don't. How could you? You are human, bound by your fragile rules and fleeting lives, and I... I am not. Dragons do not love the way humans do. We cannot. Love, for us, is not gentle. It does not soothe or comfort. It burns. It devours. When I look at you, I feel my very being unraveling. Every instinct, every fiber of what I am screams that this is wrong. That you are unattainable. And yet... here I lay. You're the first being who's ever dared to come close to me, or even see me—not as a monster, not as a relic of another time, but as something worthy. And it's tearing me apart. I was born of fire, bound to a life of solitude and rage. Dragons are not meant for tenderness. We are meant to destroy—to conquer. And yet, every time I am near you, I feel like I'm drowning in something I do not understand. It's as if you have taken everything I've ever known—every rule I've ever lived by—and shattered it with a single look. But you—" His voice faltered, his crimson eyes darkening with turmoil. "You belong to him. The king. The man who despises me with every bone in his body. Do you have any idea what it's like to burn for you while knowing I cannot have you? To stand in the shadow of his crown while you wear his mark?"