BLACK

(12) Thump thump

EDITED

The sheets engulf me, roasting my skin to blisters. I toss again, unsatisfied. The shocks are no longer blissful, rather they ache for a different need. A different need than the touch of my mate.

Damp hair to sticks to my back, making me feel even more clammy as I bolt up. I wear just a plum night gown, but the elastic around my waist feels suffocating. Even my toes are too warm beneath the blanket. I snap my hand away with fear as the flaming jolts sizzle on my palm.

"What's wrong?" Cesare asks. His black hair is flattened against his pillow, and his blue orbs droop with fatigue.

I wring out my fingers from between his, wiping off the collected sweat. "Uh, nothing," I clear my throat. "Just need to grab a glass of water."

I start to pull out my legs from under the blankets, yet I stop as the sensation of pain explodes over my arm. "Stay in bed, I'll get it." Cesare offers quietly, beginning to force himself to wake up.

"Ces, it's fine." I return his gesture. "I, uh, also have to pee."

"Fine," His head flops back down onto the silk pillow. "Hurry back, mi amore."

I continue climbing out of his bed, making sure not to touch him again. This has never happened before, to repel the touch of my mate? Perhaps it was a flu again of some sort, human germs loved to attack my immune system. My head feels woozy as I stand, but I push past. I needed that water more that I wanted to lie back in bed and groan until the pain went away.

I crack the door open, not looking back to Cesare. My toes curled into the carpet with the want to flee. My balance was uneven with how heavy I felt, taking small steps forward with my hand along the wall. I couldn't see in the dark, not without shifter advances, but I'd been to this house enough I should be able to navigate my way to the staircase.

Sweat collects in my pores and beads over me, even without the blankets swathing me. I grip the railing, eyes closing as pain racks through me. It was a large enough burst that Aris should feel it, all the way back in Greece. Questions would be asked, I wouldn't have the answers. I breathe heavy when light blinds me, causing the groans of protest to weasle from my throat. The bond with Cesare stirs when he hears me. My anxiety picks up, my heart thumping in my chest.

The door swings open behind me, and Cesare's voice is distorted in my eardrums. The white light finally breaks, but the black hallway doesn't replace it. No railing, no stairs. Rather my body chills and jaw slacks, taking in the scenery. My heart nearly quits, brain wrapped around the colour scheme.

White dress, grey suits. All I can see is the bottom of my skirt, the white lace flowing farther than I could ever imagine. The tail meets black shoes, well scuffed. Thick legs are shielded with ironed silver slacks, the creases sharp to the hems. The jacket is well tailored, fitting over a black dress shirt. A white rose is folded into his pocket, black tie disguised neatly. My eyes trail up to his collared neck, but before I can see his face a loud squeal redirects my attention. To the side there is a young boy, no taller than the man's thigh and in a matching suit. The floor beneath is white and so are the walls, making the boy float. His hair is an angelic blond, eyes a murky green with odd flecks of hazel. Another cry makes my head snap to the side, meeting the same oval shaped eyes. The little girl is sitting on chubby knees, lace socks soft on her fresh skin. Yet it is her face that attracts my attention. Her eyes glow the colour of Aris' when he gets mad, yet she didn't have the right genetics to shift. Her hair was ever so long for a baby, the black curls elegant down her back. She was clearly my baby, with hair like that. Yet as I looked to the young boy again, his hair was blond and skin as pale as snow. He had my eyes, but my only blond mate was Roman. And Roman was dead. I spin in the white abyss, searching for my son, my real son. All I see are the two heads clearly related to me, and the waist of a grey suit. Are these his children? I force my wavering vision to his neck, anticipating the blond of his hair, but it never comes. Before my vision can pass his shoulders, the light breaks and I sink into the black hall.