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Not for the first time, I wake in a cold sweat.
My legs stick to the sheets, as does my torso, rioting in my skin as I tighten my grip on the blanket. Beside me, Cal snores, shoulders trembling as I hold my breath. But he doesn’t wake. No.
I am alone, as I always have been.
I clutch my head, limbs shuddering, every inch of me shaking with regret. He’s in my dreams. He’s in my dreams, and he’s never coming out.
Worse . . .
I shift, and wetness brushes against my core, my underwear soaked in what I now know isn’t water. My bloods heats. Idiot. A nightmare is a nightmare, even if I found pleasure in it. Even if it placated some base, empty part of me. There was no denying the depths of Maven’s evil, the lengths he would go to make me his. No denying the horrors he would never stop unleashing.
The first night they came, I thought it was real. That he’d found me despite our efforts, despite all we’d done to run from him. My fingers dig in my chest. His notes burn bright at my side.
We don’t choose who we love. I wish, more than anything, that we could.
My nails claw at my chest, digging for something I cannot find. I’m a traitor. I’m a traitor, and nothing I’ve done has stopped it. Not Cal, not Kilorn, not the cause–I’m sleeping with the enemy, and he doesn’t even know it.
And if I’m not captured, he never will.
My hands drift down my stomach, back arching as lust clouds my head. Sometimes I ravage him, let bruises form beneath my hands as I take what the real Maven would never let me. It’s magnetic, watching him flinch for me. It’s magnetic, watching him curse and writhe and scream.
Sometimes, he ravages me.
It’s the guiltiest dreams, the ones I cannot justify, the ones where my body betrays me and arches beneath his gaze. He takes and takes and leaves me drained, so drained, shuddering with ecstasy as I grip the sheets beneath me. But I’ve never managed to come to him before.
Not until tonight.
My fingers work through my core despite me, stroking hard and deep as his tongue against my clit. He’d taunted me, how my fingers had curled in his hair, how I’d tossed my head back and tugged his tongue this way and that. Foul boy. Sweet mouth. If I saw him again, I’d kill him. If I saw him again, I’d tear him limb from limb.
But for now, I use him.
My limbs shudder one last time before I melt, sinking into sin and all I shouldn’t be. My throat bobs. What would he think, knowing I dream of him? What would he think, knowing I want him beneath me?
Nothing good, surely. But I’ll kill him before it comes to that. For now, I stare out the window, at the sky too clouded to bear any stars. I bury myself in the covers and squeeze my eyes shut.
If I don’t stop this, it’s going to get me killed.
When night falls the next day, I burn from the inside out. Burn like I will never feel again, heat crashing through me as I try to dull the ache. An arm lies atop me, feathering the arch of my back as it travels to my shoulder. A nose nestles in the base of my neck, hand caressing my hip in soft, slow circles. My heart races. Since when did Cal–
Oh.
Oh no.
A lump rises in my throat as every part of me starts to pound. I twist away, and he lets me, my fist flying to bust his face. But it doesn’t hit. No. Some force keeps me back, making me halt within inches of his face. I grit my teeth, pushing harder.
He pulls me closer, tilting my chin. His eyes glisten in the dim light, smirking, their color dark and unmistakable. Bold. Bright.
Blue.
Hello, lightning girl. His lashes flutter, lips tugging with soft satisfaction. It’s rude to stare.
Fire sparks beneath my chin, and I tense. But it doesn't burn me. It just flickers, a quiet threat, a haze of smoke curling in the darkness. My fingers twitch. “Maven.”
His lips tug. That is my name, yes. He leans closer, eyes darkening.
I said I would find you.
My heart pounds, aching, the rest of the memory snapping into place. His voice echoes through the quiet, and I can’t tell where it comes from. If it falls from his lips or my own mind.
I said I would save you.
I twist away, a sharp exhale. “You won’t.” I lower my head, and it still won’t burn. “I know better now.”
Oh, Mare. He chuckles. When have you ever known better than me?
My hands clasp around his wrists and slam him against the wall, digging into his flesh as he grunts in what must be pain. I pant, leaning as close as I dare. “You’re not as smart as you think, Maven.” My breath feathers his ear. “If I were you, I’d kill me already.”
His teeth gleam in the darkness. Now where’s the fun in that?
I bare my teeth, and he laughs. There isn’t a life I wouldn't give to wipe that smirk off his face, no lie I wouldn’t tell to rid myself of him once and for all. “Your days are numbered.” My hand grazes his throat, and he arches, melting into the touch. “You know that?”
His smile gleams, the glint of a knife. Oh I don’t keep count, my love. Not when I always spend them with you.
My lips part, trembling, and he catches them with his teeth. This Maven’s kiss is nothing like the old one, all teeth and tongue and desperate, aching hatred. If he falls, I want to see it. If he falls, I want to land the final blow.
I pull him closer, growling. I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming, and I haven’t woken up. I want this. I want him, the boy that never was, the boy that never will be, the boy who promised the world so he could destroy everything I held dear. I want to kiss the monster out of him. I want to claw his tongue from his throat. I want everything and nothing, and the void threatens to consume me whole.
In the meantime, I spit.
He hisses, drawing back. You’re disgusting.
“You’re worse.”
Oh, really. His fingers twitch, reaching for my throat, but I clamp down harder, forcing him to choke. At least I know when to keep my tongue in my mouth.
I yank him by the hair, ravaging his lips again. “But do you want to?” My whisper is soft, lethal. “Would you give me up, for your so-called dignity? Would you give me up, to pretend you were in control?”
No. He bites my mouth, tangling his hands in my hair. I don’t need to.
I tremble, hands feathering his jaw as I force him beneath me. His mouth parts, cheeks flushed, and I know I’ve done my job. Know he’s as firmly in my web as I am in his.
But it isn’t real. It can’t be. No dream will ever make him mine, and no dream should, even if it makes my blood spike with pleasure. Even if my heart gallops as he groans into my ear. Oh, Mare. He exhales, voice thick with satisfaction. You’re doing so good, just–
My hips slam into his, and he chokes, thrashing in my grip. “Shut up.” My voice is rough, ragged. “I’m not being good anymore than you are. So don’t fucking lie to my face.”
He leans back, smile darkening. Then I suppose we’re being awfully bad, aren’t we? His shirt slips off one shoulder, eyes glazed and heady. I think I like that better.
I rip it off before I can process it, before I can stop myself from staring at his bare chest. He gasps, hands flying to shield him before he seems to think better of it. I lower my gaze. “Didn’t think you had any modesty in you.”
He flushes, looking away. Maybe. His lashes flutter. But not with you.
For a moment, I see him again, the boy he was, and I almost choke. Almost relax my grip and melt against him. But I am stronger than that and always will be, even as he lays a hand on my cheek. It’s okay, Mare. My name in his mouth is an awful, dreadful thing, but I can’t stop myself from wanting it again. They’ll never learn what we do here. He tips his head back, lips parting. You’re free, lightning girl.
I bite into his neck, his hands digging into my hips, his fingers drifting, drifting, drifting until they’re at my waistband. “Your mother cut Sara’s tongue from her mouth. Are you gonna make me do the same to you?”
His free hand caresses my hair, the other feathering my clothed core. Please. He snorts, pressing harder, and I can’t stop my legs from jerking open at his touch. You love to hear me moan, don’t you? Love to hear me say your name. He works beneath the fabric, wrenching out a sharp gasp. You love being in my bed, dear. At least I don’t hide how badly I want you.
I tremble. Again, I feel hands that aren’t there, feel the chill of judgment slipping down my spine. I grit my teeth. “This is my bed, Maven. You came to me.”
Oh? His brow arches. And is this how you’d treat me, if I were really here? His eyes flutter shut, fingers digging deeper into my core. You’re even worse than I am.
“I’d kill you. I’d–”
Not in our evils, of course. But in foolishness . . . He tips his head back, laughing. It’s no contest.
I shut him up with another rock of my hips, hands leaving his neck to clamp over his mouth. My breath comes out in heavy pants. “Shut up.” I press harder, and he grunts, harsh and muffled. “Shut up, you hear me?”
His fingers curl against my sweet spot, a sharp breath as he shoves another inside. I don’t want to look. Don’t want to see his face as I find release. His hips buck against my flesh, something hard and firm pressing against my core. I gasp, forcing my eyes shut, leaning into the bliss with a sigh of defeat. I lay with a boy in the Stilts, once. Let our bodies slide together until he finally let go, leaving me on the cot as he went to clean himself up. I don’t remember his name, only that it was disappointing. Here . . .
Come for me, Mare. His hand feathers my hair, light and tender. Come for yourself, if nothing else.
He nibbles my jaw, hand at my breast, gripping so tight it starts to ache. So tight I start to moan, undone, unraveling in his hands as he shoves in a fourth finger. But I don’t finish just yet. No. I need to see him break for me. Need to see him as shattered as I am.
I dig my fingers into his waist. “You first.”
He stares at me, eyes lidded. Oh, I come to you enough on my own time. It’s not every day I get to see you do it.
I flush, his hand brushing my hair as I try to steady my heartbeat. A nightmare is a nightmare. Still, I can’t stop my hands from fluttering across his chest, from digging for something I cannot, will not find.
The next day brings more newbloods, another note, Maven’s voice echoing in the quiet. He sinks into the mattress and lets me bite him, closing his eyes as I ruin myself again and again. He’s so beautiful. So ugly. If I could, I’d turn him inside out, watch the bits of him trickle down the drain as I pick him off piece by piece. Make a new, better Maven from the ashes.
My breath hitches. By my colors, I'll never escape.
And at this point, I don’t know if I want to.
Beside me, Cal stirs, and my breath hitches. Have I moaned in my sleep? Have I seemed to writhe, to beg, to say a name that can’t ever be?
Nightmare, I’d say. A truth, however strained. However much I can’t believe it anymore. However much I burn at his eyes in the darkness, gleaming with mirth as I fix on them again.
Play with me, he whispers.
It’s all the incentive I need to pounce, to twist his arm behind his back as I strip him bare. His lips twist in a savage tilt, spreading as I tug his tie from his neck. He leans back, sighing. You’re so easy, Mare. Always itching for a fight. He spreads his legs, letting me perch on his length, fingers twining in mine as my blood starts to pound. Make me work for it, at least.
I scowl, tightening my grip on his collar. “You come, you lose.”
In that case . . . Maven pulls me closer, a soft groan. You come– He grins. I win.
My fingers trail down his shirt, plucking each button off with devastating ease. It’s a losing game, I know, but it still excites me, still appeases some sick desire for revenge. I rock my hips against his, warmth creeping down my spine. Maven’s eyes slide past me, gaze landing on the body on the other cot.
He’s right next to me.
He’s right next to me, and I’m still not stopping.
Maven caresses my waist and hips, fingers splaying on the band of my underwear. Keep going, darling. Don’t let him ruin our fun.
Our fun. As if Maven and I were ever anything more than pain. As if this wouldn’t ruin what little faith Cal had in me. I slow, breath hitching, drawing back as he tries to pull me closer. His voice whispers for me to let go.
I force myself to wake instead.
My hand rakes through my hair as I clench my fists, as I force myself to fade until I feel the cot beneath me. I grit my teeth, biting back tears. Next time. Next time, I’ll be strong. Next time, I’ll make him bleed for real. But for now . . .
I grab my pillow and start to scream.
It’s a routine I continue as his horror grows, as the corpses pile at his feet and mine. I kiss him like the world will end if I don’t, like my bones will shatter into painful glass shards. He pulls back. You love me, he whispers. Admit it.
I only kiss him harder.
At least Cal’s bed is empty when I sleep, when I dream he is gone and Maven takes his place. It’s a line I won’t cross again, even subconsciously, especially as his brother clamps his teeth around my neck. My fingers twitch against his hair. “I don’t love you.”
He pulls back, fingers feathering the bruise he left behind. And?
“You don’t love me.”
This is a dream, Mare. He stares down at me, dark and heady. I feel whatever you want me to.
“A nightmare.”
He tips his head back, a hint of a smirk. Whatever you have to tell yourself.
I flinch, barely moving as he wraps his hand around my wrist. Barely moving as he guides it to my core, grinding my hand against it until I finally move. He splits me open on my own fingers, watching as I moan and deconstruct beneath him.
My little lightning girl. He nestles his face in the crook of my neck. What crimes shall we commit tonight?
Crimes. A fitting word. I’ve never felt so much guilt in my life, not when I used Cal, not when Gisa’s hand broke, not when my only job was stealing food to put on the table. No. This is something darker, more sinister, a betrayal of the flesh and my own mind.
And the further I go, the more I fear enjoying it.
Do you not like it? He tilts my chin, lips feathering my throat. Dreaming of me?
His teeth sink into my flesh, and I gasp, gripping his hair until it starts to rip. I can’t remember the morning him, only that it was vicious, some promise in a letter I don’t care to recall. He looks down at me, eyes glazed, shirt slipping down one shoulder as he nuzzles my ear. I dream of you all the time.
I tremble. I don’t doubt it’s true. Don’t doubt the real Maven wants to make me beg. He’s willing to kill to get me back. What’s a few dirty dreams, in the face of that?
It’s so easy. He nibbles my throat like a panther with its meal, licking it in long, sumptuous stripes. Making you flush. His hand cups my cheek, eyes misty and lidded. No more paint. I love it.
I waver. “Don’t look at me like that.” My throat bobs. “Like–”
Like I love you? His hand swoops to my chin, tipping it back. Now, now. Why would I ever do that?
The real thing is probably worse, more violent, more dominant, less about pleasure and more about submission. But here, he bows to me. Here, he can’t take what I won’t let him.
At my chest, the brand burns.
I part his shirt, reveling in each stretch of bare skin as I dig my hands into his hips. He’s not as muscular as his brother, but he doesn’t need to be, not when he has soldiers to fight his battles for him. I breathe him in, the lazy stretch of his thighs, the arch of his back, the tilt of his throat, and wrench his traitorous legs apart.
He only stares.
My thumb feathers the hair of his crotch, searching for the steady thrum of his pulse. I stare him down, the softest of whispers. “Beg.”
His lips quirk, lazy, the rest of him melting into my grip. And why would I do that?
I lower my voice, exhaling on his chest. “Because you want this. Want me.” I look at him through my lashes. “Don’t you?”
Oh, I want much more than your body, Mare. He strokes a path along my cheek. I wanna taste your complete annihilation. My breath hitches as he presses a kiss against my chin. But I’ll settle for that pretty spot between your legs.
Maven finds his way down my stomach, kissing each stretch of muscle until I’m practically grinding into him. My arms shake with exertion as I grip his hair, as I force his tongue to take me deeper, harder, to fuck me without mercy or even a slight pause. He hasn’t breathed in minutes. I don’t think he wants to.
You like that, don’t you? He looks up, lips glazed with my pleasure. His breath feathers my core as he laughs, a horrid, delighted little thing that makes me want to wrap my hands around his throat. I’ll beg for you, Mare, if you beg for me. If I get to be the one to watch you unravel.
“Shut up.” I hike my legs over his head, trapping him between them. “You’re not in charge here, Maven. Now shut up and get me off.”
He draws back, cocking his head. Hmm. He taps his chin, pondering. Could you say ‘please’?
“Kill yourself.”
He tuts. You’re so rude.
The next night, I almost kill him.
My hand curls around a knife and begins to tremble, straining for words that leave me in a cold sweat. I tip his head back with the blade, and the tip digs into his jugular. He hisses. I waver. My grip tightens on the handle, tense and unsteady.
I can’t do it.
He grins, eyes catching the gleam of the metal. What would Cal think, knowing you fuck me every night? That even in your dreams, you can’t escape my ghost?
The blade sinks into the wood as I reach for his neck, slamming him against the wall as we gasp in sync. It’s so smooth, so supple, his pulse galloping as I brush the bruise at his throat. My voice lowers at his ear. “Do you fear me, Maven?”
He barks out a laugh, harsh and jagged. Oh, Mare. Why would I fear what’s already been broken?
I bite his ear so hard it tears, bitter black blood seeping into my mouth. “Yes or no, Maven”.
Yes. He exhales, sharp. I fear you. But not as much as you fear yourself.
I said I would find you.
I said I would save you.
Memories rip between my teeth as I straddle him, as I bite his lips and rut deeper against him. The kiss deepens, and I burn “Beg.” My voice grows raspy, untethered. “Beg, you insolent son of a–”
“Bitch,” he whispers.
I don’t even have the heart to slap him.
I bed him black and blue, but he doesn’t seem to mind. My hands are greedy for his flesh, his moans, his needy voice and desperate whines. His voice is so lovely when it begs. So lovely when it falters, pleads, rasps, says my name like a prayer as he bucks and writhes beneath me.
I will make him surrender. I will make him give himself to me, all of me, the deepest, darkest corners even I don’t want to face. If I must be a monster, I refuse to be a monster alone.
My hips slam against his, and he chokes, whining. My voice is cool, lethal. “Not so high and mighty now, are you?” I caress his face before slapping it, hard. “Beg for it, Maven. Beg like you’ll never get to taste me again.”
He grins, a soft, crooked thing. I want to claw it off with my bare hands. You’ll let me no matter what I do, Mare. But if you insist– His arms relax in my grip, a soft, slow melt. Ravish me, lightning girl. Worship me like the king I am.
My grip loosens on his frame, trembling. It’s a losing battle, per usual, one I can’t seem to escape. He still refuses to come for me. Refuses to accept anything but my surrender, his touch burning through my skin and scorching to the bone. I grit my teeth. “King, are you?” My voice drips with venom. “And here I thought you still bowed to your mother.”
He hisses, gripping my jaw as he pulls me closer. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he might spit. Do not speak about her here. Least of all like that.
I chuckle, sliding a hand along his chest. “Touchy, are we?” My hand grazes his length before drawing back. “Poor little Mavey, doomed to the sidelines. Not even able to enjoy his win.”
He snarls, hands sliding down to grip my throat. But he’s not in charge here. And he never will be. My lips part, lethal. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was your Cal.”
His grip tightens, but I wrench his hand away, pinning it to the ground. “How does it feel, Maven? To be a pawn as much as I was?”
He stares up at me, eyes lidded. Strange, considering you still are one.
I burn, grip loosening, but still holding firm. “We’re not the same.”
No. He exhales, turning to look at his pinned hand. But perhaps we’re . . . even.
My breath hitches. “The fuck does that mean?”
Whatever you need it to. He caresses my cheek, cocking his head. Defeat a monster, become a monster. Isn’t that right, Mare?
I slap him, and he grins. Pretend all you want, my darling. Nothing will ever change your fate.
Jon’s words echo through the room, faint, but still haunting. You will rise. And you will rise alone.
My head pounds when I wake, gaze falling on the sheet balled between my legs. I must’ve kicked it off in my sleep. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. There’s no undoing what I am anymore. My grip tightens against the cot.
And then an idea strikes me, heart-pounding and horrible.
My hands shake. It’s dumb. It’s brilliant. It’ll do everything and nothing, and the temptation thrills me to the bone.
I exhale, staring into the darkness.
And the next night, I pin him down within it.
Maven’s breath hitches, eyes lidded as he stares into mine. Awfully eager, aren’t we? He laughs, a demon in human skin. I don’t blame you. Why, I’d almost think–
I shove my fingers in his ass, and he jerks upright, gasping. His eyes widen, hand flying to his mouth. Mare–
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” My fingers curl and uncurl, reveling in the sound of his moan. If he must be in my dreams, I’m damn well getting my money’s worth
It does, he mutters. A bead of sweat gleams at his forehead, glimmering in the darkness. You always do, Mare.
Any other day, I would flush. Now, my fingers slide out, then back out. Now, he’s the flushed one, head tipped back, panting as I fuck him as deeply as I can. My breath caresses his ear, soft and deadly. “Not so kingly now, are you?”
He doesn’t answer, too breathless for words. My tongue flicks his ear, and he arches into me grinding. “Lay down.” I exhale, dark and heady. “Legs up.”
He obeys, biting his lip as I get between them. My hips shake as I fasten a harness on them, the tip of the dildo gleaming in the darkness. His eyes go wide as he stares at it, a sharp, heady inhale that makes my thighs clench in anticipation. Mare–
I grip the curve of his hip and thrust, the tip already slick with lube. His moan climbs to a sharp keen, desperate, frantic, his voice rough and low as he tries to grip the pillow above him. I lean down, smirking. “Could you say ‘please’?”
Please, he murmurs. The toy slides in him with loud, lewd slaps, with skin on skin as he writhes and twists beneath me. Tears bubble in the corner of his eyes, falling with another thrust. His face is so gray it might as well be iron.
And he finally, finally shatters.
Watching Maven come is more thrilling than I imagined, more triumphant, more delirious. He stares up at me, eyes bleary, sniffling as I finally slide out. It’s the most aroused I’ve been in weeks.
And he isn’t even touching me.
“Maven,” I whisper.
Maven stills, and instantly, the mask rips away, leaving Cal staring at me as cold sinks into my blood. He pants, hands moving to cover himself. “Mare?” His voice cracks. “Why did you say that name?”
“I–” I scramble for words that don’t come, words that catch in my throat and choke me more than his hands ever could. I reach for the knife suddenly at my side.
And then I wake in a cold sweat once more.
My head pounds as I look around, bleary, as I fumble for something, anything to hold onto. Nothing. Nothing but the sound of Cal’s breathing, deep and steady as he sleeps beside me.
I exhale. My core is slick with rotten, sickly desire, pulsing as I peel the sheets away. I won’t say his name when I’m beside him. I owe Cal that, at least.
I stare into the darkness. At my side, the letters burn, aching and twisting as I pick up the nearest one. My lip tears in my teeth. “Get out of my head.” The words hiss out in a rough, ragged whisper. “You don’t belong there.”
All that answers back is the cold, harsh wind.