Tears began to sting the corners of Annika’s eyes. The Eye of Marillia… That’s what Finn had called that star. She envisioned the ride home with him from the Perperuna dance. She could almost hear the drumbeats around the bonfire on the lakeshore. She could nearly feel his body against hers in the saddle as he recited the myth behind how the moons came to be. Once upon a time, they’d been a single satellite, representing Marillia’s dream of eternal love. When The Darkest of Dreams broke Marillia’s heart, her dream of eternal love broke along with it, splitting into Badra and Vega. Placed in different orbits, and only full at the same time once every four weeks, they were destined to spend eternity as star-crossed lovers.
“What did the Darkest of Dreams do to break Marillia’s heart?” Annika found herself asking.
Heron gave a bitter, derisive laugh. There was definitely fairy brandy on his breath.
“Who’s to say? Perhaps he wasn’t ambitious like the gods of war, nor was he as rich as the gods of prosperity. I’ve always entertained the notion that he neglected to call on her when he said he would. I’ve seen many a lass claim her heart was broken over less.”
“Sure, but it must’ve been way worse than that for Marillia,” Annika argued. “I thought Badra and Vega split in two because the Darkest of Dreams completely shattered her heart. The moon was her dream of true love, until he came along. It’s the Darkest of Dreams for crying out loud—whatever he did to break it had to be a lot worse than not calling her back.”
“Well now…as you said yourself, it’s the Darkest of Dreams we’re speaking about,” he agreed and knelt down on one knee beside her. “If you wish to know the truth, I expect you’ll have to consider some rather dark options. What’s the worst thing you can think of?”
“Maybe he promised to marry her and never did,” Annika guessed. “Or maybe he jilted her at the altar.” Heron shook his head.
“That’s unfortunate, but not awful. I think you’ve forgotten that the Darkest of Dreams isn’t a dream of any kind.”
“It isn’t?”
“No,” Heron said while continuing to shake his head. “He’s an absolute nightmare. What might that look like, in terms of a shattered heart? You must think of something much more vile and heinous than simply being jilted at the altar.” A shadow passed across his beautiful face, making him appear almost sinister. He raised his eyebrow and moved closer to her. “Perhaps he seduced her sister. Perhaps he gave her a child that he refused to acknowledge. Perhaps the child died and he gave her no solace. Perhaps he only sought his own comfort…between the legs of a whore. What do you think, Annika? How wicked do you think the Darkest of Dreams was to poor Marillia?”
Annika’s eyes widened in shock at his terrible suggestions. She couldn’t think of anything worse than what he’d said. Heron settled his gaze upon hers and gave a contented sigh. The flavor of sweet alcohol and stone fruit hit her nose, making her dry tongue feel like sandpaper. She’d been stupid to take a piece of cake with her and not bring something to wash it down with, and she regretted taking that last bite of it a moment ago. Her eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for a pitcher of water or a bottle of wine, or even the glass of fairy brandy Heron must’ve been drinking from. There was nothing to be found. Nothing but his presence wading closer and closer towards the deeper end of her mind. She’d imagined holding him close while tearing him apart…now she wasn’t so sure if that had been wise. Clearly he’d read that thought and seen that vision. She swallowed hard and tried not to squirm. He only seemed pleased by her discomfort. He leaned closer, pushing deeper into her psyche, relishing the experience of being so close to the edge of those forbidden places in her mind. Then as if taunting her physical thirst, the tip of his juicy pink tongue crept out and licked his bottom lip. A wet sheen of brandy-laced saliva highlighted the softness of his delectable, succulent mouth. Was that apricot flavor she detected? Was there more of it to be had? His sly grin suggested that the answer was yes, if she passed his test.
“How wicked do you think he was to Marillia?” he pressed. “How wicked do you think he can be? How would you go about it, Annika?” He drew nearer to her and narrowed his suspicious eyes. “What’s the cruelest way you can imagine to completely shatter a man’s heart? What about the hearts of two brothers? What about the hearts of an entire family?”
She turned to run, but a strong arm had already grabbed onto the bookshelf behind her, blocking her. Another arm fell down beside her, caging her between them, trapping her against Finn’s books and Finn’s ghost. But this ghost was flesh and blood, and he was cursed with Talvi’s eyes. Now they burned with anger.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he warned in a low voice, positioning himself squarely in front of her. Even while kneeling, he still managed to tower over her. “You’re not leaving until I get some answers out of you. What happened between you and my cousins? The papers all say you were having an affair with Finn whilst Talvi worked his fingers to the bone to indulge your lavish tastes. I heard that Finn spent most of his savings on frivolous things for you as well. Is it true that Talvi found the two of you in bed together? How long did you deceive them before you drove them both mad with jealousy?”
No wonder she hadn't been allowed to read any of the newspapers, if these was the kind of lies they were printing. She reached up to clasp her hands over the protective amulet resting on her chest, which was hidden out of sight underneath her dress. She begged for it to save her from the impending attack, although Heron hadn’t laid a finger on her…yet.
“You’re not supposed to ask me about what happened!” she said in a shaky, yet defiant voice. “Not for a month!”
“Yes, but you’ve forgotten that custom only applies to strangers.” He glanced down his nose at her and gave a twisted smile. “You and I are not strangers. We’re family…and I want to know what it was that both of my cousins saw in you,” he said, watching her with intense determination. “I want to know why Finn bothered with someone so fucking ordinary, and I want to know what made him mad enough to fight his brother over you. Talvi’s had whores far prettier and more clever than you, you know—more than I can count—but he was never so daft as to marry one of them!”
Unfazed by Annika’s fearful expression, Heron positively glowered at her as he continued.
“Did you know that when he’s hanged, you’re to inherit everything he owns? You of all people! You, who only knew him for what, a fortnight before you were wed? You don’t deserve to inherit anything of his! You don’t even deserve the name he gave you! Why would either of my cousins do such a thing for someone like you? What did they see that I cannot?” He gave her curves a quick once-over, evaluating her figure with a sneer of disgust. “All I see is a selfish little modern girl with a flat ass. You are so absolutely fucking ordinary! The only reason I can imagine as to why he married you is that you must have one hell of a cunt.”
Annika’s open hand swung out from her amulet and slapped hard against the left side of Heron’s face. He barely flinched. In fact, his eyes actually lit up with what could only be described as delight.
“You hit like a girl. Try hitting like a woman.” Enraged, Annika made a fist and punched him in the throat. Judging by the surprised look on his face, this time there was no mistaking the impression she’d made on him. She tried to flee once more but he grabbed onto her dress, holding her in front of him. “That’s better,” he choked, although he was grinning. “But you still hit like a girl. A selfish, spoiled modern girl with a flat ass.”
She lifted her knee towards his groin but missed, sinking it into his inner thigh instead. He held firmly onto her, taunting and teasing while refusing to fight back. How had nobody warned her about this wild animal running loose on the property? Maybe this was the reason he wasn’t allowed inside the house. Regardless, she hated Talvi for leaving her to deal with this monster. She hated him for leaving his bedroom that awful night, especially because she’d specifically asked him not to go. She had begged him,
and he’d ignored her. Dismissed her. And killed his brother over her. She hated him so much for all of it. She also hated Finn for being so careless, so stupid, so arrogant to think he could win a fight against a trained assassin with decades of experience. She hated both of them for making her feel this anguish throughout every bone in her body. She hated her role in the situation as well. She hated that she was now something besides human, something that wasn’t in control of her own body anymore…at least not during the three days of the year that had led to all the death and destruction she was surrounded by now. She hated that her presence only brought pain to the surviving Marinossians. And now she hated Heron.
All of her pent-up rage rose up in her chest like an erupting volcano, and she inflicted it on the living memory of Talvi and Finn, hitting him again and again. Her supernatural punches were strong enough to have broken human bones, yet they barely bruised her opponent’s powerful body. She threw blow after blow to his face and his neck, along with driving her knees into his torso and thighs again and again, and still he didn’t retaliate. The more that he grinned the harder she hit him, until the adrenaline started to wear off and she could feel her knuckles beginning to bruise. She was growing winded from the drawn-out one-sided assault. Maybe that was exactly what he wanted. He certainly looked like that’s what he wanted. There was blood on his cheek and his mouth, along with a smile of pure gratification. Somewhere in between her jabs and blows, she could feel his mind open up to hers, and she could feel his pleasure oozing from his mind and into her own. The presence of that distinct sensation spread through her like a thick warm liquid, leaving a heady buzz in its wake.
He didn’t have to say it out loud—she already knew he could go on like this indefinitely. This was what he wanted. This felt good to him. This could get out of hand. It already was. He could outlast her, overpower her, overwhelm her with the fact that he was well-acquainted with his dark side, while she was terrified of confronting hers. Unlike Annika, the edges of Heron’s mind had no gradual descent that led to the deep end, no shallow waters covered by a layer of pretty water lilies to hide the darkness below them. No, there was only a handful of reeds that one could cling onto, and then there was the abyss that would swallow her whole…just like that heron who swallowed the little ducklings. This struggle with Heron the Hunter needed to end before she completely exhausted herself. Having no other moves left to make, she tilted her neck backward and then slammed her forehead against his face. It hurt more than she was expecting, but it was effective. He let go of her just long enough to give her the chance to escape. One foot barely got in front of the other before a firm hand grabbed her by the ankle. The next thing she saw was the stone floor rising up to greet her.
3
Heron the Heavy-Handed
Annika’s blue eyes flickered open. She hadn’t been knocked out for long. The stone tiles were cold and hard against her cheek where she was now lying on her stomach. It felt good against her sweaty body, although her head was throbbing and an immense weight was crushing her into the floor and making it hard to breathe. Her parched lips and dry mouth only made it worse. She felt a pair of long legs sitting astride her and a pair of strong hands holding her wrists tight against her back. She heard Heron’s heavy breathing from above and her face crumpled as she realized what was coming next. No wonder he wanted her to use up her strength beforehand. That way she wouldn’t fight so hard when he pushed up the hem of her dress to find out what Talvi had found so enchanting about her.
She watched Cazadora flutter down from Finn’s desk and waddle towards her, hoping that the raven was coming to intervene. She was small, but she could easily peck Heron’s eyes out. Instead, the bird walked straight past her and over to the piece of partially-eaten cake that had fallen to the floor. Annika suddenly felt that no matter what Heron did to her, Cazadora still wouldn’t do anything to help. No, she’d probably just keep pecking at that piece of cake until it was gone.
“She doesn’t care about you,” a cruel voice snarled from above. He’d heard her thoughts plain as day. “I can see that she’s never formed a bond with you, which is telling since she’ll latch onto anyone who feeds her or gives her the slightest bit of attention.”
Annika tried struggling out of his grip, but it was pointless. She tried to look into his eyes, but that was impossible. She took as deep of a breath as she could and let it out slowly. Something wasn’t adding up. If he wanted to force himself on her, he should’ve done something about it by now. True, he was holding her down, but he wasn’t lifting up her dress or unbuttoning his pants. His grip was firm and strong, yet he wasn’t groping her or actually even hurting her. The pain in her hands was from hitting him. It was as if he had no idea what to do with her. Maybe he was afraid of losing control now that he had it.
Maybe they were interlocked like two stags fighting for dominance. Sometimes their antlers became so intertwined that the animals starved to death that way. Yes, that felt more like what this was. Annika wasn’t ready to give up or give in. She was sick of things happening to her and being powerless to do anything about it. She didn’t have a lot of options, lying face-down on the floor. The only thing she had going for her was that her mind was still intertwined with Heron’s.
“So, Cazadora likes anyone who gives her attention? Is that what you want from me, Heron?” She made no effort to hide the mockery in her voice. Too tired to care, she dialed it up and put on a pout. “Are you lonely, Heron? Is that why you asked me to stay? Do you want me to give you attention, even if it’s negative? Do you want me to smack you around some more? I know the pain gets you off. That’s why you won’t hit me back…because you want me to do it to you. I know you’re only doing it so you can feel something besides this shitty feeling we both have right now.”
His body stiffened enough to reveal that she’d hit a nerve. She could sense it in his thoughts just how raw of a nerve she’d struck, yet there was only silence from his lips. It was impossible to know the exact effect her words were having on his mind. She knew what kind of effect they were having on her, though—they were making her stronger. They were giving her power. When fear was in charge of filtering her thoughts she saw Heron as the one with all the power, and she imagined him capable of the darkest atrocities. At the very least they were the darkest ideas.
Now she realized that she was the one holding onto that power. Maybe they both were, but the point was that he didn’t have it all to himself anymore. She could be just as dark. She could be darker and more twisted than he ever imagined her capable of being. She knew where her strengths lie in that moment, and it was scary to consider channeling them. A moment of self-doubt stood in her way. The idea would probably work if she had the guts to go there. Was she going to run from her darkness, or would she try to embrace it like her assailant did? His breath was slowing down, but his grip wasn’t letting up. Her idea was such a cheap shot, a low blow if ever there was one, although if Talvi had taught his wife anything, it was that sometimes the only way to survive was to fight dirty. Annika let her frown melt into a grin of temptation.
“I don’t know how much longer I can fight you, Heron. Do you want a different kind of attention from me? Isn’t that why you’re holding me down? Because you want to find out for yourself why Talvi married me? Do you want to find out right here on the floor?” She arched her back, pressing the ass that he called flat against his warm inner thighs.
“Are you bloody mad? Stop doing that!” he warned as he tried to shift his body away from making contact with the back of her dress.
“Maybe you could bend me over Finn’s desk and fuck me there instead?” She closed her eyes and let herself indulge in the thought. She couldn’t physically strike Heron, but she could assault him with despicable thoughts that he wouldn’t soon forget. The false memory of betraying his cousin would sting a lot longer than a knife in the back, and Annika wanted to brand that image into his brain. She wanted him to smell it; to taste it. It had to feel real enough t
o traumatize him at his greatest weakness, which was his loyalty to his family. She had to make it seem plausible that he’d done something utterly deplorable.
She would fight him as he dragged her to the desk and bent her over the edge, pushed up her black dress, and ripped off her panties. Quills and parchment would tumble to the floor as the two figures in black clothing laid claim to the space. Her fingers would grasp onto the hard edges of the desktop to brace herself against Heron’s strength. He’d unbutton his fly and mount her in one deft motion. She could imagine his blue and green eyes narrowing as he gasped at her slippery wet warmth. If she was right about him, the size of his nose and the shape of his mouth wouldn’t be the only things he had in common with his cousin. If he was anything like Talvi, he’d have to spread her legs as wide as he could to cram his broad length completely inside of her.
He wouldn’t take his time with her—he didn’t respect her enough for that; instead, he’d slam into her until he built up a steady rhythm with his hips. What he wouldn’t know was that she’d be ready for it. She’d enjoy it. She’d let go of the desk and reach down between her legs, using his body for her own pleasure until she came. He wouldn’t have expected her to do that, to defy him and use him like an object, to take back the experience from him and make it hers, to moan so loud for so long that someone was bound to hear her. The sound of her trembling voice would fill his ears, and the thrill of getting caught would arouse him against his will and push him over the edge of ecstasy.
He’d probably cover her mouth with one hand and grab ahold of her shoulder with the other as he leveraged her body closer and filled her to the brim. Every one of his final thrusts would rattle the inkwell across the desk until it fell off the side. A thick, gooey puddle of ink would spill onto the rug underneath of them, growing larger one dark drop at a time. But the stain it left wouldn’t matter to him because the sexual high and the disregard for someone he hated made him forget himself, along with forgetting his pain. And since there was no obligatory waiting period with elven men like there was with human men, he could feel that way as long as he wanted to. Perhaps until dawn, as long as he could hold onto his anger towards her. As long as he didn’t get caught. As long as his back held out.
The Darkest of Dreams Page 5