“That’s great.” Faith beams at me.
“Great, I will definitely be there then.”
“Your mom tells me you actually own your own business too?” She asks me.
“Yes, I do, well I did. Almost six weeks of nothing makes a person start to wonder what happened to it. I tried to call my office, but there was no answer.” I say to her.
“Don’t worry, you will remember after this. Come, we can start, the moon is almost completely up.” Faith says to me and takes me by the hand and pulls me into the centre of the star with her.
“Sit, sit.” Faith says to me and I slowly fold my legs beneath me and land on my cheeks on the hard floor. “Give me your hands.” She instructs me and I gently lay my hands into her open palms.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” I ask her.
“I really hope so short stack. Zaylee would have been a better option, but your mom couldn’t get hold of her.” She replies to me and smiles. “But don’t worry, we are going to exhaust every option we have, and we won’t give up.”
“Okay, repeat after me.” Faith says.
“Moments lost; memories gone.” Faith says and I quickly repeat what she says.
“Moments lost; memories gone.”
“Bring back what was taken, restore what was lost.”
“Bring back what was taken, restore what was lost.” I repeat after she is done.
“Return lost time, return lost moments, return what was taken.”
“Return lost time, return lost moments, return what was taken.” I repeat again after Faith as I patiently wait for something to happen. Anything.
The candles start to flare and burn brighter than before as we continue to chant for my memories. Sweat starts to form on my brow as we continue to repeat the spell, until the candles start to dim once more and the air that was heated returns once more to its normal coolness.
But I feel nothing, no different than I was before the spell. I’m not sure what to do now. I thought I would at least feel something, even a small click of recognition. But I don’t. I’m empty. Faith finally opens her eyes and looks at me, hope filling her eyes as she does. I don’t want to let her down, but I have to be honest enough to tell her.
“I don’t feel any different and the memories aren’t pouring back into my head either.” I say disappointedly.
Faith unlatches her hands and goes to find the book that she left on one of the dining room chairs that line the walls. I see her eyes move over the page as I stay glued to the floorboards.
“It says you need a trigger. Hopefully something will pop up and your memory will start to come back. I don’t think we should try anything else until we are certain this spell didn’t work.” Faith says to me as her eyes scan through the book in her hands.
“A trigger? What kind of trigger?” I ask her.
Faith looks down at the pages of the book again, reading the passages on the spell until she starts to read out loud what it says.
“The book says something about the trigger being personal to you. It must mean something too you.”
“Something personal? What like photographs or like a diary?” I ask faith again. I didn’t bring anything personal with me from home. But if I must drive back, I’ll hop in my car this moment and drive back to the city to get something. I will try anything.
“No, I don’t think so. I think this trigger has to do with what happened in the memories that were lost. Like a person perhaps. But it’s not like you remember meeting anyone new there, so I’m not sure how that will work.” Faith admits to me and I feel my hope slowly dwindle away. I was hoping that somehow it would be like poof, I remember, let me go kick whose ever ass I need to kick who did this to me.
I’m not that lucky, I never have been.
“We will just have to wait and see what happens. But for now, I think we need some wine. Lots of wine and lots of gossip. You in?” I ask Faith, hopefully she is as willing as I am to have me back in her life as I am.
“I’m totally in. Let me order the pizza.” She says to me and runs back into the kitchen to retrieve her phone.
I look down at the mess that is now the dining room floor. I could get the broom, sweep up all the salt and then the mop to get rid of the acidic aftermath of the spell. But I can’t really be bothered. At least, I never forgot, that I’m no witch.
I wave my hand and flick it in the direction of the door. The salt pours out of the house and lands somewhere in the garden, the candles start to float and land on the dining room table once its back on its legs, while the chairs are moving themselves back into position under the table.
I take a look around and it’s like nothing ever happened here. Even the smell of the herbs has left the room, as they went out into the garden with the salt.
“Wow!” Faith says out loud as she comes back into the dining room to where I’m still standing. “Awesome. You have to teach me how to do that.” She says as she gestures to the now clean room.
“One day, I will show you all my tricks.” I say to her and lock arms with her as we make our way to the living room. Where I need gossip and a lot of wine.
Chapter Four
“I am your master, and you are my masterpiece.” - Jacin
~Jacin~
I fade and appear behind Weyland who is fucking nose deep in a book of all things. He doesn’t hear me and if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge me. I walk silently to the other side of the room. Alcohol is my new companion these days and I pour a tumbler of my three-hundred-year-old whiskey, because clearly all those years ago, alcohol didn’t take my fancy, now it somewhat allows me to drown out my need.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I growl out to Weyland as I down the glass in my hand.
Weyland is startled by my presence and slams the book shut. My second in command is getting sloppy. I’m the biggest baddest motherfucker out there, my presence is only known if I want it to be, but he should be able to sense me. Fucker.
“You are getting sloppy, Fucker.” I say to him once the alcohol burns its way down my throat.
“Sorry, I was distracted.”
“I’d understand if you were balls deep in some pussy, but a book?” I question him.
“I found some interesting information, that’s all.” Weyland grumbles out to me but doesn’t look at me. What the fuck is he hiding?
“Yeah, and what information is that?”
“A bond can’t be broken, ever.” Weyland says to me, and the silence stretches between us.
“Are you calling him a liar?” I ask him, I feel the beast inside me come forward.
“Yes.” He simply states.
“Watch it, you might be my second in command, but I’ll still kick your ass.”
“What is it you needed” He asks me, changing the subject. He has some self-preservation still.
These days, it’s getting harder and harder to reign my beast in, keep him content. He wants Natalie, with every fibre in our body, but I can’t give him what he needs, so he doesn’t give me what I need, control. And control I can’t lose. Maybe that fucker did lie to me because, if there was no bond, then why is there a constant pull towards her.
“She remembers, why?” I simply ask. I can’t allow self-doubt to come between us.
“The bond can’t be broken.” Weyland simply states back.
“I feel nothing Weyland, nothing for that woman.” I grind out to him. “Bond or nothing, she remembers beyond my spell, she remembers the Prophecy. Why?”
“Could be a number of things Jacin, she might be stronger than she looks, could be wearing off because of the bond, hell she could have even just pretended not to remember. Who the fuck knows!”
“Fuck!” I shout, and I throw my glass against the wall, by passing Weylands head, and I watch it shatter into a million tiny pieces.
“I can’t deal with this right now! So, get your fucking nose out of the books and do your fucking job!”
“Yes, Sire.” Weyland says to me a
nd my anger starts to peak.
“Don’t you mother fucking sire me, Weyland.” I jab at him, he calls me sire in company, but that fucker knows I hate it.
“Then go find something to relieve your mother fucking anger. You are moping about and its driving everyone crazy.”
“Fuck you.” I say to him and fade back to my house. Crazy doesn’t even begin to describe what is going through me right now.
~ ~ ~
I rage, I kill, I am sin. I’m everything she shouldn’t want in her life, but she is everything I need in mine. I heard her for the first time in weeks, her voice sounds broken, defeated, but she needs to fight. Fight the fuck back if she is to rule. But she doesn’t know what she let between her legs, and when she finds out, she better have that fighting spirit back. When I come for her again, I won’t let her go again, I don’t think I’d survive it, and neither will this world.
I smelt her, for the first time in four weeks. I tried to make myself forget her. I tried to make myself forget her scent, her voice, her body, even her soul. But some things are to ingrained in a person to ever forget, somethings are too combined with your own self, your own soul, that a person can never forget. I fucking remember everything about her. And so does my dick.
That’s why I’m standing under the cold as fuck shower trying to make myself forget. To not need. To not need her. Images flood my mind when I first had my fill of her. Naked, showering, water running down her ample breasts, making its way between her folds. I followed that trail of water then, and I follow it once more in my mind as I slowly run my hand up and down my shaft. I’ve never in my life had to jack off before, there were to many willing bodies, to many women, but I find none appealing now, he finds none appealing, but hers. Now, I’m getting well acquainted with my hand and the memories that won’t leave me alone.
The memories should remain, and I should feel numb. I fucking don’t.
I slowly torture myself with memories of her. How her body felt in my hands, how my cock felt when sinking into her wet pussy. Her noises she would make as I took her, plunging in and out of her pussy. Fuck those noises alone would have been my undoing. Her screams, her biting, her nails digging into my back, my neck. I wanted it all then, I want it even more now.
Fucking need.
Her taste, sweet strawberries, lingers still to this day on my tongue. Me tasting her will never leave my memories. My cock gets harder from the thought and I continue to run my hand up and down my shaft. Pre cum forms at the tip as I slowly run my hand up and down my cock, swiping my thumb over the tip to rub my cum over my cocks head, while slowly bringing my hand down. Its fucking torture right now not to be able to sink inside her welcoming pussy.
The cold water does nothing to me, I don’t know why I bother. My body adapts, my cock grows harder as I continue to remember her. Taking her for the first time. I couldn’t fit inside her pussy, even after the orgasms she had by my fingers and tongue, her muscles clenched around my cock as I eased inside her, it was pure exquisite torture waiting for her body to adapt to my size.
I move my hand up and down my shaft, going fast and slow, gripping it like a vice, like her pussy would do my cock. It’s not the same. But it’s what I’ve got, and I continue to pump my cock with her on my mind until I feel it.
Fucking sunshine.
The beast inside me stirs, and I wait until she appears. I grab hold of the wall and continue to pump my cock. Her presence eases the strain in my cock, clearly that fucking thing has a mind of its own, and thinks it is going to sink itself inside her. Creating another bond and do this whole process again?
Fuck no.
Natalie needs to learn that even though it’s her dreams she walks in, the shit is real. And she is going to remember the monster that haunted her all these years.
I run my hand up and down my cock, gripping it tighter as I reach the tip, rubbing my pre cum over the head of it, and plunging my hand back down, fucking torture right now and she will fucking fix it, one way or another. She is the one that did this to me anyway.
~Natalie~
After Faith left, I fell asleep almost instantly. Like my body wanted to shut down and it was glad when my head finally hit the pillow for it to do so. But a peaceful sleep was wishful thinking on my part. I feel myself starting to fall. I always fall when I sleep. I know where this is going to lead me. To him. Mostly it’s scenes of death, blood and body parts. I’m so immune to the scenes now, my body doesn’t violently try bringing up my dream supper.
They are real, I know now that the dreams I thought I was watching, were in fact actual events taking place. It’s just I wasn’t actually there; I was watching from my dreams. I learnt long ago when I witnessed one of the more gruesome deaths these people had at this monsters hands. Where I ran and ran until I popped right up into my bed. Still feeling the spray of blood from the monster on my body, in my hair. I’ll never forget the sticky residue of the blood slowly making its way down my face. Only it never was there.
I fall and land once again on my feet. But where I’m so used to landing in a dark, wet, cold room, where the air pressure seems to drop, and where I struggle most nights with breathing until my body adjusts. Instead, this time I land on hard wooden floors. Colour of oak, clean and shinning like they have just been polished. I take in the room I landed in. Dark colours make up the room. The bedding is dark, and the bed itself is one of the ridiculously unnecessarily massive ones, where an orgy could take place on. There is a fireplace off to the side with a massive window looking out onto the garden, which is covered in black velvet curtains, which are drawn back to allow the full moon to be seen.
It’s a man’s room. That is for sure. I see no feminine details, none of those scattered pillows on the bed, no trinkets on the tables, hell even the paintings that hang on the walls are pictures of naked woman figures drawn to represent black smoke. I take in the woman in the paintings, they are provocative that’s for sure. The woman’s long hair, which is made to look like smoke covers most of her, but her positions the artist has drawn her in have definitely left nothing to the imagination, even if it is only smoke.
I take in the room again. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to find, what I’m supposed to see this time. It doesn’t look like it’s a place that he will do the things I’m used to seeing. At least I hope not. I find a door in the one wall. It didn’t stand out at first, with it blending in so well into the wall, I wouldn’t have known it was there if there wasn’t a shiny door handle.
I slowly make my way to the door and press my ear on the hard wood. I hear nothing. I’m hoping it is some sort of closet, so I quietly open the door. I know I can float through the damn thing; I keep forgetting that what binds us in real life does not bind me here, but still I forget. It’s my dream after all and it would make life so much more real doing it this way.
As quietly as I possibly can, I pull the handle down, the door pops open and I stick my head inside the room. It’s a bathroom. Like one of the fancy ones you see on TV where everything is done in marble, in this case, black marble, the tiles on the floor are checkerboard black and white. There is a massive tub off to the side of the room, with countertop sinks and mirrors. The sound of running water finally penetrates my thoughts, and I look towards the shower.
My eyes adjust to the dim lighting and I can make out a figure standing in the shower. Shit. I snap my head out of the bathroom, letting out a squeak of surprise. I want to close the door, but then I look back to the room and there is nothing in here for me. I know I was supposed to find something, watch something. But it wasn’t in the room I landed in.
I pop my head back inside the bathroom once again, my eyes are drawn to the shower, the figure doesn’t seem to have moved or noticed the door opening. I make quick work of getting inside the bathroom, and quietly walk over towards the counters. Wait! Why am I sneaking about? I can’t be heard, I just mustn’t touch stuff, or it would look like the object is possessed or something. But with this man, I know
it’s him, I’m drawn to him on a completely different level of sanity, he has me on edge in these dreams. He tracks me. Where no other could.
I make it to the counters and slowly browse the objects on the counter. Men’s stuff, like razors, a comb, gels and cologne litter the countertop. I can’t help myself when I lean down to the cologne and smell it. Spices hit my nose and my body somehow finds comfort in it. I slowly lift my head from the scent, trying to memorise the smell, as if I could. I lift my face from the glass bottle, when I notice something I didn’t think to find.
Hair clips, hair ties are bunched into a little pile on the counter in the corner, a woman’s perfume bottle sits next to the hair accessories, oddly enough it’s the same brand and scent I use. Next, I see a larger wooden hairbrush, that looks exactly like the one I lost. I couldn’t find my brush for days when I was sitting in my trance back home, ended up having to use my old brush, where the little bristle balls have fallen off. But here sits the exact copy of the one I lost. With the same colour of hair knotted between the bristles, and why do I have a funny feeling if I pulled a strand loose, it would be as long as my own hair.
I start to feel it, the panic attack starting to creep its way up my body and latch onto my mind. Why in the ever-loving fuck is my stuff sitting in this mans’ bathroom, next to his own stuff. I want to crumple to the floor, resume the position and just rock myself back to sleep or at least out of this dream walk.
A noise from the shower has me stopping my almost panic attack. I almost forgot the person on the other side of the glass having a shower. I will my body to start moving towards the sound coming from the shower. I need to see who is behind the showers glass doors. Does that make me a perv much?
Maybe, just maybe this time, my dreams never took me to the man that haunted me for so long, just maybe they took me to the man that saved me from the monster himself. People get that lucky in life, right?
I make it to the shower door, which is tinted to obscure the person inside it. But where there should have been steam rising up from the shower spray, I feel a cold breeze. The air around the shower is freezing. Whoever is inside the shower, is having a cold shower. I suck in a deep breath and pop my head inside the shower door. I go right through the door as if it wasn’t even there and my head pops out on the other side of the tinted glass.
The Darkness in You (The Darkness Series Book 2) Page 4