I love the way that your heart breaks
with every injustice and deadly fate.
He is no one’s great hope, no one’s savior. No one’s fervent, star-crossed desire. No, he is far more likely to haunt one’s nightmares rather than one’s dreams. But he is a monster of the flesh just as much as he could be of one’s feckless imagination. And that, perhaps, is worse.
These are not thoughts that occupy his mind however. His mind is simple, really. Almost childishly so. He has few thoughts, none original. He knows only pain and lust, satisfaction and existence. His world extends no further beyond those bounds. And that is probably what makes him so utterly terrible. He knows no remorse or empathy, because those things simply do not exist in his world. You either understand, or you do not. There is no in between. Nothing to soften the harshness of his existence.
Almost always, they retreat. The burn of his flame is too much for most, and they flee, afraid of the glory he could bring. It is a rare treat when they do not. And that she does not surprises him, as much as he can feel surprise. Though he barely reacts, the pause, followed by a sweet flood of pleasure is nearly palpable.
Perhaps she was not so unworthy after all. Perhaps she has potential.
Only time would tell.
His lips stretch into a macabre grin before he scrapes teeth almost (almost, but not quite) gently along the sharp line of her shoulder blade. It does not draw blood, but the fire no doubt scalds. He is not ready to release his flame, and she does not seem inclined to withdraw. Let her feel it’s sting if she would.
Suddenly, he laughs. The sound grates upon the ears like gravel on steel, but it is the closest to humor or delight he will ever come. “Wrong,” he grates. His train of thought no doubt seems incoherent and stilted, but to him it makes perfect sense. “Not yet,” he growls in a lower tone, dull gray eyes gleaming in the light of his flame. “Soon.”
Raelynx