Wildest Dreams

Seraphine’s breath caught in her throat as Malik’s thumb brushed her face, pushing her hair back. The gesture was gentle, but it sent a ripple through her, a strange blend of comfort and tension. Her eyes darted up to his face, only to drop again quickly when she caught sight of his bare chest, rising and falling with a deliberate, measured rhythm. She tried not to stare, focusing instead on the weight of his words.

The fog in her mind began to clear, pieces of the evening falling into place like shards of broken glass. The hunger—that ravenous, consuming force—flooded back into her memory. She remembered the pursuit, the way her senses had sharpened, the pounding in her veins like a drumbeat urging her forward. And then the taste, metallic and hot, so intoxicating it had drowned out everything else. Her stomach turned at the thought, but her lips parted as if tasting it all over again.

She shuddered, clutching the hem of the oversized shirt. I... I remember, she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. It… was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It wasn’t just hunger. It was need. She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the memory. It wasn’t me.

Her fingers tightened around the fabric as her gaze flicked to him. Waking up in that dress… would have been bad. Wise move. The words were brittle, but they carried a weight that Malik seemed to understand without further explanation. She could still see the blood-soaked silk from that day, the crimson that marked her nameday, the day her family was torn apart in the massacre that had left her broken and alone. Waking up like that again might have shattered her completely.

As he spoke of the curse, her initial reaction was disbelief. No, she said sharply, her voice edged with defiance. It’s not… But even as the words left her lips, the pieces began to fit together. The hunger, the blackouts, the overwhelming instinct to chase and claim—it all aligned too perfectly with his explanation. Her denial faltered, and she closed her eyes against the truth she couldn’t keep out, forcing back the tears.

His voice softened as he spoke of their shared burden, their doomed bloodlines, and the fate they carried. Her anger began to simmer beneath her skin, a slow, burning fury at the way he laid it out as though her future, her life, was something to be dictated by a curse she never chose. Yet exhaustion weighed her down, pressing her into the mattress, leaving her too drained to lash out. Not yet.

Her body tensed as she noticed the way his jaw worked, the way his breathing had quickened despite his efforts to mask it. Her eyes dropped again, just in time to catch the flick of his tongue across his lip. Heat surged through her, her insides twisting with a pulse she didn’t want to acknowledge. She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away, but her voice shook when she spoke.

Don’t… she managed, though whether she meant for him to stop talking or stop struggling, she wasn’t sure. Her own emotions tangled inside her—fear, anger, exhaustion, and a treacherous flicker of something deeper, something she couldn’t name.

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to relax against the mattress, though her body stayed tense beneath the thin covers. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Her gaze flicked to him, sharp despite her weariness, then switched to something in the distance. Sleep is coming…

@Malik Vrai