A Welcome Trespasser

 

 

 

 

 

 

Decimation.

De. Ci. Ma. Tion.

Even in my sleep, my chest constricts at the mere thought of the word, and a renewed restlessness seeps into me despite my body’s desire to remain sedated.

Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation…

The familiar voice whispers it to me again and again, saying the unforgettable word over and over, taunting me with his persistence.

His eyes plead even as the rest of his face feigns resolve, unable to truly hide the weight of our circumstance.

I’m so sorry…

Yet, no matter how many times I say it, it’s not enough.

It will never be enough.

My chest burns at the memory, feeling impossibly tight as the air rushes from my lungs. He continues to look at me in silence; the despair behind his eyes haunting, begging for mercy.

Mercy I’d been unable to show.

Mercy I’d been unable to give.

Because I was a coward.

Decimation…

My body is at conflict with both my mind and my immediate environment, a slow stream of chaos threatening to expedite the ambivalence I feel.

Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Deci—

All at once, everything goes dead silent.

The voice suddenly disappears, nowhere to be heard anymore, leaving me in a strange, uncomfortable place of solitude.

But, soon after, I sense the energy around me shift considerably as I continue to sleep, going from stoic and stunted waves to free-flowing, unhindered vibrations.

My mind hums in sync with this new energy’s pace, and it seems to make the energy inside me go through the same rapid transition.

I quickly begin to feel relaxed, my body loosening and unwinding like a tautly-stretched slinky that’s been released, allowed to recoil once again. The tension that’s been bunched up in me for days starts to escape, leaving my muscles without hesitation, seeping out of them like water out of a broken pipe.

I feel…strangely fluid; sated and at ease, in a way I don’t think I ever have.

I also begin to feel something else.

Turned on?

I can’t entirely be certain, but it kind of feels that way.

It’s hard to explain. I feel strangely energized, with a renewed sense of vitality and purpose—which is crazy considering all the events in the last week and a half, and what’s still to come.

Including this issue of decima—

Abruptly, out of absolutely nowhere, I feel a hard blow to my face and the accompanying sting of its effect on my cheek.

My eyes fly open and immediately go into attack mode without thinking, acting solely on impulse, ready to pulverize my assailant.

A rogue Metalli, is all I can think.

I easily flip the perpetrator onto his stomach, pushing him head-first into the pillow.

I vaguely register muffled screams that sound far too effeminate to be male. Slowly, consciousness begets clarity, and soon I realize what I’m doing—and more importantly, who I’m doing it to.

Holy. Fucking. Hell…

Kitty-Cat!

I instantly release my grip on her head and pull her up for air. She instinctively swats at me in fear, and though I understand the reason for her reaction, watching her trying to scurry away from me because she’s afraid makes me feel like a billion daggers just went through my back.

She breathes hard and audibly, taking in huge gulps of air. I will more lights on and see her form clearly. She places one of her hands on her chest, still struggling to breathe normally as my own hands continue to hold her down.

After a few moments, she regains her composure—well, a tiny bit of it, anyway—and I can’t help but stare at her as she lies underneath me.

When I can finally force my lips to move, all I can manage is, “Ki…Kitty-Cat?”

It’s more of a confirmation of her presence than a question. My voice is strained from the usual grogginess that comes with sleep, but more so from the sheer shock of actually seeing her again so unexpectedly.

And in such a manner, no less.

Her hand moves from her chest to her neck as she clears her throat, and instinctively, my eyes follow the motion, only to linger on her slender column as she rubs at the bare skin there.

There are subtle hints of redness where I gripped it, and while I didn’t mean to hurt her, the thought of wrapping my fingers around her neck again is undeniably gratifying.

Her lips slant into a deep frown, enunciating their fullness. She looks up at me again. Her eyes are seething and her glare is unapologetic, boring into me with unveiled irritation and disbelief.

“What the hell is your problem?” she barks incredulously, her voice dripping with accusation.

Despite my innate enthusiasm at seeing her again, her hostile tone encourages a frown of my own.

Me?” I counter, my eyebrow arching impulsively. “What the hell is your problem, slapping me like that while I’m asleep?”

Before she can say anything else, the comforter slides off both our bodies as I adjust myself on the bed…and what I see next literally steals my breath.

Her body.

Her entire fucking body.

Completely bare.

Wedged between me and my bed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I swear involuntarily, unable to tear my gaze away from her naked form.

 

Unable and unwilling.

 

I think I just fucking died from optical failure and went straight to seventh heaven.

Instantly, I feel my cock jump, excitement and lust rushing carelessly through my body, threatening to eat me alive.

 

I can’t stop looking at her.

 

Admiring her.

 

Her body is so fucking sexy; gentle slopes and curves in all the right places, all bundled into a unique, quiet sensuality.

 

Simultaneously erotic and innocent.

 

A paradox of sorts.

 

One I don’t think I’ve witnessed with anyone; mortal or otherwise.

 

Her eyes move down the length my torso and settle there, her gaze suddenly drenched in absolute shock.

 

Shock and… something else.

 

That’s when I realize:

 

She’s staring at my dick.

 

I hear the faintest hint of a sigh as she inhales, suppressing what I’m sure would have been a very audible gasp.

 

I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. Can’t believe that she’s right here, sprawled so obscenely underneath me with all the innocence in the world etched into her face.

 

I want to touch her.

 

Desperately.

 

But I have to get my wits about me before her scent completely takes over my senses and any chance at coherence again.

 

“What are you?” I ask in all seriousness, trying with extraordinary effort to ignore my raging hard-on.

 

Her eyes meet mine again, slightly glassy now. “Pissed off,” she retorts, her brows furrowed. Her upper lip is taut with tension, her mouth still drawn into a frown, and I’m even more tempted to bite on it now.

 

I find myself chuckling at her feistiness. I realize that I actually like the fact that she doesn’t walk on eggshells around me.

 

It’s…refreshing.

 

While I would normally find that kind of behavior irritating, with her, I can only shake my head in amusement.

 

“You seem to have a thing for trespassing, Kitty-Cat,” I say, on the verge of panting as my eyes continue to devour her perky tits.

 

You seem to have a thing for groping me every chance you get, Grim,” she shoots back, her voice raspy, her tone telling. She’s all too aware of where my gaze is.

 

I arch my brow, my eyes rising to meet hers again. “Grim?”

 

“My new nickname for you,” she says simply. “Since you seem to have a thing for those, too,” she adds wryly. She has a daring smile in her eyes that doesn’t transcend her lips, as if she knows she’s testing me and is having a swell time doing so. She slightly cocks her head to the side in a small show of defiance, emphasizing her words.

 

My lips curve in a wide smile, and I can do nothing to stop them. I breathe in, relaxing my grip on her but still holding her firmly in place. I bring my face closer to hers in a false show of intimidation, our lips just inches apart.

 

“Do you make a habit of just waltzing onto other people’s property whenever you feel like it?” I whisper.

 

She narrows her eyes at me, but the action only enhances the warmth of their dark brown color. “Do you make it a habit of strangling people in your sleep?”

 

“Only ones that invade my home,” I retort, suppressing a chuckle. “And do you always have to have a snarky comeback for everything?”

 

“Only when I’m getting strangled,” she counters, the raspiness of her voice even more sensual than I remember.

 

This time, I can’t stop the low laugh that rumbles out of my chest. “Oh, you’re having a ball just firing away at me, aren’t you?”

 

She arches her brow, mimicking me. “Oh, I haven’t even started yet.” She tries to suppress a smile as she says it, but fails. Her lovely lips curve up into a mischievous grin as her warm eyes dare me to go on.

 

A smirk finds its way onto my own mouth, and I’m about to make another attempt at a comeback when a very familiar wave hits me like a million bulldozers.

 

Her scent.

 

***

 

Series Navigation<< The Basilisk’s Creed: Chapter Forty-SevenThe Basilisk’s Creed: Chapter Forty-Nine >>
THIS CHAPTER MAKES ME FEEL...
  • Fascinated
  • Happy
  • Sad
  • Angry
  • Bored
  • Afraid

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