Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

brIAR

Darkness swirls behind my eyes, a dream I can never escape. Trapped in my mind, I have no concept of how long I’ve been stuck here. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, years? It all feels like some never-ending stretch of time.

Fathomless.

When given the option by the witch to put myself into this slumber, I thought it was much better than the alternative. To be at the mercy of an abomination would be hellacious. But this? This feels so much worse.

A curse.

A spindle.

Death.

That’s all I’ve grown up hearing about. But no one ever said what it entailed, exactly. The only thing I was told was that it was no longer an issue. Thankfully, the kind woman of the woods told me things and educated me about my future.

She’s the one who tried to protect me when no one else seemed to care. A prick of my finger on some odd contraption. That’s all it would take. One drop of blood and I’ll be protected forever.

If not for her… Though, in the throes of this never-ending sleep, I have nothing but time to ponder if this was the correct course of action. I know my father only wished to protect me from the evil swirling through Godwin’s underbelly, but maybe I should have trusted him more?

The kind woman made me feel heard, however. She listened to me when no one else would. She talked to me for hours about everything and nothing. Honestly, she was a far better companion than even my mother.

At least, that’s how it felt at the time.

Now I’m not so sure. Unfortunately, every time my brain tries to think through her words and actions, it feels as if my mind melts, making me forget what was bothering me in the first place. Even now, that odd warmth covers me, sending a dull ache through my skull.

Asleep.

That’s all I am.

That’s all I’ll ever be.

Inside, I can feel myself screaming, but nothing moves. My lips refuse to part and let the sound out. It stays in my head, bouncing about until my mind aches and throbs.

Abomination.

Why didn’t I think things through? Why did I listen so blindly? If Philip is indeed a bastard-born dragon, then how will my true prince come and rescue me? Who can fight a dragon and live?

Abomination.

I long to move my hands, just enough to grasp the Dragon’s Bane I know rests against my chest. Something to feel safe and protected. But what can a mere plant do? Can’t he burn it away and me with it?

Do I long for death so eagerly that I almost wish to feel the heat of his breath against my skin? Deep inside my mind, I can almost feel an extra warmth kissing my flesh. I hadn’t felt it before.

Until now, everything was cold and desolate, a frigid prison with no escape. The whisper of a touch sizzles my brain, bringing all my attention to the nerves that had been left untouched for so long. Or was it merely an hour? A day?

Muddled thoughts come and go as I latch onto the sensation, using it to shore me up for longer days of nothing. Could this be my abomination? Or did some prince vanquish him and is here to rescue me?

My lips nearly tingle with anticipation of the kiss that will wake me up, but it never happens. Nothing brings me out of this darkness. If I could move, I’d ball my hands into fists and slam them against the person I feel touching me, begging them to release me from this torment.

Abomination.

The word keeps bouncing around my skull. It’s the only thing I can hold on to. But how can Prince Philip be what she claimed? He was always so sweet and gentle with me, even as a child. I remember the concern in his eyes whenever he looked at me.

He needn’t worry so. Nothing ever harmed me. As clumsy as I was, I never even managed to get a scrape against my delicate skin. But still, he worried. Even now, in memory, I can see his brows scrunching up as he looks me up and down.

Could he really be an abomination?

And that’s when his mighty roar shakes me to the core. It’s him. I know it’s him. Though I am trapped inside this body, I can hear and feel the anger rumbling off of him. The only thing keeping me from cowering in fear is the fact that I cannot command my body.

I cannot throw myself at his feet and beg for mercy. If only I could tear away the Dragon’s Bane to show him how sorry I am for keeping him at bay. But even as I think it, his fingers graze the sensitive skin as he plucks it from me.

But how can that be? No dragon should be able to pass the barrier. And yet, I know the plant is gone. Should I be grateful to know some other man enters my sacred lair? Or should I fear this stranger more than the man I thought I knew?

This person takes liberties with me no one with honor ever would. My skin burns as he tears away my clothing, ripping it off of me as if it were nothing more than silken strands from a spider’s web.

Then nothing.

I strain in the silence, listening for anything to give me a clue as to what he has planned, but all I can hear is his labored breathing. It matches my own, as if our hearts beat together. Perhaps now? Does he plan to kiss me?

No. He touches me. Finally, he grants my body some other sensation than the nothingness I’ve been forced to reside in. His fingers trail my skin until reaching the part of me I was supposed to keep hidden, sacred, only to be seen or touched by my true love.

The prince.

My abomination.

He touches me as if he owns me, running his fingers over my mound to tug at the last bit of defense I have. Instead of fear, however, pleasure blossoms through my body, making my breath catch and my soul sing. It’s as if my body knows and accepts this man and the things he does to me.

My legs wrench apart, stretching until the joints should ache, but instead of pain, I feel a burst of pleasure. Not like when I was younger and fell. This is altogether far different. It’s a sensation I’ve never known before.

As a child, any injury felt like a flutter of a bird’s wings behind my breastbone. It left me breathless, but that was it. Now, I find the fluttering to be a bit lower, near where he touches me, as if his fingers can make me pulse.

I ache.

I yearn.

I so desperately need.

But for what, I don’t know. It’s as if I’m standing on the edge of this precipice and teetering back and forth. I’m not sure if I want to take the plunge, but something tells me I won’t have a choice.

I feel him again as he touches me, far more intimately than any man has a right to. The heat of his breath scalds me, driving away the chill from my body. For the first time since I fell asleep, I feel alive and warm. Inside my head, I moan, the sound wanton and foreign to my ears.

Such sounds are not becoming of a princess. And yet, as that heat tunnels deep inside me, touching places I never knew existed, I cannot help but cry out, begging for more. Please , I plead, doing what I can to get my lips to work.

They never do.

Every cry, every sound is locked up deep inside, where no one will ever hear it. Why doesn’t he kiss me? Why doesn’t he wake me from this spell? Unless he knows he’s not my true love and wants only to take advantage of my state.

Fear threatens to wrap around me, bringing the chill back in, but with another wriggle of his heated flesh, it drives it away again. I want to live in this moment, to never go back to the lifeless existence I once had. If only I can speak to him, to atone.

If only.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, everything stops. I hold my breath, desperation forcing my heart to pound. Is he gone? Has he left me?

I strain in the silence, but all I can hear is his haggard breath. What game is he playing at? Why does he stop? Is it because he does not know the things he does to me?

But then, how can he actually know? I cannot speak. I cannot utter a single sound to make him continue. Sorrow beats at me as I lie there, still as a statue, waiting for just one more touch.

Just one.

One is all I need.

Then another.

And another.

I want to break free of this prison, and he alone holds the keys.

Why doesn’t he rescue me?

Why does he torment me?

Thoughts cascade through my mind like water tripping down a babbling brook. Just as noisy, just as chaotic. It fills me, consumes me, until all I can think about is being stuck like this forever.

Just as I despair, his hot breath washes against my ear, sending tingles down my spine.

“Don’t worry, my little princess,” he rasps.

The voice is familiar, but not quite like I expect it to be. Though I can hear some of Philip in the tone, there’s a harshness to it, a darker quality that makes me quiver with both need and fear.

The abomination. It must be. The witch spoke of him and the dragon becoming one monstrous being. Seems as if the dragon has found me after all. And what’s worse, is he must be wearing Philip’s skin and using his voice.

That’s the only way he could sound like the boy I had a childhood crush. The man I began to crave until I knew the truth. I want to scream, to beg him to release me, but not from the prison of my mind. I want to flee, to run far away from him and his dark ways.

Something sharp grazes my bottom lip, sending that same cramping pang of need down much lower. After a moment, wetness coats my skin. Blood. I’m almost sure of it. His tongue laps at the wound using just the tip.

Will that be enough to wake me? I wait, but nothing happens. When he pulls away, silent sobs wrack my body, and yet it still refuses to move.

“I’ll release you soon enough,” he teases. “But not until I’ve had my fill of you. Be a good girl for me and just wait patiently.” A soft chuckle flutters the fine hairs resting near my ear. “That’s all you can do, isn’t it? Just lie there and wait for me to bring you back to the living. Should I?”

Yes ! I scream, knowing he cannot hear me.

“Poor thing.” His voice drips with a mocking disdain that makes my heart pick up pace even more. “So still. So quiet. So lovely.”

Again lips hover over mine, barely touching me. He’s so close. So achingly close. If I could just lean up a fraction and join his lips to mine… So close, yet so far.

His laughter brushes across my face, making my nerves tingle. Why? Why play this game? Why torment me like this?

“Poor, poor princess,” he continues to murmur, running his hands down my body, inflaming my lusts with every touch until I cannot think straight.

“I feel your need, little princess.” He picks up my hand and rubs it against something soft, hot, and full of bumps and ridges. “It mirrors my own. Soon, I shall own you. Soon, I shall conquer you. Soon, you shall be my bride in words as well as in deed.”

My breathing stops for a moment. I’m not as na?ve as other girls. My mother made sure to tell me the basics of what occurs on a wedding night. However, knowing the mechanics and truly understanding what happens between a man and a woman are far different things.

He is to insert himself into me, making us one. But what part of him remains to be seen. I know it’s a piece that is made to fit me. Mother didn’t go into much more detail than that.

“Are you ready for me, my princess? Are you ready to become one with your abomination?”