12. “I am nothing but a corpse who loves you…”

Chapter 12

"I am nothing but a corpse who loves you…"

ZENYA

"All Around me" by Flyleaf

"Haunted" by Evanescence

"Beauty From Pain" by Superchick

A t first, the pain is extreme, but then it fades to a phantom-like sensation.

In some morbid part of my psyche, I admire him. After all, he's just following the Golden Rule, considering I broke his bones first.

Nyxion knows how much I enjoyed it. The violence. I get one little taste—then I'm opening the scars inside me, feeling the handle of a blade in my strong grip just like he showed me, and twisting it into flesh. Blood pooled into my sandbox. I grew wildflowers in the same soil where the corpses were buried.

Now, they are rising all around me.

I'm spitting and thrashing, but the vines are like damn chains that bite my flesh with their thorns. One binds around my mouth, slicing through my lips, but my cries still echo from my throat.

Heat roars in my blood and fills my pussy. I feel myself gushing already.

Spine locking up, I freeze, the blood congealing in my veins. Because Nyxion is brushing something hard and unyielding but still soft and smooth. Cool to the touch. Oh, hell, I know what it is.

"Did you know the femur is the strongest bone in the body?" he purrs, tracing the edge of the bone along my spine until he arrives at my ass. "And the longest?"

"Mmm," I moan through the vines, flick my hair from my eyes, and my mind howls from the corpses staggering and crawling toward me.

Part of me tries to rationalize. I shouldn't get off on this, especially not the violence done to me instead of by me. Maybe it's some twisted sort of punishment, a penance. But that's not right.

I've never forgiven myself. Because there's nothing to forgive.

Not when the blade was forced into my hand. Not when the shovel came next. Not when I planted wildflowers in the dirt and played with the smaller bones in my sandbox—because, in my child's mind, I didn't want them to be lonely.

The strike comes—a hard thud and searing pain lashing through my right cheek. I buck, wailing through the thorny gag.

The corpses are so close, I feel their hot breaths.

Nyxion swings the femur again, the blow harder. A blazing vibration resonates through the flesh, deepening through flesh to muscle.

Tears form. My throat constricts. And I bite down hard, cutting my lips more with the thorns. It's a sensual pain. Possessive to its core, but I can't help the heat pulsing between my thighs.

The dark seduction and disturbing elements, from the corpses to the femur he's using, all conspire. Molten lust fills my veins, igniting my nerve endings. The vines tighten and stretch, spreading me more and forcing my ass up in the air.

Brutal air attacks my privates. All the twisting and writhing succeeds in the thorns cutting my flesh more.

By what power I don't know, the power only the God of Nightmares can wield, he gives me just enough pain and pleasure to charge my endorphins while the exquisite torture he deals won't kill me.

My mind makes everything real. The blood drips down my arms, wet and viscous. It's overwhelming. Wondrously so.

I don't know if I can take more.

Nyxion, I plead as he strikes my thighs. My bruised and welted bottom screams with pain, but the throb between my legs only grows. His strikes are deep and penetrating as if I can feel them down to my bones. Will he beat me right into the ground until I become one with the corpses?

Out of the corner of my eye, I find those black diamond orbs. They're brighter, and I'd swear they're smoldering. He's unleashing something when he does this. Something darker than the devil I've danced with all my life. It's torture—otherworldly and enthralling. His wings are so hard, their muscle and sinew bulging, membrane vibrating with need.

At the snapping sound so close and the scent of rot curling around me, I flick my head back up—and scream! One corpse has arrived. It twists its neck, the bones protruding while it opens its mouth in a hoarse but hungering wail. It does not attack. Just stares. And twists.

My mouth is dryer than bone dust. But a dizziness invades my vision. And despite the nausea swirling in my stomach, when Nyxion nudges the femur along my clit, a sense of euphoria rushes through me. Like a morphine high, Nyxion kills the pain with one devilish rub of the most hypersensitive part of me.

Once he uses his bony fingers and pinches my triangle piercing, I squeal from the surge of pain. He laughs and toys with the sunflower and skull a moment later, intensifying the pleasure until I'm a hot mess of wanton flesh.

Pulling away before my orgasm surfaces, Nyxion throws off his robe. I pant heavily, tattered breaths escaping as I watch him circle me. God, he's a force to be reckoned with when he wears his robe. Like the Grim Reaper. A four-piece black suit with a chain vest and a sharp tie. Eldritch symbols mark his vest and long coat. His raging hard boner bulges right through his pants.

Broody villains know just how to dress to make crazy girls like me fall for them.

"Yes, I am a villain, little dreamer," he says while kneeling before me, gripping my hair, and thrusting my head back to trail his skull along my cheek. I swallow hard as he traces his thumb along my lips. Collecting my blood. "And I will love you like one."

Without another word, he prods the femur bone between my nether lips until it begins to stretch my opening. He lifts his thumb bone to his mouth and tastes my blood.

His cock throbs, and his arousal fuels mine.

Oh, god! I'm so wet, it goes in with such ease.

"You love the fear," Nyxion says, his voice deep and gravelly before he chuckles darkly and lowers the femur to rub it along my wet folds. "Such deep, depraved desires run through you. You know how I alone can bring them all to life. You cannot fathom what I will do to you, little killer." He slides the bone in deeper, and I moan from the inexplicable pressure. Nyxion is bigger, but the bone is coarse. He is soft but also steel. The bone feels different. And I want—I want hi— I can't do this!

It's too much, I cry out inside whatever twisted mental bond we have. I'm going to fall. I'm going to crash!

"Yes, you will fall and crash. So spectacularly for me."

More corpses gather. Nyxion's wings curve around my body, granting a slit for the corpses to view me. I suck in deep breaths, my lungs working overtime while he fucks my center with the femur. I'm femur-fucked. And it's such erotic agony, I'm-I'm going to?—

Fisting my hair once again, Nyxion lowers his teeth to my ear and growls, "Come for me, Zenya."

With one bone-deep stab, I fall over his edge of insanity, muscles squeezing and convulsing around the femur. If orgasm means "little death", I must be perishing in thousands of little deaths, crashing to earth with molten bliss washing warm waves through me.

Somewhere between my wailing cries, Nyxion removes the femur, strips the vines from my body, and turns me over so I'm flat on my back. With my flesh still in the throes of my climax, Nyxion takes his erection out. It's the first time I've really seen it. Every other time, he's thrust inside me without showing me.

It's dark and depraved, a bone much like a femur but thicker. Something is so mesmerizing about how he's fisting it with his skeletal hand. Veins and hairline fractures give texture.

"Ohmyfuckinggo—"

He slams his bone mouth on my lips to silence me, rams that bone cock all the way to the back of my cunt, and buries himself deep inside me. I scream against his teeth. Except, like last time, like every time, his lips begin to form. Flesh and muscle grow over his beautifully-sculpted face.

He pauses against my lips, his full ones barely a thread from mine. He's so beautiful.

The three Oneiroi are masterpieces of the universe. Full of black hole energy and the beauty of the cosmos. The luminous warm brown skin of the ancient Greek Gods—like radiant amber. Thick dark waves fall down the sides of his face to brush my cheeks. And those fathomless black diamond eyes.

Some might wonder how the God of Nightmares can be so beautiful. But I know better. His beauty is a mask—one that chills and haunts my very soul.

"Are you going to start fucking me?" I ask, my voice cracking from my emotion.

He crooks a grin, and I swear sunlight glints in his eye. "Are you going to stop eye-fucking me?"

I deadpan. "Never."

"There's my monstrous girl."

I'm twenty-nine years old. Hardly qualify as a girl, but when he pulls out and impales me on his cock, the fractures grinding my soft inner flesh with unbelievable friction, I don't care. He can call me strange, sweet, little killer, girl, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

"I will…" he growls and nips my earlobe, teeth sinking in until it bleeds and I whimper.

Unfurling his wings. Nyxion gives me the full scope of the dozens of corpses surrounding us. I choke on a gasp. My heart ricochets, pulse thrashing in my veins.

Nyxion fucks me. The God of Nightmares drives his hips to ram my pelvis again and again. The thorny vines slither around my limbs, biting my flesh again until my knees are pushed to either side of my torso and my wrists wrenched above my head. A corpse brushes his fractured finger along my palm, tingling my skin.

Deep, vicious thrusts first. The moment I flick my eyes to those corpses, he grips my throat and snarls, "Eyes on me, sweet dreamer. I'm making your nightmares come true tonight. You will give me your fears. I will take your fears and write them upon your skin until you show me your teeth and the passion in your brokenness."

Another deep thrust. Another crushing of his mouth to mine.

And then, a scream splinters from my throat. Because the corpses are licking me. With guttural breaths and cold tongues, they lick me and send ice along my skin while Nyxion fucks fire into me until all my senses erupt with sinful pleasure. He holds me in his gaze as those tongues trace my tattoos and close their fleshy mouths around my breasts. Some are just gums. Others with chipped teeth that chafe my nipples and surge endorphins through me.

I'm so close to falling apart again, but Nyxion doesn't let me come. Only he gets to cut my strings and shove me off that peek.

Hot tears stream down my face. Oh god, those tongues work magic around my hardened nipples. Threads of flesh dangle from some and brush along my chest, my arms, and my belly until I'm arched and twisting, begging for my release.

But when Nyxion tilts his head with a predatory twisted smirk, I realize he's not done.

He pauses, throbbing, thickening inside me. "You loathe reality, little killer. Because reality loathes you. It can't accept you. It can't accept your paradox."

I pant beneath him, too tempted to look away. Not for shame. But for the sick desire rippling through me from all the zombies stroking their wet tongues along my skin.

"What paradox?" I whisper, gazing at him, at the beautiful horror staring me down and ripping right through my heart and into my soul.

"The person you truly are. A creature of dreams and nightmares. Too fragile but unbreakable. A masterpiece of beauty from ashes. Darkness lives inside your soul, my girl of scars and stitches. But light, oh, fucking glorious light lives inside your heart." He ejects to the tip and slams back inside me, triggering all my inner muscles to spasm. He quells them in an instant. Something so much more vulnerable when he's fully clothed to my nudity.

Pushing me deeper into the earth, the God of Nightmares twists his hips and grinds his bone-hard dick inside me. "How haunted you are by your demons, but oh, how you love them!"

"Stop," I plead in a whisper, not wanting to visit those demons even if they're all around me.

"Your fears and fantasies, Zenya." He spears those black diamonds into me. "So raw and alive since your birth and yet, so dead inside."

Like you…I almost say.

He growls, glaring at me. "No, Zenya." He slowly pushes through me, and I sob from the deep, slow force. "I have always been dead. I am nothing but a corpse who loves you and the emotions you give me. Because you are the only woman who could possibly take me. So give it to me. Give me all your fears. Together, we will turn them into beautiful nightmares!"

Something in me cracks. And surrenders. I'm imploding and spilling all my deep-rooted fears, bursting through my imagination, and crawling off my tattoos.

The corpses pull back because something is crawling on me. A scream catches in my throat, and I'm battling the vines—until Nyxion tilts my jaw upward and slowly begins to fuck me again.

"Trust me with your fears, Zenya. Let this nightmare love you with all his death."

Closing my eyes, taking deep breaths, I relax my muscles and fall into him and all his darkness and depravity. I accept the skittering of the small spiders on the underside of my left arm—my tattoos brought to life.

More tears come, but I can't deny the intensity of the tickling sensation. How it torments and tantalizes with a demented erotica I can't comprehend.

The corpse-like crows with broken wings rise next.

Then, the skulls and dead roses.

Then the bloody teeth and flaming swirls.

All my left tattoos come alive, spiral over my skin, enrapturing me. The spiders curl along my pebbled nipples.

Only the left. Because Nyxion does not command the dreams, the light. But I remember what he said.

Together, we will turn them into beautiful nightmares.

He fucks me harder. A violent force pounding into me. With every drive of his hips and every powerful beat of his wings, I arch, receiving him. Every nerve ending comes alive from the force of his godhood inside me.

Parts of his face fracture to expose the flesh and bone—the two sides of him fusing, coming together. The most horrific beauty I could imagine.

"Fuck, you feel magnificent. Weave for me, little killer."

With the dark, demonic side of my body swarming all over me, I weave the right into being. There is my flying horse galloping across the field, crushing corpses beneath her mighty hooves. I gush, squeezing around him more as he fucks me, picking up his rhythm.

"Yes! Fuck, yes, more!" Nyxion commands, grinding his pelvis against my clit, moving the piercing, electrifying my senses. "Feels so amazing. Tastes so fucking good. Show me more. Look at you. Such a gorgeous girl dripping all over me. Look at you,"—he coils a hand of corpse flesh and bone around my throat to growl,— "and scream for me!"

When I look down, I scream and scream and scream, thrashing against him. Somehow, I break the vines and grip him, holding on for dear life.

The tattoos below my breasts. Oh, god—the rib cage inked there. It's alive. My skin is gone, peeled back to display the prison of bones.

Nyxion rocks his hips. And I…grow red roses through the bones. Roses with thorns made of blood droplets.

"Gods, you're mine! Mine forever, Zenya." He palms my breast and thumbs my left nipple, rubbing the cold piercing and shooting an arrow of pleasure right for my clit.

"Nyxion!" I scream his name, gripping him harder, nails digging into his tunic until I rip it. All the little vertebrae etched on my spine come to life, vanishing my flesh and skin. My body curves more for him until my very skin grows into his. Becoming one flesh. Becoming him.

"So sweet, look how you're taking me, gripping me so tight, strangling me with your sweet, mortal heat. So fucking mine!" He dives in and kisses me, stabbing his tongue into my mouth as he takes me inside himself. He lowers his mouth and suckles my nipples before pinching them.

He captures my mouth again, folding my lips back. Despite the flesh peeled back on one side, Nyxion does not taste of rot. If the dark side of the moon had a taste, it would be him. Like dark divinity.

Butterflies and moths claim my breasts, feathering their antennae across my erect buds.

The sensation is indescribable. Like feeling the Chaos that formed the world. I'm entering the black hole of his soul. He's sucking me in. And all my light is going to fucking explode!

"Yes, my slave and my Queen." He purrs against my mouth. "Explode for me. Burn for me. Become for me. Now!"

One great stab of his hips. He cuts my strings. Lets me fall—right into him. I explode in waves of back-to-back climaxes, screaming through our bond. Convulsing over and over. Euphoria thunders through me, pounding my heartbeat against the rib cage. It ricochets, trying to escape the bars, but it can't.

In one still, silent moment, he touches my heart through the cage and holds me in his gaze even as I'm climaxing, shuddering in seismic tremors. Those powerful, omnipotent black diamonds send me spiraling into another profound orgasm that rises from my deepest recesses.

After the calm comes the storm. Wings fanning out to cast great and mighty shadows, the God of Nightmares throws his head back, roars, and unleashes himself—unleashes his nightmares into me. Slamming his mouth onto mine, he growls with such ferocity, it resonates in my fragile heart and echoes in my soul.

I drift into ecstasy, into oblivion. A million smithereens of divine, nightmarish energy.

"Look what you've done, my sweet and strange," he breathes against my mouth.

When I open my eyes, I gasp.

It's enchanting. Transcendent. There are no words for the forest of corpses I have grown. Skin, flesh, and bones fused into angelic white trees clad in luminescent, spun frost—silver-gilded.

I part my lips in awe. I did that?

Nyxion takes my mouth again in a bewildering, momentary kiss. "Your soul and heart came together. And touched mine. Now, they are mine forever. You are mine, Zenya Alice Myre."

We'll see about that.

Some little whisper strikes like lightning in my mind. No, we will not.

Fine, I huff but turn to the organic, tree-speckled field. But I'm keeping the horse.

He grins.