6. How many times must I fall?

Chapter 6

How many times must I fall?

ZENYA

"Fall For Me" by Sleep Token

"The Offering" by Sleep Token

E xquisite torture can be the only word for what he's put me through.

"I'll do whatever you want!" I scream in desperation, defeat, surrender. What will happen if I can't do this? They say you can die in your dreams. Is that an urban myth or is it real? Am I on the precipice of death?

"I don't want you broken , Zenya." He breathes against me with the femur bone rearranging my insides. "I want you to break ! Break now!"

My soul is ready to burst, to soar with the force of an orgasm that could only be described as cataclysmic.

Break! I scream in my mind, imagining a crack splintering right through the bone mask.

It obeys. Oh, god—it cracks! Is that all it takes? Judging by the wide-eyed approval coming from those black diamonds in his sockets, I'll take it as a good sign. For god's sake, he could have just clued me in to the implication of the power of the possessive verb. My possession.

Hey, Zenya, active vs passive! Verb vs noun!

Goddamn dandybone. Contempt churns in me.

With what power I can't fathom and by whatever strength and energy I possess here, I thrust the needles out, screaming and screeching until they clatter to the floor.

He watches me the whole time. Gazing in wonder. Black tears flow from his eyes. His emotion is so raw, I practically feed on it.

I've never felt so alive. I'm breaking free!

For the first time in my life, I don't simply survive. I don't escape. I don't bury the torment, the pain. Through blood and fire, I break free, clawing and ripping flesh from those goddamn bones and spilling my own blood like liquid rubies.

In this nightmarish realm he controls, the pain is like an echo, something crawling on the edge of my consciousness. If this was the real world, I'd have been dead long ago.

He tilts his head, staring through the cracked mask as I howl in my mind when I shatter that mask. This God of Nightmares doesn't flinch—not even when the smithereens of bone dust stab into his eye sockets. Nyxion keeps his gleaming eyes on me the whole time and opens his jawbone to proclaim, "Ahh, there she is! What a beautiful, little monster you are."

Fucking asshole. Highness of Horrors. I'd stake my life on him having a PhD in excessive angst.

Degrees of shame gnaw on me, along with my long-lost triumph.

The spinal cord is next. Sucking in deep breaths, I imagine the backbone splitting down its center before crushing the vertebrae, one bone at a time. It feels like there are a thousand needle holes in me.

He's shook me down to my soul. His dark, masculine musk overwhelms me. My insides throb, starving with need.

Crying out, I push that dastardly serpent from my asshole and thrust the femur from my center.

The blood slows. The holes gutting my flesh close, sealed by whatever power he possesses.

Feeling those skin strips biting into my skin, I imagine them breaking. Within an eye blink, they unravel. And I fall.

How many times must I fall?

Nyxion catches me.

I gasp from the memory of when he caught me on the Penrose steps. His hand was both strong, yet tender. This time, it's his whole body bearing me with this tender strength, but I sense the gravity of his lust. My skin is aflame with my own. Liquid fever heats my pussy—an intensity beyond anything I've ever felt.

Everything trembles in his arms. Beneath that robe, he wears a black, polished suit with eldritch markings. I breathe him in, the unbelievable scent of soulful anguish, seductive devastation, and dark wisteria.

Like a gift and a curse, he has tethered me, bringing me to this place where our souls brush one another.

Clinging to him, too alive with the pain and surrender to fall asleep—like a sun ready to shine its face after the longest night—I stare up at him and silently beg him to lift the darkness, "Nyxion."

The next thing I know, he's pinned me to the floor with a cloud of bone dust floating into the air. Wrenching my hands above my head and planting them against the fallen bones, he kisses me with the mouth of a corpse—as if he's coming together, restoring himself while feeding on me, eating my mouth.

I arch my neck, my will sharper than ever despite my surrender. Sometimes to surrender takes the greatest willpower. He tastes like violent dreams and alluring nightmares. His tongue beckons mine, stabbing deeper, exploring and decorating the inside of my mouth.

Tingles of heat skitter along every inch of my body like intricate webs. All my tattoos seem to swirl to life, burning stars and bleeding hearts beneath my flesh.

Nyxion's possession, his power, and dominance—everything is the highest of highs I've ever chased. No, he's chasing me, and I'm falling into him, fading into him. The heat of his slabbed body, this fortress of a chest, conquers me. The steel bulge beyond his pants grinds against me, introducing me to a new level of longing.

When he breaks from the kiss, I choke, my lips parting in a silent scream at the vicious and beautiful effigy staring back at me. It's overwhelming and painful to look at him.

In another moment, his clothes are gone.

His rich brown skin glows with an inner light, smooth and flawless, like polished mahogany under a soft moonlit glow. His deeply hooded eyes, smoldering and intense, gleam like black diamonds, their depth and mystery pulling me in, vowing untold stories and secrets.

His physique is herculean, each bulging muscle carven from some godly force—both destructive and healing. His dark hair falls in lustrous, silky curls to his shoulders—with a few rebellious locks cascading over his cheeks and brow, framing his face in a way that can only be described as meticulously wild. A shadow of stubble adds a rugged edge to his chiseled jaw and full, sensual lips, which curve into a knowing, almost mischievous smile.

It's as if a seraphim sculpted his features, carved from some celestial marble with precision and care. His presence is commanding yet elegant, a perfect balance of raw power and refined beauty.

Most awe-striking are the beautiful, black membranous wings spread wide, their texture and form both delicate and formidable, like the wings of a dark angel.

The tattoos adorning him seem to shift and change at his whim. The ink flows and transforms until the living art mirrors my tattoos.

In a mesmerizing display, he takes my ink into himself until we share the designs. They weave seamlessly as if my blood has merged with his essence, bound in flesh and spirit.

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

With a wry smile and lust darkening his eyes, he descends, feathering kisses along my throat and tasting the remnants of my blood. Electric sparks shoot down my spine wherever he kisses, tongues, or touches me. My pelvis rocks, demanding and uncontrollable.

He licks at my nipples, sucking them and the piercings one at a time into his mouth. I twist in his grip and writhe when he lowers his tongue into my navel.

When his thumb rubs the place with all my hypersensitive nerves, I buck, then scream from his teeth sinking into my pelvis. He stabs two fingers inside me at the same time.

"Enough!" I suck in deep breaths and stare down at him, deadpanning with those black-diamonded eyes. "Please…" I whisper through fresh tears.

"So sweet." He touches the tips of his fingers to my tears. "Such lovely tears. Did you know tears have anatomy? A language of their own. Small puddles sharing warmth represent overwhelming grief and pain. Scattered tear droplets represent intermittent crying, emotional instability. I love your tearful narrative, Zenya. How they stream down your face to symbolize your emotional release. A preoccupation of tears and their story is called dacryphilia. What a story you have to share with me!"

Who knew the God of Nightmares could be so…poetic?

He retrieves his fingers and sucks upon them before diving between my legs and pulling apart my lips, spreading me wide. "So vulnerable. So human." The God of Nightmares studying me only deepens the throbbing ache inside me until I'm drowning in my own fluids.

I whimper at the sight of those serpents slithering toward me. Paralyzed by my hunger, this excruciating pleasure, I cage a scream as those serpents each circle a breast, plumping them before their forked tongues lick spirals around my nipples, flicking my piercings. My hips rise.

Then, he ravishes me. Like his serpents but even more extreme, Nyxion licks me from ass to cleft, working at my distended clit with this sweet torment.

I reach for him, digging my fingers into his satiny curls, bringing him closer—until he growls and knocks my hands away.

In a moment, he's over me again, wrists wrenched above my head. His weight nearly crushes me. His wings curve around me, imprisoning me in their dark sanctum until there is nothing but him and me in the darkness—as if we are sharing the same nightmare.

I haven't dared to look down at his length, but I feel it like a hot steel rod. It pulses against my inner thigh. He kisses me again, storming me, raiding me as his hips rock, grinding his massive erection against my soaked pussy, rubbing me with delirious friction. The serpents don't stop licking.

Somehow, despite my liquefied bones, my legs spread even wider.

"Like forbidden fruit ready to burst for me," he purrs against my mouth and stabs three fingers into me.

Shuddering, I clench my eyes and squeeze around him.

"Look at me," he commands firmly, and I open my eyes to those black diamond orbs. He retrieves his fingers. "Look at me while I take you, Zenya—and you take my godhood."

The heat of him presses in, iron-hard, hot, and heavy like a fiery battering ram. He rubs his crown in my wetness before sliding the tip inside me.

"That's my beautiful, little monster," he groans and takes my bottom lip into his mouth. "Sucking me in, so fucking tight with your mortal sex, all this wet heat dripping over me. Now, sing for me."

With one great thrust, he forges his way into my depths, stretching my opening to its limits and filling every inch of my inner flesh.

My heart howls his name. My mind screams its echo.

No going back now.

There was no going back when I followed him into the doors of his domain.

He's my enchanting nightmare wrapped in a vicious daydream invading every part of me. He's everywhere. In my blood. And my soul.

"Yes, you've bled for me, fractured your teeth for me," Nyxion purrs against my lips. "You broke for me, shattered for me, fell for me. Now, fall into me, little dreamer." He comes out to the halfway mark, and I sob from the loss but melt, knowing he's about to fuck me into oblivion. "Give me your soaked, slutty cunt. Give me the freedom of your bliss. Give me all your sweet, depthless dreams!"

He rams me hard, impaling me on his massive godhood and crushing his mouth to mine.

A quake with the force of an atomic bomb detonates inside me. I explode into the most catastrophic climax I've ever had. Convulsing all around him, I bite down so hard, I chip another tooth.

He fucks me through it, pounding and hammering into me so hard, my pelvis breaks, the bones fracturing. The pain endorphins rocket me into another dimension—one that has me shattering into blazing constellations until they all crash together, and I'm burning like a new sun.

I broke first. I shattered. I fell for him.

Now, it's his turn.

Drunk on him, I arch my neck and seek his taste. His slabbed chest, like muscled marble, comes down, slicking across my sweat-soaked skin. My body dances, finding his rhythm as he power-fucks me into back-to-back waves of euphoria.

On some level, I know I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't want something so deadly as the God of Nightmares fucking me. And how he's destroyed every possible thread of my consent.

The knowledge rears up until I'm bucking. Against every urge of my starved pussy, I slam my eyes shut, arch my back, and struggle beneath him.

"Don't you dare," he snarls and grips my jaw, summoning me. I open my eyes and seethe. His wings vibrate, timed to my thrashing pulse. My heartbeat pounds beneath him. "You will take all of me, my little killer. And you will love—every—fucking—moment," he drives the words home, thrusting through each one. On the third beat, he plants a hand on my sternum.

Something cracks. Pain splinters through me. My breath withers.

Tilting his head again, the God of Nightmares leers down at me as I suck ragged gasps. "Yes, little monster. I've broken your rib cage. The bone is piercing your lungs. Fight me all you want, but if you wish to breathe again, you will give me your mouth."

It doesn't hurt as it should. Just enough endorphin-inducing pain.

I moan but open my lips at the same time that he sweeps down. Mouth sealed to mine, Nyxion slams into me with a vengeance. Another orgasm rips through me. Ecstasy spills over, drowning me, sucking me into its undertow. A black sea of pleasure he alone commands. He gives me breath in his dark vortex of rapture while paroxysms shake me to my core. His nightmare of unholy euphoria wrecks and ruins me for all others.

He unravels me. And stitches me back together.

He breaks me, then puts me back together, remaking me.

How could I ever return to mortal life after experiencing this? He says I belong to him. Will I die here? Or will he tire of me and return me to the waking world, forever ruined? Unless…I don't remember.

That seems even worse than having soul-shattering emotions for the rest of my mortal life.

I shove down the thoughts, always diverting myself from thoughts I don't like.

Nyxion flares his wings that resonate through the place where we are joined. One more great thrust, and he rams me. Lightning strikes. I scream through the shock waves of my climax while he surges thick ropes of his cum into me.

Fresh oxygen engulfs my lungs. Some part of me is aware of how my bones are fusing, repaired by his will. One lick of his tongue along the edges of all my teeth confirms the enamel is all intact.

"This pain will stay," he says deeply after coming out and palming my inflamed entrance. Everything inside is like fire and ice and the aftermath of orgasm—a hot humming and tingling.

"Zenya…" he whispers, curling frosted breath along my ear and chilling me to the bone. "Now, you are my slave."