9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mac

I wake up from a dream… to another dream…

Blinking up at the ceiling above me, I try to understand what I'm seeing. Beautiful white marble stretches above me and down the walls, yet shadows dance across the surface as though they are alive, shifting and flickering in time with some unseen force. They stretch and twist, moving like living creatures, casting strange shapes across it.

But it's not just the shadows—leafy vines and branches extend across the ceiling and along the walls, thick and vibrant, as if the very forest outside is reaching in, trying to claim the room as its own. The lines between indoors and out blur, and I can almost hear the whisper of the trees, like they're breathing in sync with me.

My gaze follows the twisting vines, tracing them back to an opening in the wall that leads out into the forest. And there, standing framed by moonlight and the wild darkness beyond, is him.

"You," I whisper, my voice barely audible, but I know he hears me. "Are you going to be in all my dreams tonight?"

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes glinting with something unreadable, as though my question has intrigued him. "Interesting," he murmurs, his voice smooth like velvet, sending a shiver through me.

Shifting under the blanket, I suddenly become hyper-aware of my body, realizing that I'm naked beneath the softest, most luxurious fabric I've ever felt. It drapes over my skin like a caress, but modesty has me clutching it to my chest as I sit up. Keeping it tightly pressed against me, I slide off the side of the bed, hesitantly pressing my feet to the marble and preparing for it to be cold, but it's warm, catching me by surprise as I get to my feet. Whatever dream this is, I'm not going to stay laying down and potentially vulnerable.

I've been in that position too many times.

I look around, confused, caught between the sensation of feeling like this is a hallucination and I am just standing in my room in the cabin, and the idea that the fantasy around me is somehow real. This may be a dream, but everything feels too tangible—the warm marble beneath my feet, the faint scent of earth and that strange feeling in the air that has my skin tingling.

Cianán is still watching me intently, and hasn't moved from the window. His presence seems to bend the space around him, as though he commands the entire dreamscape. There's something undeniably compelling about him, but beneath the surface, a sense of unease stirs, as though I'm standing on the edge of something far greater than I can grasp.

I take a cautious step toward him, pulling the blanket tighter around me, my mind swirling with questions. "Why are you in all my dreams?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, though the weight of my question hangs heavy between us.

His gaze doesn't waver as he studies me, a soft, unreadable expression on his face. "Why wouldn't I be?" he replies, his voice a low murmur, as if the very idea that I'd question it is amusing to him. Once again the lilt in his voice catches my attention, so similar to the villagers but yet somehow different.

I frown, frustration bubbling beneath my confusion. "I don't understand. I don't even know you."

For a long moment, he's silent, his eyes dark and contemplative. "What was the last dream about?"

The question catches me off guard. My mind flickers back to it, heat creeping up my face at the memory. Even now, thinking back on the way his skin felt against mine, the softness of his hair beneath my fingers, there is something lacking, as though even those memories have dulled when compared to this moment.

He steps forward then, just slightly, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as though he already knows what the previous dream was about. "Do you often find yourself in dreams that feel this real?"

I open my mouth to respond but stop, considering his question. The air around him seems to shimmer with the same energy that clings to the walls, bending the space between us. There are tendrils of those vines hanging from the ceiling and something makes me reach out to run one of my fingers against the closest one. I gasp as it moves as though alive, curling around my finger and then moving down until it moves against my palm, stroking it softly. The moment I tug against it, the vine releases me again and my wide eyes look to Cianán, to find heat in his gaze as he watches me. "No," I say slowly. "Not like this. This feels… different."

Cianán doesn't press the topic any further. Instead, he begins to stalk forward, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. A sudden awareness creeps over me, a primal instinct flaring to life as if I'm being hunted.

Cianán circles me, and without thinking, I turn with him, keeping my front facing him and hiding my naked back. My heart races, causing me to grip the fabric tighter to my body, the sensation of vulnerability growing stronger with each of his graceful, measured steps.

The blanket twists around my ankles as I move, and I nearly trip, but before I can fall, Cianán comes to a stop directly in front of me. Up close, I can see his eyes more clearly now. The green seems brighter here than when I met him in the forest, glowing faintly, like they possess a light of their own. It's mesmerizing, and I can't look away.

His skin, too, shimmers faintly, as if he swallowed the light of the sun and replaced it with the cool, ethereal glow of the moon outside. Every inch of him radiates power and mystery. He's wearing black leather pants and a long-sleeve green shirt that clings to his form. Little hints of tattoos peek out from under the neckline and along his wrists. The ink, dark and intricate, seems to move as he does, twisting like vines creeping out from beneath his clothing, as if the magic of the forest itself has marked him.

I'm not sure what part of my subconscious decided to give him tattoos, but they suit him. They look… good. More than good.

The antler pendant still hangs at his neck, but now, it too glows with a strange, dark light, as though it holds some secret I'm not yet privy to. Everything about Cianán is more vivid in this dream—more real than anything I've ever experienced.

He raises a hand, his fingers hovering near my cheek but not quite touching. His closeness sends a shiver through me, and my breath catches in my throat as I meet his gaze. There's a softness in his eyes, something almost tender, as he murmurs, "May I touch you anywhere?"

The question is unexpected, disarming. I can feel the heat of his hand, so close yet not quite making contact. My heart pounds, and for a moment, I can't find the words. This dream, this entire encounter, feels too real, too intimate.

No man has ever asked before, no man has ever stopped from acting as if my flesh was theirs for the taking. But the way Cianán is holding back, waiting for my word, it means more than he will ever know.

I nod, slowly, still clutching the blanket tightly against me as I wait for his skin to meet mine.

Cianán watches me closely, his eyes narrowing just slightly at my silent response. He doesn't move. Instead, he speaks again, his voice lower, more commanding but still soft. "Use your words, pretty songbird. Words have power, no matter where you are."

His statement confuses me, but there's an undeniable truth in his tone. My lips part as I breathe out, barely a whisper, "Yes, you can touch me anywhere."

His fingers finally brush against my cheek, the sensation sending a jolt of warmth through my entire body. It's gentle, a barely-there caress, but it feels like flames licking beneath my skin. His touch is slow and deliberate, like he's savoring the contact, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.

My eyes flutter shut as his hand trails down to my jawline, the pads of his fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. It's a caress that both soothes and ignites something deeper within me, something raw and powerful. The blanket slips a little from my grip as I lose focus, but I quickly clutch it again, grounding myself in its softness.

He steps closer, his breath ghosting over my lips. "Pretty little songbird, with your soft delicate skin," he murmurs, his voice sending another shiver through me.

"Songbird?" I ask, my voice barely audible, almost afraid of the answer.

Cianán's hand moves to cradle my face, his thumb stroking my cheek as he tilts my head up, forcing me to meet his glowing eyes. "Your song called to me, and I wonder what other sounds I can hear you make. May I continue to touch you?"

"Yes," I breathe as his fingers cause goosebumps to rise all over my body, my nipples pebbling at just his brief graze of my skin.

"Anywhere?" He tilts his head, as if watching for my hesitancy again. But it's gone. Somehow, I know he is safe. I'm safe.

"Anywhere," I agree. I want to question what he means, but before I can ask anything else, his lips are on mine.

The kiss is tender at first, almost hesitant, but quickly deepens, becoming something fiercer, something that pulls me under like the tide. I find myself responding instinctively, as if I've known him far longer than just here and the moment in the forest. The world around us seems to shift, the air thickening with that strange energy.

When we break apart, my heart is racing, and I'm left breathless, the room spinning slightly. Cianán doesn't move away. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine in the space between us.

"Will you sound just as pretty when you cry?" he whispers, his voice low and seductive. "When you scream?"

The question catches me off guard, and I jerk backward, tripping over the tangled blanket around my feet. I stumble and fall, landing on the warm marble floor, my back against the end of the bed, naked and exposed. The blanket is now a messy heap around my ankles.

Cianán's eyes darken as he steps toward me, his movements fluid and purposeful. The intensity of his gaze makes my pulse quicken, and I feel a mixture of fear and exhilaration. His presence is overpowering, filling the space with an almost palpable force.

As he closes the distance, I scramble to gather the blanket up to cover me. I struggle to maintain some semblance of modesty, but my sense of vulnerability is overwhelming. The room, with its shifting shadows and creeping vines, seems to pulse with the rhythm of my racing heart.

Cianán kneels in front of me, his eyes locked on mine with a mix of predatory focus and intrigue. I have the blanket drawn up the center of my body, and his position makes me suddenly conscious of the leg left uncovered in my panic. He reaches out, his fingers grazing my leg and I feel the tingling heat where they trail.

The sensation of his fingers against my exposed skin sends a shiver up my spine. It's a touch that is both electrifying and unsettling, heightening my awareness of every nerve ending in my body. I try to pull the blanket tighter against me, but it feels like a flimsy barrier between us.

He moves closer, his breath warm against my skin as he leans in, his face inches from mine. The room's ethereal glow seems to accentuate every subtle shift in his expression, every nuance of his touch.

"Why do you look so afraid, little songbird?" he murmurs, his voice soft but laced with a dark edge. His fingers continue their exploration, trailing up my leg with a deliberate slowness that makes it difficult to focus on anything else. "You invited me to touch you. You wanted this, didn't you?"

I can't help but tremble at his words, a mixture of fear and desire swirling inside me. His touch is gentle yet firm, and despite the fear, there's a part of me that yearns for more, that is drawn to the allure of his presence. I try to steady my breathing.

"Tell me," he presses, his fingers grazing the edge of the blanket as he starts to bunch it up, teasingly. "Do you want me to stop?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. My mind races, trying to reconcile the fear with the undeniable pull I feel toward him. Nothing about this man reminds me of Nathan, the reminder of him asking for permission to touch me has me relaxing slightly. And this is nothing but a dream, afterall.

"No," I whisper, barely able to find my voice. "I don't want you to stop."

A slow, almost wicked smile spreads across Cianán's face, his eyes flashing with satisfaction. He leans over me, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, "Then show me what else your song can do."

As he shifts the blanket higher, his fingernails scraping against my sensitive skin, I notice movement and my eyes widen in shock as I see vines creeping across the floor towards us. Before I can react, the vines wrap around my ankles and start pulling forcefully, stretching my legs out on either side of Cianán.

More vines suddenly wrap around my wrists, spreading them across the end of the bed, away from the protective blanket I was clutching onto moments before. At the same time, Cianán fingers find my pussy, teasing as my arousal drips onto them, drawing a surprised cry from my lips.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let me hear you sing."

The vines tighten around my wrists and ankles, holding me spread-eagle at the foot of the bed. I gasp, my body arching involuntarily as Cianán's fingers slowly push inside me, stretching me.

His touch is burning, igniting sensations I've never felt before. Every stroke, every caress seems to awaken something primal within me. I bite my lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but Cianán's eyes flash with disapproval.

"No, little songbird," he chides softly, his free hand cupping my face. "I want to hear every note of your melody." His thumb brushes across my lower lip, coaxing my mouth open. "Don't hold back."

As if to emphasize his point, he curls his fingers inside me, finding a spot that makes me cry out in pleasure. The sound echoes off the marble walls and Cianán's smile grows wider, more savage. "Such a pretty sound," he purrs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Will you let me play with you while you're sleeping every night?"

I whimper as my pussy tightens around his fingers. "Y-Yes," I stutter out when he pauses at my lack of response. This is all a dream, what harm could it do?

He leans down, his lips brushing against my neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone. His tongue darts out, tasting my skin, and I shudder at the sensation. All the while, his fingers go back to their relentless movement, building a pressure inside me that threatens to overflow.

I gasp and writhe against the vines holding me in place, my body aflame with a pleasure I've never experienced before.

His lips move lower, trailing kisses down my chest until they reach my breast. When his mouth closes around my nipple, I cry out, arching into him.

Cianán's thumb finds my clit, circling it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, and I feel myself spiraling higher and higher.

The coiling tension in my core grows more intense with each passing second. I'm panting now, small whimpers and moans escaping me with every breath while he praises each one.

Cianán lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, filled with hunger and something darker. His free hand circles my throat, his fingers pressing into the skin as though he wants to feel every sound that leaves it.

"Sing for me," Cianán commands, his voice low and hypnotic.

His words, combined with the relentless pleasure he's inflicting, push me over the edge. The tension inside me snaps, and I cry out, my body arching as waves of ecstasy wash over me. The vines tighten painfully, holding me in place as I writhe and tremble. Yet, the pain only makes it more intense.

Cianán watches me intently, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light as he drinks in every sound, every movement. His fingers continue their movement, drawing out my climax until I'm gasping and shaking. Darkness starts to creep into the edge of my vision, and my body feels weighed down like a heavy blanket is pressing down on me.

As the last tremors subside, he slowly withdraws his hand, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips. His tongue darts out, tasting me, and a low growl of satisfaction rumbles in his chest.

And then, everything goes black.