#naomiwrites

In the meantime, he laid more of his weight on top of hers, their hips still glued together, thighs sticky and sore. He breathed her in, only to let out a heavy breath. She truly felt like heaven in his arms, even in the dead of the night. 

“Yes, sweetie,” and she would be lying if she said his husky voice didn't do things to her. 

“Don't leave yet,” came out her soft demand. 

With a specific low chuckle of his, he raised himself on his forearms, each one by the sides of her head. Carmine eyes sparkled with unspoken adoration. 

“I'll get something to clean you up.” Leaning in, he stole a kiss from her dry lips. “I'll stay until you fall asleep.” 

An adorable pout formed on her lips. 

“That busy?” 

“I'm sorry, dear,” he shook his head lightly, pressing another apologetic kiss to her forehead. 

“No need for apologies.” Stroking his cheekbones with the tips of her fingers, she smiled up at him. “I understand.” 

Another kiss, this time a little longer, as the seconds stretched with comfortable silence. Sylus tucked her in and continued to whisper sweet nothings, a small conversation with a little tickling and some giggles. The bedroom radiated pure comfort as she settled properly in his sheets, in his scent. The last thing she had felt before falling into slumber was the touch of his lips on the crown of her head. 

A child with wings and horns. Chains curled around his little body, cold metal biting at his wrists. Little by little, his shadow recreated itself, it distorted, until she distinguished the figure of Sylus, the same as she knew him, yet so different — horns, wings, eyes sparkling with vengeance and hatred. 

He looked at her. The crimson in his left eye shone brighter, bloodied. 

Devour. Destroy. Take. 

Her head throbbed, the same way it did when she first met Sylus. It hurt to keep her eyes open, but she couldn't manage to close them either. 

A cavern, somewhere deep into a mountain, high above Tarus City. Treasures, old books, gems and money, with Sylus sitting proudly atop of them. Signature smirk on his lips, she recognized him, despite the strange environment. 

No. She'd been there before, she had seen it last summer, when… when they had searched for a sword during that playful contest. When she was still reluctant regarding him, when she could barely believe herself with each act of kindness coming from him. 

Sylus was in that place again, but this time the cave seemed like more of a home. His tail around her waist, his hot, heavy presence right behind her, caging her in. Something scorched inside of her, but it was akin to the thrill of fear rather than pleasure. 

“Sylus?”

The huntress found herself singing a song, a tune she somehow recognized. This time, Sylus acted more like a cat than her (despite the very dragon-like horns that adorned his head), laying with his head in her lap, demanding her not to stop singing. But it was soft, the way he asked, the way he was rather faking annoyance. And she continued to sing, this time caressing rough horns. Love nestled in her chest for the first time during that dream. 

Nothing good lasts forever, though. Blood poured everywhere, on her, on him, out of his wounds, and— and there was that damn claymore again, the one she had dreamt of countless of times in the first week upon meeting Sylus. 

“You must press on.” It was him. It was Sylus — she'd recognize that voice anywhere, even in her sleep. 

She awoke with a scream, sitting up on the bed as soon as her eyes opened. 

Her body burnt unpleasantly. Frantic eyes scanned the room, waiting to see blood, since it had felt real, too real, too precise. Looking at her palms, she felt the warm liquid in between her fingertips, she felt it drop down to her wrists. Warm, like a heart still beating in her hands. 

“Sylus,” she mumbled his name. 

Her hands trembled. Her entire body did, as she couldn't even keep herself on her feet when she tried to jump out of the bed. Weak knees betrayed her and the huntress plopped back down on the mattress, still in shock. 

Uselessly, she had tried to even out her breathing. By sheer will she managed to stand up and grab Sylus's night robe, pulling her arms through the sleeves and tying it at the waist. She clung onto anything that could comfort her, the reality of her dream clinging to her senses still. 

It wasn't a dream. The more she focused on the world around her, the better she understood that. The scent of smoke had been as real as the scent of wood in the mansion, as real as Sylus's perfume that had sunk in his robe. 

Her instincts screamed for her to go to Sylus, but an ugly voice in her head told her otherwise. Driven by fear and worry, she walked into the library. The books and their scent reminded her of a very specific corner of that cave, one with organized books, some written in ancient languages she couldn't understand. 

Him, humming with said ancient words sitting on the tip of his tongue. Him, reading her to sleep as her head fell on his shoulder, hard scales kissing her cheek. Warm — an arm curling around her that kept the cold of the night away. 

Despite the unnatural feeling in her chest, she continued to walk until she reached the couch by the large window. 

The huntress settled there, pulling the robe better over her. Knees pulled close to her chest, arms curled around them loosely, she looked at the dark world outside of the Onychinus base. 

The reality was hard to distinguish from the dream she’s just had. The wires of her past and present twisted into strange knots, until she couldn't tell which is which, or how to get out of that prison. 

Reaching to the window, she opened it wide, taking in a deep breath. There was no warmth to keep the cold away except for Sylus's silky robe. She remembered that she had woken up abruptly — the sole reason why her lover wasn't already searching in every nook and cranny for her might be some important meeting. It's better that way, she thought. 

The contest they had gone to together had unraveled a piece of the truth. A part of her life, a part of her present, but it didn't clear her mind regarding her strange nightmares when she first met Sylus. However, that changed after she learnt about her existence. The young lady started seeing Sylus more and more in her dreams; those nightmares. 

Too bad they weren't just nightmares. Couldn't be, no, they felt like second skin, they clung to her like vines of the past. 

She was dangerous. Dangerous, unpredictable, with a power greater than she could control. There were too many cursed shards that her heart had absorbed. Not only in this reality, it seemed like, but since a long time ago.

She's killed him. Sylus. She's killed her beloved. 

Tears gathered in her eyes and before she could stop it, they slid down her cheeks. Pressing her palms over her eyes, she shook with a sob that she tried to keep at bay. It ached, chest twisting painfully, running short on air. 

The blood dripped down her wrists. She felt it get in her eyes, she felt its sticky and dry remnants. Sickness crawled up her throat. Another sob slipped past her lips. 

Outside the library, Like and Kieran passed by. A quiet sound interrupted their discussion — a prank they've been planning to pull on their dear boss. Staring at each other, Luke made the first move and opened the door. 

“Who knows what could be creaking,” Luke hummed. 

“The shelves are a little old,” Kieran nodded. 

Their words had been too silent to reach her ears and her chaotic Evol didn't sense them either; or rather, her brain didn't register their presence. However, they did. Her Evol curled in the air, almost invisible if it wasn't for the golden hues in the dim lights. While she curled around herself, face hidden in her knees, her energy tried its best to find comfort elsewhere. 

The twins froze. They didn't see her tears, but they saw her small figure on the couch. Their kindest protector was breaking, vulnerable and, most importantly, alone. 

Kieran pulled at Luke's sleeve. 

“Let's get boss,” he whispered. 

“Do you think they fought?” Luke dragged his brother away from the door that he's left ope open ajar.

Kieran shrugged. “He was in a great mood when he entered the meeting. And he was thirty minutes late.” 

“He would've come earlier if something was wrong,” Luke nodded. 

Once the state of his beloved reached Sylus's ears, he stopped the meeting and closed his tabloid. Eyebrows pulled together and tense stance — he wore the look of someone prepared to burn something or someone to the ground. 

“What are you saying?” but he was already standing from his chair. 

“I don't know,” Kieran whispered, worry slipping through. “Her Evol was chaotic too.”

Luke nodded by his side, squeezing his hands at the small of his back. Sylus looked over them quietly and clicked his tongue — he could feel it was bad from their behavior alone. And his beloved wasn't made of glass, despite how many times he treated her as such. No, she was a warrior, a determined one even, unyielding. 

Sylus walked quickly to the library, opening the door wide. Just as they've said, she was curled in a ball on the couch. He felt his right eye throb lightly. 

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm scared. 

His instincts kicked in. Sylus was at her side in no time, letting himself on one knee in front of the couch. 

“Sweetie,” he whispered. 

Against his deepest desire to touch and comfort her, he kept his hands to himself. She's been through a lot lately — he feared he might startle her. 

The huntress raised her head with a surprised gasp. She curled her arms better around her legs and gulped, watching him carefully. Fear danced in the hues of her watery eyes and each tear broke Sylus further. 

“What's wrong?” he hummed lowly, reaching a hand out to her. 

She didn't take it. No, she tried to make herself smaller. Sylus saw her fear and ugly memories came flooding back, his hand suspended in the air. 

No. No, it can't be. She— she's not scared of him, not anymore. She loves him. Right? Right? 

The man gulped. Stuck in time, almost, as he curled his fingers into a fist and let it fall on his knee. Her behavior was strange, it was even worse than when they first met and he felt a deep ache in his chest. Sylus released a heavy, panicked breath. 

Please don't do that to me. 

“I love you too much to hurt you again,” she said. 

It took several seconds until Sylus actually heard what she had said, until he understood. With a furrow, his lips parted. 

“What do you mean?” He's never been more confused his entire life. “If you're talking about that shot in the heart, I thought we were over—”

“Fuck,” she whimpered. 

Realization struck her like a light — eyes widened and breath cut short, another sob crawled up her throat. 

“That's why you— Sylus.” The way she said his name was like a scolding, like she couldn't believe herself. 

I'd rather die than hurt you again. His eye twitched twice, until he closed both his eyes. It was the only time when it hurts to listen to her deepest desires, and truth be told, he wasn't even surprised her desire lacked selfishness. 

“I'll hurt you,” she whimpered helplessly. “Again.” 

Hatred curled in waves around her. 

“My beloved,” his voice dripped like honey, sweet and tender. “Allow me.” 

This time, he managed to wrap his fingers around her knee and squeeze. He wished nothing more than to bring her back to the present. 

Little by little, he convinced her to lower her knees and make enough space for him on the couch so he could sit next to her. One leg behind him and the other in his lap, he settled between her thighs and leaned over her. He rested his weight on the forearm draped over the armrest she was leaning against. 

“You're not hurting anyone, alright?” he whispered. “I promise you that.” 

“I did,” her voice cracked with a gasp. “I killed you. And you knew, this entire time you knew, and—”

The huntress bit her lower lip, squeezing her eyes closed at the mere thought of it.

“And I chose to love you, regardless,” Sylus continued in her stead. “It was my choice. You can blame me for it, rather than yourself.”

She wouldn't — he knew that. So he watched as tears gathered on her waterline, watched as they trailed down her cheeks. Pressing closer to her, he cradled her head against his neck. The steady sound of his heart had managed to break her further. The reality of his life broke her, because merely an hour ago she had seen him vanish into a field of datura. It hurt. 

Every single flower he's brought her, she regretted not putting each one of them in between the pages of her books. Every single time he'd offered kindness, she felt guilty for not realizing it sooner. Every single time he'd looked at her like she's hung the stars in the sky, she now understood what it meant. 

She might've not recognized him, but he did. He did, and not only from this lifetime, half of which she's forgotten. Not, he knew her from long ago, and it hurt ten times as much. 

Her fingers curled in his black shirt, bringing him closer to her. Even when her mind screamed at her in betrayal, she needed to feel him next to her. 

With gentle whispers, he kissed her wet cheeks. 

“My beloved,” he whispered. “It's alright. Why don't you try to breathe with me, hm?” 

Taking one of her hands in his, he pressed her palm against his chaotic heart. A constant thump-thump-thump beneath her fingers, a sound that reverberated in her bones too. He held her hand against the place where a red gem had once sat, embedded in his chest. 

Little by little, her cries died down. Little by little, she opened her eyes and stared at their joined hands, at his large hand covering hers on top of his heart. The huntress looked at the lines of his neck, watched his pulse with fear. 

No matter how much relief washed over him, Sylus was endlessly sorry for the torment she was put through. As if one life wasn't enough to remember all of a sudden, now she had to deal with another one. 

“Sylus.”

He shifted and pressed his forehead against hers. The white strands of hair tickled her skin. Her eyes glistened with too many things she couldn't voice. 

“Take it easy,” he reassured her softly. “I'm right here. I will be for as long as you let me.” 

He didn't allow her to avert her gaze until she nodded in approval. A small “good” slipped from his lips before he moved the both of them in a tight embrace. 

The twins had grown worried, having heard nothing from their boss. Against better judgement, they appeared at the door of the library. They saw their dearest protectors comfort each other in silence and let out a sigh of relief. 

A few moments of silence filled his office. Before he knew it, there was a pressure at the tip of his ear — his cat-like ear. She had bitten it softly. 

“Sweetie,” he groaned as he moved his head away from her oh, so dangerous assault. “What do you think you're doing?”

“They were twitching so cutely.” 

A long “aww” sound escaped her lips when his ears did it again. What Sylus had felt couldn't be described as pain, no, it was more like an annoying ticklish sensation that had the hair at his nape raise. 

“I'm not cute, my beloved,” he sighed heavily. 

She raised one of her hands and ruffled his hair. It has gotten a bit longer in the past months, since the last time he trimmed it. That mullet suited him quite well, or so the huntress thought. 

“You very much are, Sylus. Too cute to handle, especially like that.” 

Despite how much he tried to act annoyed, his ears stood straight and his heart thrummed in between his ribs. A comfortable and warm feeling settled in his chest at her compliments, at such an open display of affection. 

He turned his head so he could meet her gaze. 

“If I'm cute, then how should I describe you, hm?” 

“Someone who's head over heels for your cuteness?” she tilted her head to the side with a smile. 

Sylus felt like jumping on her. Like he could kiss the breath out of her lungs. Like he could bite into her cheeks and never get tired of it. 

What did she call this? Cuteness aggression? 

“You're impossible, kitten,” he huffed. 

With a gentle nudge, he grabbed one of her wrists and guided her closer to him. She moved around the couch until she got in his lap. Instead of sitting on his lap like he thought she would, she placed her thighs on each side of his hips. His large hands settled on her thighs and he squeezed gently at the flesh, eyeing her curiously. 

The huntress shot him with another irresistible grin. 

“Before you call me that again, look into a mirror.”

“You're such a tease,” Sylus shook his head. 

Annoyed? No, he wasn't annoyed, not really. He found her to be the cute one in between the two of them, considering she couldn't take her eyes off of his ears or tail. She might have a short attention span at times, but at that moment, nothing could get her off of him. 

Sylus relished in it. He relaxed and wrapped his arms around her middle, bringing her closer to him. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against her shoulder and inhaled her scent deeply. Her sweet deodorant mixed with the scent of his shower gel, it felt like he was breathing into what some would call Heaven. 

She caressed his ears, rubbing the caramel-like fur with a gentle press of her fingers. Running her thumb and pointer finger up his ear, she pinched the black point of his ear. In the meantime, the big and scary boss of Onychinus let out a content sigh. A few moments later, he groaned in a way so similar to a deep purr. 

“So you actually like being petted,” she concluded out loud. 

“Just because it's you,” he answered on the spot. 

Of course. He trusted her with his life and death. So she continued to rake his scalp in slow motions, leaving gentle kisses on his hair and ears. He might've complained for the past day, but Sylus was far too happy with the affection he was receiving for any other comment to leave his lips. No, he loved her and the attention she bestowed upon him. 

With her knees sunk in the cushion, she moved a little in his lap. Just enough to earn a deep groan from him, a sound she's heard many times before. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, settling in his lap. 

His hands gripped at her hips and his lips parted. All this love he got might've run straight to his head and not only. In an attempt to relax again, he inhaled her scent. 

It didn't work. And she could feel it, the way his muscles tensed, the way he opened his eyes as if he contemplated whether or not he should ask her to roll her hips a little more. 

And why the fuck was he getting turned on so easily? What was he, an adolescent? 

Sylus felt the shape of her lips curl into a smile against his temple. 

“I wonder what you would've done if I'd used catnip as perfume,” the huntress chuckled. 

“I don't think I need catnip as long as you're near,” he huffed. 

Her presence was more than just enough. Especially when her fingers continued to rub at the base of his ears and he felt like he was getting set on fire. 

Her lover pressed his lips against her pulse with a soft plea. 

“Stop, if you don't want to deal with more than just a ‘fussy cat’,” as she had called him earlier that day. 

The huntress's smile didn't waver. Nor did her hands as they dragged that T-shirt off of him, kissing his lips and biting at his tongue. Their clothes disappeared one by one, until their sweaty and hot bodies were glued together. After teasingly sliding her panties down her legs, she resumed her position in his lap. 

She let out a moan as she settled on his length properly, rolling her hips slowly. He grabbed at her hips firmly, like he rarely did, only when everything got too overwhelming for him to hold back. With a groan, he pressed her hips closer. 

Deeper and deeper, she felt him tickle her nerves, poke at her very core. Her mind was running on pure pleasure, so she could only chase more of it as she moved in his lap. 

Sylus hid his face in her neck, ears flat and tail twitching at every movement of hers. He was trying to hold her still, even as she squirmed in his lap. Flat ears? That wasn't a good sign—

“Sy,” she hummed. “Are you okay?” 

“I'll cum if you move,” he admitted in an embarrassed tone. 

Her tensed muscles relaxed on the spot, trying her best to hold still. Everything ached, the depths of her lower belly and her fingers too, they ached to scratch at his back or pull at his hair. Who knew what kind of new sound he'd make if she licked at his neck. 

She wanted to know. Fuck, she wanted so badly to make him go insane, wanted so badly to hear his purrs and moans. Almost always, her lover was more sensitive when she was riding him. He moaned a little more, he would throw his head back in pleasure. Now she wanted more. 

His hands had relaxed on her hips. 

“Can I move now?” she whispered in his ear. “Please? Sy?” 

“Fucking hell, kitten,” he groaned in a husky tone, “I'll combust if you say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

Oh, that sensual voice again, whispered and sweet, more tempting than all the seven sins of hell combined. She was a devil incarnate during times like these, when she had the smallest advantage over him. 

Sylus gripped at her hips once more. Did she really believe that some cat-like ears and a tail could ruin him? Alright, maybe it did. But she was the one ruining him, truth be told. 

Raising her hips, he received an indignant whimper, followed by a loud moan when he dropped her back in his lap. 

“Fuck, Sylus,” she parted her lips. 

He rolled his hips into hers a few more times, his pelvis glued to hers. They rubbed against each other so well it had her eyes roll in the back of her head. So deep inside of her, barely moving, but filling her up so nicely. 

A moan slipped from his mouth as he rubbed his cheek against hers. He took in a deep breath and raised her hips once again, helping her move up and down in his lap. It was downright filthy, the way she had probably been turned on already. Too wet for how little foreplay they've had. 

“Have you been thinking of me today, kitten?” he chuckled darkly at her ear. “You move so easily.”

“Shush,” she hid her face in his neck. 

Clearly, he was right. 

“That's so sweet of you. So thoughtful, waiting for me to make a move.” 

Trying her best to ignore the embarrassment that had her face on flames, she moved her hips in tandem with him. Their moans and heavy pants filled the office, warm bodies glued to each other. It was hot, so hot and so warm, pleasure running like electricity through their veins. 

“I didn't, ah—.” She curled her fingers in his shoulders, scratching it with her nails. “I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable.” 

Love thrummed beneath his skin at her words. Pressing her flush against him, he barely let her move. It was just enough to cause friction, the kind of sensation that had them both melting and twitching. 

Sensing that he was maybe too comfortable, she caught the tip of his ear in between her teeth and bit gently. That earned her a bite of her shoulder, one that had a pained moan escape her lips. 

“You asked for it,” he chuckled proudly. 

Sylus refused to let her move. Instead, he raised his hips to meet hers in hurried motions, his hands gripping tightly at her flesh. Lost in bliss, he was floating on hot clouds, beads of sweat trailing from his temple down his jaw. 

Her sweet sounds of pleasure were everything that he wanted, as they set his nerves on fire. His heightened hearing had to deal with her moans in his ear, and it had him roll his eyes in the back of his head. One of her hands slipped down his spine, at the small of his back. With a well-practiced scratch right there, she received a choked moan of her name. 

A grin broke on her lips.

He rubbed against her clit whenever their hips met and she was stretched out too well to hold back any reactions. The name of her lover flew from the tip of her tongue so easily, like a mantra, as she heaved. Tensing her thighs against his hips, she threw her head back. 

“I'll cum—”

That warning was all he needed before he slipped a hand where they were joined, pressing his thumb against her clit. Mouth agape, she choked on her last moan before she shivered and twitched in his hold. The spasms of her muscles had him cum in no time as well, twitching inside her as he drew out their highs with rolls of his hips. 

Heavy breaths, sweaty and warm bodies embraced. The huntress curled her arms around his neck and held him close, keeping him inside her for a little longer. 

“How could you believe you could ever make me uncomfortable, sweetie?” 

“Still,” she hummed, eyes closed.

There couldn't be a better proof of love other than that, so he kissed her cheek gently. The urge to leave his mark on her took over, however, and he nipped at her cheek. 

“Sylus!” she giggled, trying to get away. 

“Yes, sweetie?” 

He sounded so proud. 

“You're such an ass, even as a cat.” 

“You didn't say that when you were cumming, though.” 

"Have any idea where Sylus is?"

"Still sleeping, I think," Luke hummed with a shrug.

They never knocked at their boss's bedroom door when there were no emergencies. He never liked having his sleep be disturbed anyways, and these days have been strangely peaceful.

"Miss!" Kieran beamed from the kitchen. "We've been cooking something." He waved his hands in the air like a scolded child when he noticed the frown on her face. "No, Luke didn't touch the stove. Want some?"

A sigh escaped her lips.

"Thank the heavens. Sorry to disappoint, dear, but I ate something with my coworkers before leaving office."

She ruffled their hair affectionately and received two identical huffs before she hurried to take a quick shower. With a glance at her hunter's watch, she wondered if Sylus was sick — it was 7 p.m. already and he was usually awake by 6. Also, he wasn't exactly the type to sleep in unless he was clinging to her and postponing paperwork.

Thirty minutes later, the huntress exited the bathroom with Sylus's robe on her. She had forgotten about taking hers from the closet, but she was lucky enough to find his in there. It was a little large on her, but if she was to be honest, the material was always snug against his shoulders.

Water tickled down her neck. Hair barely damb, she tried to keep it dry as she had washed it just the previous day.

She didn't knock when she entered Sylus's bedroom; or more like, their bedroom. Months ago, he would've jumped out of bed when someone came in unannounced. Taking the room in, she noticed the cotton sheet had slid down to his waist, to the delicious curve of his hips. Sylus's back was bare as he slept on his stomach, the cool air of the impeding night kissing the expanse of tanned skin.

She walked to the bed; there was a gun right next to his pillow, in his reach in case anything were to happen — a habit he's had ever since she met him. Longer than that, she knew it.

When she sat at the edge of the king-sized bed, she noticed the pink dusting his cheeks. She doesn't remember her boyfriend having any usual blush, unless she was lucky enough to tease and push the right buttons.

"Sy?" she hummed.

Her hand slid over the silky sheets, closer and closer to him. Usually, she wouldn't hesitate, but if he had a fever, he might become alert for no apparent reason.

She was mistaken, however.

Only one of his eyes opened. He moved his hand closer to hers and curled his long fingers into her palm.

"Are you feeling sick?"

The question seemed to pass by him. He saw the arch of her brow, questioning and worried, but he had to gather enough power to talk with that sandpaper voice. The twins brought his attention to the deepening of his voice lately.

He knew what he sounded like. Sylus's knew it had something to do with his past as a dragon and he couldn't do anything in regards to that.

"The Aether Core is acting up," he answered in a whisper.

His gaze never left hers. Seconds passed by and he felt the urge to hold her, kiss her, leave his mark on her, to slid between her plush thighs and make a mess of her. With another slow blink, he squeezed the pillow under his head and grunted quietly — his imagination was getting out of hand.

"Oh?" her furrow deepened. "It never did before."

"It's rare."

Sylus brought her hand closer to his mouth, breathing her in. His lips touched the back of her hand reverently, but he didn't let go.

His beloved got closer and ran her fingers through his damp hair. A heavy groan escaped his lips at the temperature change against his forehead. Fuck, it felt good, but for some reason his eye ached again and he wanted it to stop. It was annoying, truly.

She managed to bring him relief, but to also bring him to the edge of his sanity by being so close.

Sylus didn't know what's gotten into him, but before the both of them could process his actions, she was under him, the v-line of his robe on her low. The valley of her breasts was out in the open for him to kiss. Sneaky fingers curled around her thighs, opening them for him, and he swore he wasn't that hard five minutes ago.

"Ah," a groan escaped his lips when he accidentally pressed himself against her core.

"Sylus," she whined.

Her fingers curled at his nape. Their gazes locked.

"You're burning. Are you sure you're alright?"

Sylus was, indeed, burning. From inside out, there was a scorching fire that threatened to burn both of them to ashes.

"Can I?" he breathed out lowly.

There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Your presence is more than enough, sweetie. You're also tired, aren't you?"

"No, no, that's not it," she chuckled lightly. "I'm just worried about you."

At that, a predatory grin flashed on his face.

"I've got you cornered and all you worry about is still me. What a sweet little thing you are, dearest."

Their mouths clashed together, heated and possessive. Sylus swallowed her soft whines when he shifted his hips, and his fingers were already untying the robe. She grabbed at his hair and raised his head, away from her lips. It earned her a displeased grunt, along with another shift of his hips.

"Tell me if you don't feel well, alright?" she whispered.

Sylus swore he could've melted right then and there if it wasn't for the desire crawling up his throat.

"Always, love."

It felt like more than usual, the way he had decided to please her and himself. His boxers thrown carelessly — his only piece of clothing —, the robe he didn't even bother to move from underneath her. Pleasure ran through her tense core when their bodies sank into one another, back arching a little at the pressure.

His heavy breath, ruby eyes that shone with despair and a desire she's quite never seen before. Never before meeting him, this man sculpted by the gods that happened to choose her in this life. He was everywhere; his scent in her lungs, his gaze on every part or her, him inside of her, in the depths of her tummy.

Sylus was burning. He burnt from inside out and even if he had wanted to suppress it, he wouldn't be capable of doing so, not when his lover was so warm, so soft and pliant in his hold. Her squirming made it worse — his fingers gripped at her hips, caressing the skin, a little rough.

"I need you," and he didn't know why he said it.

Her eyelids fluttered as another wave of pleasure ran through her. With her nails sinking and scratching at his back, his groans and heavy breathing kept her somewhat still conscious of her surroundings.

"You have me, Sylus," she whispered.

Another moan escaped her lips when he touched a sensitive spot inside of her. Sylus noticed, of course he did, so he moved his hips in the same angle, just to get another reaction from her. The most gorgeous being in the entire world, the most precious jewel of his lIfetimes, with her hair splayed on his pillow and her lips bitten by him.

Mesmerizing, not only beautiful, but desire and strength all in one person, the very essence of his life which he shared with her — intertwined souls. Probably that's why his eye ached again, duller this time, as if satisfied with this outcome. His body demanded him to close his eyes, but he didn't want to, even when the pleasure was raw and too much.

"Look at me."

It was a growl, somewhere in the depths of his chest. She felt the vibration in her hands, against her skin, she felt it in the air. Having never heard that voice before, she still somewhat recognized it. Her brain, mushy and incoherent, didn't register the possible danger, because there was none.

So she opened her eyes and stared into his crimson eyes, looked at him despite the ache in her body, despite the squirming. Tilting her head to the side in overstimulation, she followed his plea.

"Sy— ah," her eyebrows knitted in a frown.

It felt good, too good almost. The weight of him over her, the sensation of his hot skin, his shaky and deep voice.

She slid a hand from his shoulder to grip gently at his necklace and bring him closer, kissing him with need. It was wet and a little messy, but she swore his lips had never tasted so good before. Like a forbidden fruit, truly, too sweet to handle yet still addicting. The kind of drug that doesn't kill, but makes you want to continue living and chasing the pleasure it brings.

Sylus shifted above her. One of his forearms rested next to her head, the other sliding down thigh, moving her leg in a wider angle. Once again, searching for a spot that'd have her see stars.

And stars she saw.

Arching, she parted away from the kiss with a wanton moan, eyes closing shut.

"Fu— fuck," she whimpered.

Her fingers were still curled in his necklace, keeping him near. If he could, he would've slid under her skin, he would've hugged her so close they'd ribs would touch and flowers would grow — not out of death, but the life that thrummed in their veins, the life he was so greedy to spend with her.

White hair tickled her forehead. This time, she couldn't look at him anymore, too caught up in the moment. His hips moved and moved and moved, like he made it his purpose to have her not only come undone, but melt under the pressure of his love and devotion.

Another guttural groan slipped past his lips and he leaned forward, forehead glued to her neck. She smelt like her and him and it drove Sylus crazy. All the scolding he received for giving her love bites and he never learnt his lesson, especially during a time like this, when he had to focus in order to still keep himself in check.

Something told him he's lost control of himself the moment she told him yes. When his teeth caught onto her neck, her hand cradled the back of his head, curling in his hair blissfully. The call of his name was her last warning before white-hot pleasure cursed through her.

The air was hard to breathe when she clenched around him and he still kept going, her heart almost jumped out of her chest. Legs shaking and body trembling in his hold, she threw her head back with tears that clung to her lashes. She pressed her free leg against his hips, while her fingers raked over his scalp.

His motions turned erratic, a little faster, as he chased whatever pleasure was left in the both of them. There will be marks on her the next day, in the places where he was desperately gripping at her. The depths of his stomach turned and his chest was somehow filled with something, as there was no empty space in the place where his heart was. No, the indents of his ribs and the space in between them were filled with her.

When he finally stilled, he panted heavily against her cheek. Whatever strength he had left in him dissipated, and he tried his best not to crush her under his weight.

The bliss lasted. With her fingers still running gently through his hair, he stayed inside of her for a little longer, savoring these moments.

"Sweetie," he asked with a gentle caress over her ribs.

A soft, tired hum. Then, her fingers intertwined with his and the weight of his love spread, out of his ribs and into his entire body. It was easier to breathe, too, the ache of his eye gone. A barely there golden light illuminated their embraced bodies and he let himself fall comfortably on top of her.

"I love you," she whispered at his ear.

Those words struck him in the gut. He pressed his nose into her collarbone with a relieved exhale. The fingers on her hips traveled up to her ribs, caressing her body like a prayer. No, he doesn't remember the last time he prayed on his knees, but he remembers every single time he held her delicately.

He has never held her like that because he thinks of her as weak, but because him and her line of work knew how much gore she encountered on a daily basis. Care and love were a luxury in a life like theirs, filled with blood and deaths you didn't even get to mourn properly. So, Sylus chose to bath her in love instead. Her eyes always crinkled when he did so, and damn him if he'll ever get tired of that blissed look on her face.

Raising himself on his forearms, he towered over her. Her hair was ruffled, splayed all over his pillow, and he wasn't aware of the dumbstruck smile that curled up his lips. Love bites painted over her neck, the mark of his teeth close to her shoulder. Her dazed expression, lips parted in awe.

His chest constricted when her hand cupped his jaw. The bliss of his orgasm had every last bit of his walls crumble. With a sting behind his eyes, he leaned into her touch, searching for more of her confession in her gestures. Her thigh brushed by his as she made herself more comfortable under his weight.

"I love you so much," she whispered again.

By sheer will power Sylus managed to lock eyes with her. The world be damned; he was always weak when she gazed at him like that. In a way he couldn't explain, the kind of spark that had his heart jump and gave him goosebumps. His body shivered, it forced him to lay on her once more, in hopes of more affection.

Fingers running from his cheek up into his hairline, scratching at his scalp. Every time her nails touched those two specific spots at the crown of his head, he'd melt further into their embrace.

"I love you, sweetie," he whispered, barely aware of himself. "More than I can put into words."

It was painful sometimes, being unable to express his devotion through words. Actions had always spoken louder than words, but there were times when he wanted to scream it from the top of his lungs.

"Just stay like this a little longer," she hummed. "Even when you explained nothing of your love, I somehow knew what's up with you."

She breathed into his hair. Her chest, pressed against his, expanded.

"Just stay."

"I don't ever intend to leave."

His lips pressed against her neck. A gentle, long kiss. The breath fanning over her skin probably tickled her, but she didn't move.

A/N: Later I noticed that their last two replies don't state who says what — and I figured those words fit the both of them. His growls and glowing eye signifies the temporary appearance of his dragon traits. She recognizes his growls but is too lost in bliss to figure he's different. And yes, I headcanon that Sylus gets emotional after intense sex.

If you're in search of other Sylus fics, I've got a masterlist link in my pinned post.

Such a gentle sound he couldn't believe it carried the weight of his name (his nickname was so sweet on the tip of her tongue). 

His lips parted and he could swear there was a witty answer he wanted to say, but it somehow got stuck at the base of his throat. (What did he even want to say? He didn't remember.) All he knew was fear. For a moment, he pitied those who knew such a feeling. (For a second, he even pitied himself. No, it was the devil in the back of his head that was disgusted by his own fear.) 

The next thing he knew was the tender hand that settled on his cheek and the thumb moving over his purplish under eye. Sylus was met with a gentle gaze, the kind of gaze he's been dreaming of and yearning for. The Gods couldn't fathom how much he's missed that look in her eyes. 

“What's wrong?” 

She'll be the death of him. She already was. (Hopefully, she won't have to meet the same fate in this lifetime.) 

“Ain't I disgusting? Scary? A mon—”

A monster. However, her thumb settled on top of his lips and he was at a loss of words. 

“You're mine.” 

Sylus sucked in a panicked breath, something within his chest snapping, ugly and somewhat possessive. Ugly and fearsome, like a beast snarling at the bars of its cage (a poor heart beating frantically in between his ribs). 

“Even if you were to be one, you'd still be mine,” she whispered again. 

With her thumb, she pressed gently against his lower lip. With a slow and deliberate caress, his lover looked down at him with a warmth he's never been greeted with before, with a warmth he's only seen in another lifetime. 

Sylus cannot remember exactly how he ended up in this situation. All he knew was that his business had been a violent success, thus his blood soaked clothes and tainted skin. 

The following second, he had been greeted by his beloved as he had entered the Onychinus mansion. Everything had been a blur of frantic heartbeats and anxiety teetering on panic. Her eyes had been worried and a little dull even, but she brushed him off. ‘I've had a long day, but I missed you too much not to drop by.’ 

His fear-fueled brain didn't register that sentence properly. And that's how he ended up sitting on the edge of the large bathtub, with that beautiful (and too kind) woman standing between his legs as she washed away the blood (and all his crimes) from his face. 

“But if I am to be very honest, you're not a monster for me,” she shrugged like it was just another Tuesday. “I'd be hypocritical to say you're some kind of hero, but the least I can say is that whatever you are, you're mine. As a matter of fact, you're just the boss of Onychinus.” 

She regarded him with a simplicity that left him gulping down in shock, fingers curling into fists against his thighs. 

It was now or never. 

“I'm scared that one day you'll see me the same way you did in the beginning,” his voice trembled against his will. 

Even the crimson in his eyes seemed to tremble under her gaze. Even the blood in his veins rushed through his veins, as if to lap at her feet like the darkest of waters. 

The finger on his lips moved and before his nerves could spike up, she cupped his face in both of her palms. There were still a few traces of red on his skin, but she ignored it. 

“That'd be very uninspired of me,” she huffed a tired, noncommittal chuckle. 

Her thumbs rubbed circles on his sculpted cheekbones. Leaning in, her lips pressed against his forehead. (The beast inside the cage of his ribs had stopped snarling.) 

A gasp managed to escape his trembling lips. 

“Don't worry your mind with such a thing, my love. We're past that phase. I am. I don't fear you or anything that has to do with you.” 

Sylus tentatively raised his hands and let them curl at the slope of her waist, holding tenderly onto her. His heart ached, but he didn't want to break eye contact, he didn't want to look away, not when he was looked upon with such gentleness. 

She wasn't scared of him. Hasn't been for months. 

And if she decided to bestow such gentleness upon him, who was he to deny her? 

No matter how much she loved Caleb, his behavior had been unsettling. 

The dam had broken and before she knew it, she was shaking in the arms of her beloved. And like the devoted lover that he was, he held her tightly, despite the aching heart beating painfully in his chest. As if he knew, as if he could feel her heart shattering. Instead of pushing it away, he let it happen, he let himself hurt as well, with the hope that it'll steal away some of her pain. 

“Don't say that, darling,” he whispered softly against her ear, fingers tightening on her shoulder. “Don't.”

“But it's the truth,” she whimpered against his neck. “I can't. I'm too tired to keep myself together, it's too much. I wish you were my enemy so that I'd disintegrate into thin air. I wish—” but she couldn't continue any further, her cries intensifying. 

It was silent. Except for the small whimpers when she ran out of breath, except for the broken words, no other sound escaped her lips. With her fingers tightened into the collar of his maroon shirt, she bit at her own lip. 

It was a lot. It was too much, the pain, the despair, the hollow in her chest that's just been reopened for the hundredth time. 

For months, he's been her everything. He still was her everything, but a small piece of her soul had been broken and never put back together by that one person — Caleb had broken her for the second time. 

She hurt Sylus with her stupid words. The realization hit her when his hold onto her tightened. Just like that, her arms curled around his shoulders and she hugged him with firmness, despite the broken pieces of her heart that beat weakly between their chests. 

“I'm sorry for saying that,” she shook her head, closing her eyes as another tear ran down her face. “I shouldn't have. I know you only care about me. I promise I know, Sylus.”

His breath shuddered when she spoke his name like that, in that sad and mournful tone. Pressing his nose against her hair and swallowing her scent deep within his lungs, it was hard to hide his own despair. His very soulmate was breaking in his arms and he wasn't even sure how to mend her broken pieces back together. 

“It's not you talking,” he reassured her in such a gentle tone. “It's the grief and the pain. You don't have to explain yourself.”

“But I can't cause you suffering just because I'm in pain.” Another broken whimper. 

“And even if you do, I'll gladly accept it for as long as I can hold you for a little longer.”

If only she had hated everyone, it would've been easier to go through with her life. It would've been easier to handle it, it would've been easier if it wasn't for her beating heart and her stupid, pitiful soul. If it wasn't for the life living inside that body, it would've been easier. 

Sliding one of her hands down from his shoulder to his chest, she pressed her fingers against his body. Feeling that very same life beat under her touch ruined something within her as a shard was put back into its rightful place. Sylus was there and he was breathing, he was right next to her, holding her like no one else has. Caring for her in ways she's only dreamt of being cared for. 

“I'm one mind away from killing whoever has put you through this.” His solemn tone was filled with a promise. 

“I wish I had it within myself to let you do it. But I can't,” she shook her head. 

Her hair tickled the side of his neck and he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through the strands. 

Love was, indeed, the most painful thing he's ever felt. It was painful for the way he had to watch his beloved cry in his arms when he could do nothing to help her, when he could do nothing to properly solve the situation. Never once in this life has he ever felt so helpless, all because of her. She had twisted his life, had knotted the threads and he couldn't undo it anymore. Truthfully speaking, he'd never wished to undo those knots, even if it hurt. 

Had she asked him to kill someone, he would've. Had she told him to ruin a city, he would've. Had she pleaded with him to burn the whole world to the ground, he would've. 

But she didn't and that was the hardest part of them all. Instead, she asked for a kindness that wasn't even alive, a kindness reserved to a few things. Stray cats and lonely children, mourning people and that hurt dove she's helped once. The mechanical crow and the twins. Her. 

Multiple times, she had tugged at his heart in a way he didn't even believe it was possible. Sometimes, holding himself back from torturing a man was a sign of kindness — in his life, in that business, mercy was the highest act of kindness. On a normal day, he wouldn't have cared, she wouldn't have cared either. But this time, she did. 

So Sylus was left helpless while his soulmate silently cried against his chest. 

“Don't let go,” she murmured softly, voice hoarse. 

“That's how little you think of me, sweetie?” his soft whisper brushed against her ear. 

Her only answer was the tightening grip onto his shirt. Another sigh escaped his lips. 

Raising her head, she cupped his face in between her palms with a tenderness that stole his breath. She looked at him with a love so gentle, and for a split second he saw that white haired woman with red eyes. In the reflection of her glassy eyes, he saw the reflection of a monstrous dragon that resembled a human far too much. 

Sylus didn't realize when he said her name in a reverent tone. It slipped so easily, despite the low number of times he's used it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he whispered. 

Instead of answering, she continued to admire the beautiful man that was holding her so dearly. Running her thumbs over his cheek bones, dipping a little into the dark circles under his eyes, she treated him the way one would treat glass. 

It tugged and clawed at his heart, ruining every piece of him and putting it back together. He recognized that stare from a life of long ago. His breath hitched. 

“I've never missed you as much as I did in the last weeks,” she cracked a small smile. 

Sylus removed one of his hands from her waist and placed it at the side of her neck, cupping the warm skin in his palm. Something flashed in her eyes — fear. 

All she could think of was that gloved hand (she once found comfort in) grip at her throat. 

His hand raised like he's been struck and his gaze mirrored hers. However, she pressed his hand back where it was. 

“It's not you,” she assured him. “I promise. It has nothing to do with you.” 

He was hyper aware of his own breathing, a little laboured and quick, heart beating faster. 

“Sylus.” It snapped him out of his head. His eyes were, once again, focused on her. “It's alright. I trust you.”

“I've also missed you, kitten,” he hummed instead, trying to avoid her gaze for a little while. 

I trust you. How long he's dreamt of hearing those words, how long he had hit that boxing sack with pure hatred for his own self. 

Usually, he would've teased her. “How much did you miss me, hm?”, “Really, kitten? Let me show you just how I missed you too”, “I feel honored to know you've thought of me, sweetie”. 

However, at that moment, teasing didn't seem like a good answer. Too shallow to fit. The loving words slipping from her mouth — from between those pretty, sweet lips — twisted another claymore straight through his chest. 

“Love.”

Their gazes locked together once more. Sylus was surprised to hear that pet name — it wasn't unusual, but it was rare enough to make his heart skip a beat or two, or more. As if she had heard his thoughts, she leaned in closer, their breaths mingling together. 

Peace had settled around them in a thick cloak. The planet stopped rolling and the hands of the clock stood still, its sound nowhere to be heard. 

She read right through him, could feel the avoidance in his gaze and gestures, the way there was something he tried so hard to hide — and he failed, because she knew better than that. Before her eyes didn't sit a fierce beast, but rather a kind man. 

They ached to kiss, to feel each other's lips, but there was something greater burning inside their hearts, something that swayed in the small space between them. Something that could only be seen and felt when they stayed so close, stripped of all walls and shields, as they were each other's protection. 

“Are you sure you won't let me destroy whoever brought you back to square one?” he arched his eyebrow. 

The answer was obvious, Sylus was just trying his luck once more. If she had decided to do something, nothing could change her mind. The sadness in her eyes reappeared. 

“I'm sorry, Sylus.”

Once more, she hid her face against his neck, arms curling around his waist. 

“There's no need to apologize, sweetie,” he hummed. “You should rest.”

“Will you chase away my nightmares?” She's been having plenty in the past weeks. 

“Always, kitten.”

Even if for her he couldn't be the ‘big, bad mafia boss’, he will act like it if he has to. His sole reason was to protect her from whoever threatened to destroy her peace. 

“I promise I'll chase away yours in return.” 

There was no moon in the night sky. Clouds had covered every surface of it. 

Outside the window, a dove with pretty white feathers tilted its head as it stared at them with curiosity. 

A/N: The dove, yes 🥰 I'm referring to the dove MC saved in Nightplumes, the one Sylus took care of. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you can find it on YouTube or you can get the 5stars card in the wishing well, I think.

When he takes his hand away from her after she flinches, the reason why she tries to comfort him is because she knows there's still remnants of some insecurities. Sylus has gone at her pace the entire time and he is fully aware of how brutal he's been in the beginning, when they first met. However, each one of them has their own triggers, as you can see.

The merman watched as a small golden fish danced between his fingers. With a gentle push, the fish kissed his palm. Rafayel smiled softly, almost forgetting about the cries carried by the sea currents. 

“May the sea be damned!” an angry man wailed at the storm above him. 

“The storm won't stop if you curse the waters, old man,” Rafayel's tone dipped with venom. “You don't hear our cries when you kill our kind. Of course the sea will steal your loved ones. Right, little one?” his purple eyes sparkled at the fish. 

The small creature almost bumped into the tip of his nose. With his eyes crossed, Rafayel laughed. 

The water seemed to still. Strangely, like there was a weight heavier than the sea could carry. 

The storm above was hard to ignore. The sea knew — the sea knew of the grief and the vicious words spoken to Her, She knew there was a young human drowning in it. Unlike them, the Sea was merciful. 

Rafayel gulped down. The weight settled on his heart and quickened his heartbeats, body aching restlessly. Raising his head, with a deep frown between his brows, bubbles escaped his lips as he sighed. 

Fine. The Sea must know better than him. 

So he swam closer and closer to the surface, until a glimpse of color caught his eye. That someone whom the Sea didn't want to kill just yet. 

The Sea could be so demanding sometimes. 

The poor woman was just as cold as him. Unusual for a human, Rafayel thought as he curled his arms around her body. 

A pair of empty eyes opened slowly. All she could hear was a delicate, yet deep hum. A hum that morphed into an incoherent song, a song more beautiful than a lullaby. Her forehead was resting against a cold shoulder, cold yet so tempting. Like something deep within herself, something like desire curled from deep within her chest and unraveled. 

Rafayel, with a suspicious eye, watched as she drifted back into slumber. Pushing to the surface of the water, he laid her down on the sand. His neck cracked lightly when he threw his head back to look up at the chaos in the sky. 

Thunder boomed heavily and light flashed across the dark grey clouds. The wind was unforgiving, catching onto his long hair. 

And when the worst had passed, Rafayel went back into the Sea. 

II. 

Her father was at fault for the love that nestled in her heart, for how much she adored the sea and the water. Even after almost drowning, she couldn't quite let go of it. When her parents admonished her, she had tried to reason with them. 

‘The sea has always been dangerous, but it won't stop me from having a journey once in a while.’ 

Sadly, they had forbidden her from getting on a ship again. So all she could do was sneak away somewhere close to the sea, not far away from the palace.

Heels discarded on the sand, she lifted the hem of her dress as she stepped into the water. It tickled her toes and lapped at her ankles. Raising her dress a little more, the water was already soaking its hem by the time it reached the middle of her calves. 

Taking in a slow, deep breath, she smiled at the bright sky. Having been stuck with royal duties, she had missed the sea. Said royal duties didn't only include private lessons with high-ranked professors or manners and dancing, playing the piano. Sadly, it also meant she was worrying about—

The princess squinted her eyes at the sea. A long shadow swam in the water and… it was heading towards her. Could it be a dolphin? No, they're smaller. It seemed like a humanoid silhouette… 

Said creature emerged from the water. All that she knew was the air pushed out of her lungs as a gasp left her lips. 

“It’s you,” she breathed out.

The princess had deemed it as a dream. There was no way someone like him existed and no one could've survived in those chaotic waters. Countless people have died on the sea, men lost in its greedy depths. 

Him. The man with purple hair she had seen when she drowned in the sea. The long strands of hair fell to his waist, framing his deep gaze. The same tantalizing gaze, the same gem-like eyes, the same sculpted face. A piercing presence that had her heart twist and tremble, something she thought of as a dream. 

Under the water, she caught a glimpse of a long tail, the tail… of a fish? No, that was not just a man. It was a merman. It was what sailors feared the most. He was— 

He was absolutely ethereal. 

Stepping back, she stumbled and fell, hands splayed over the wet sand as she tried to catch herself with lack of grace. 

She backed away, fingers digging in the sand. The hand curled around her ankle sent an arrow running through her veins at a rapid pace, eyes widening in surprise and something more. Something a little more palpable, a little stronger, something like fear. With a flinch, the beautiful merman tilted his head to the side as he let go. 

“What? That's the gratitude you show me after I've saved your life?” 

Glaring at him with caution, she took in his confused expression. An arched eyebrow, purple wet hair glued to his forehead. Seemingly annoyed by the sensation, he ruffled the strands of hair, but his gaze never left hers. Burning into her being, into her soul, just enough to bare her heart to an unknown person. He was forcing her ribcage open with a simple gaze. 

All that he found was a dull panic that twisted into knots. Something raw, but ever present, like the anticipation has been building up slowly for years. 

Like something might snap anytime. 

“What're you doing?” came out her shuddering murmur. 

Rafayel almost scoffed. “What do you mean?”

“Gripping at me.” 

Her voice didn't crack and she didn't stutter, but she could feel the air get stuck at the base of her throat. Was she gonna die? The merman looked over body, down her dress, until his gaze fell on her exposed ankle. 

“You’re the one who owes me something,” and he leaned back a little. 

Even that little frown in between his brows looked mesmerizing on his pristine face. Every night, she falls asleep after mumbling a prayer to the Gods above and she wholeheartedly believed he'd been sculpted by them personally. They've taken their sweet time when they made him out of sand and sea shells. The most thoughtful thing was that they probably stole two stars from the sky and created his eyes. 

That must be it. Otherwise, she couldn't explain to herself, his very being, his very existence. 

“What did you think I was going to do, cutie?”

She clicked her tongue at the petname, bringing her knees a little closer to herself. Away from him. This time, however, he looked at her as if he wanted to unravel even more of her, as if he was ready to untwist her bloody vessels from her heart. Oddly suspicious, he seemed. 

“I don't know about mermen, but on land, men are merciless with lone women.” 

Or so she heard. Still unmarried, which was unusual considering she was close to her nineteenth birthday. Rare were the times when she got the chance to go around the kingdom or even be alone, but she's caught maids whispering between them. She had been lectured by her mother that whatever may her future husband ever want, she shall be delighted to offer it to him. No matter what it is, because otherwise she'd be just a stubborn daughter and an ungrateful wife. 

Rafayel’s expression morphed into one of astonishment. As if he, too, has heard of stories from above the waterline, about how humans treat each other. As if he has heard stories of weeping women that had lost a child at birth and were roughly handled by their husbands. As if he has heard a mother scolding her young daughter for being disobedient. 

“You humans really are merciless, aren't you?” 

“Tell me about it,” she snapped her head to the other side. 

Shifting on the sand, she curled her arms around her knees and breathed in deeply. She didn't want to leave just yet — he was at fault for her reluctance. Rafayel hadn't lied when he called her curious.

The noises of sloshing water nudged her to turn her head back to the merman, who was shifting a little closer. Sitting on the sand with his tail still in the water, he leaned on one arm as he took her in. His gaze reflected hers; curious and intense, with a tinge of interest. Stripping each other of their skin. There was something similar to paint on his collarbones, running down his arms, but it didn't wash away in the waves. Her eyes lingered, until she got the chance to admire his tail. 

The scales sparkled under the sun rays like the kind of gems nobles would cry for. Light nuances of blue and purple blended together perfectly and she might've seen those colors during sunsets, when the world around takes her breath away. It was huge — two times longer than the upper half of his body. Her fingertips ached to touch. 

“Now it's my turn to ask what your intentions are.” 

His low tone sent a dangerous shiver down her spine. Eyes widening for a mere second, she snapped out of her reverie. She was gawking at him, and he didn't seem to like it. If anything, he quite despised it. 

“You're just pretty,” she reasoned all of a sudden. 

Not even a second later, blush creeped up her face and reddened her ears. What was she thinking, saying a thing like that? 

“I mean— I don't—” 

“What don't you?” he arched his eyebrow at her. 

Rafayel regarded her like a predator ready to snare, like someone who acted benevolent because it suited him. However, something much more tender was hidden behind that threatening tone. Vulnerable almost, like he, too, wanted to find more than cruelty in someone, like he was desperately holding onto a strand of hope. Although hope is just a fragile piece of glass, they clung onto it, hoping the other doesn't want to bring doom over them. 

She felt like a fish on dry sand and it was an awful sensation. Such a commanding presence, suffocating, leaving her bare. Even as she wanted to search for more in the little cracks of his personality, it was a damn hard task. 

“I don't mean anything bad by that,” she whispered, voice trailing off. 

Unsure, confused. Worried that she might've said something wrong, even if usually a man's reaction would've been an attempt to flirt. Instead, he regarded her with caution. 

For him, that compliment didn't sit right. On a normal day, a human would've already been plotting how to rip the scales off of him and bring him to tears. Instead, she wore a delicate expression, anxious. 

“What is it supposed to mean, then?” 

(He wanted to punish himself for the way his voice softened just a bit.) 

“I mean that you're beautiful. Like art.” 

“And what do you intend to do about that?”

“Look at you?” and now it was her time to awkwardly tilt her head to the side. 

Not in a ‘I'll strip you of your scales’ way, but more like ‘you're too gorgeous to get my eyes off of you and I can't really help myself’. He didn't feel analyzed or looked at like he was an object, but more like… admired. Rafayel felt admired, the same way children look up at a whale's belly when it swims above them. The same way he looks at colorful corrals when he's playing hide and seek with the fish. 

The princess could feel the shift in his demeanor, so she leaned in a little closer. Just enough to get a better look of his eyes, close enough to feel a cold scent waffling in the air. Close enough for a small smile to break on her lips when the top of his walls crumbled. 

The merman averted his gaze with a faint pink tinting his cheeks. He really was like a piece of art. 

“I might be from underwater, but staring it's rude,” he quipped, throwing her a glare. 

It was half hearted, actually. Some of his pride swelled at being admired, and in such an innocent way nonetheless. 

“I'm sorry about that,” she pulled her lips in a tight line and averted her gaze. 

The sea was lapping at her feet and she stretched her legs just a little more. The midday sun warmed up the water and she couldn't help the urge to seek that comforting sensation. As if the water gained a mind of itself and was indulging into her childish needs, kissing her ankles but never going further. Shy. 

“Why did you save me?” she whispered into nowhere. 

Gulping down, the princess tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. After all, the stories she's heard about mermaids were awful at best; most of them ended with a bloodbath and sailors drowning in the sea as the creatures took revenge for their stolen tears and scales, for their ripped silky tails. A never ending cycle. Most stories spoke of beautiful maidens with long tails, but the one next to her was the most beautiful man she's ever laid eyes on. 

And dangerous nonetheless — she could feel it in her chest, the waves of a threat lapping at her heart. 

“I wonder,” he hummed softly. 

This time, as she turned to take him in once again, he stared forward at the sea with a gentle expression on his face. 

How long until he shows his claws and drowns her too? 

III. 

Rafayel never did. The sound of his name rolling on her tongue sounded like musical notes, strangely. Maybe he's already sung the song of her death and she's been put under a spell, maybe she was already going insane. She continued to seek him out, always slipping away from her chambers before dinner. When the sun basked in the cool of the sea and the sky was a splendid canvas of colors, she would sit on the sand. More often than not, the merman would emerge from the water and sit next to her. 

One time, he caught her with a book in between her fingers. Knees bent, the princess rested it on her legs as she murmured something. The splash of water didn't seem to wake her up from her dreamy gaze. 

“Princess?”

Raising her head, she locked eyes with the beautiful merman. He was resting on his front side, tail flicking playfully in the air. Rafayel wore a curious smile on his face, the colors in his eyes so similar to the sunset. 

He was a sight to behold. The Gods above have created him to bewitch everyone that happens to lay eyes on him. 

The merman wasn't necessarily surprised by the look in her eyes — it was to be expected and it stroked his ego. However, the tenderness sculpted in her features whenever she looked at him was queer. Humans were supposed to be sexually seduced, to lust over him. They weren't supposed to blink shily and wear a tiny smile on their faces. She shouldn't grin so… cutely at him. 

“Hello to you too,” she hummed as she laid her legs on the wet sand. 

“What are you reading about?” he found himself asking before he could stop. 

Her gaze flickered between the book and the merman. 

“Love poems. They're quite sad, though.” 

“Aren't you a princess?” he arched his eyebrow at her, as if doubting her title as a future ruler. “With duties and stuff?” 

“Oh, believe me, I've been buried with political issues and strategic plans until now. And not that I dislike them, they're quite charming, but I've had enough of them for today.” 

At that answer, his lips twitched into a proud smile. So his princess was smart, hm? 

“For a moment, I thought all heirs on land are puppets of their parents.” 

With a roll of her eyes, she snapped her book closed. This fishie loved to tease her. 

“The amount of arguments I get into with my family is proof that you're wrong.”

“Now that's a rebellious daughter,” he chuckled. 

Tilting her head to the side, she shot him with a curious gaze. With one of his elbows digging in the sand, he rested his face into his palm, watching her. She wished she was a painter — maybe then she'd be able to stop the time in its tracks and capture the beauty of this scene. The princess wondered what kind of twisted pleasure people got from destroying the lives of other beings, ripping them away from the sea when they so obviously belonged there. 

“What kind of hierarchies do you have?” she wondered out loud. “I suppose there has to be some kind of leader or ruler, right?” 

“You're not wrong.”

However, he squinted his eyes at her. Cautious, it seemed like, because important information could always be used against him. Despite the palpable sincerity he recognized within her, the feelings she wore on her sleeve (as he had noticed in various stances when they saw each other), Rafayel was wary of her. A little. 

Deep down, he wanted to get rid of that feeling of fondness that spoke her name. He denied and refused it, hiding it in the shell of his heart. A heart that shall be firm and strong, for everyone's sake. He couldn't be the son of the Sea in her eyes, or else everything could be ruined. 

“However, you're far harsher with your titles of nobility,” he scoffed. 

With a sigh, she looked at the book in her lap. 

“There are a lot of issues, I have to admit. The children of nobility read of philosophers that believed in better worlds, but it seems futile on land. The classes are so carefully crafted, one cannot ever forget the birthmark of their social status. Is it like that amongst your kind as well?” 

Sincerity. He hated it. He despised the honesty dripping in her tone like the sweetest of corals. 

Staring at her for a little longer, he pondered on his answer. 

“Our communities are tightly holding onto each other. We're all one. There's not much regarding wealth.” 

“How come it feels like you know more about my world than I know about yours? Aren't you scared of being caught by the people if you poke too deep?”

With an incredulous chuckle, Rafayel ran a hand through his damp hair. 

“Princess, sailors of nobles come with books on their ships. We got our hands on plenty of information. You truly are cruel creatures.”

Eyes widening slightly, she seemed to put together the pieces. 

“Of course. No sailor can dive that deep into the waters, but it's easy to drown a ship. Genius,” she shook her head with a chuckle of her own. 

Rafayel blinked and all of a sudden. He seemed like a cute fish with big eyes. (Gosh, he was so cute at times.) Confusion written all over his face, he silently waited for an explanation behind her reaction. She should be mad at him, should curse him and, worst of them all, call for some other stupid humans to catch and torture him. 

The princess caught onto his reaction and all he received was a shrug. “I have heard of siren tails being cut off. My parents had received one as a gift on the 10th anniversary of their marriage.”

Rafayel felt rage curl around his throat like a vice. Gulping down, his eyes narrowed into slits as he tried not to snap at her. He wondered where her little speech will lead to. The neutral tone he was regarded with fueled the fire burning deep in his chest, beneath the same scales humans wished to pluck from his skin. 

“I've seen pearls that craftsmen claimed to be made of a mermaid's tears and I have watched the King's most trusted knight wield a sword adorned with sharp red scales. Drowning our ships is the least you can do to avenge your loved ones.” 

The merman was silent. As he continued to take her presence in and let the words sink in, Rafayel recognized a certain fear in the corners of her eyes. She gripped at her book, as if scared of what might happen to her for touching such a sensitive topic. 

Tilting her head forward, the princess didn't dare meet his eyes anymore. Guilty and a little scared, all she could do was wait. 

“It is the least we could do,” he hummed lowly, low as the thunder that booms in the sky. “We could've done much worse. At least we don't rape our prisoners and make slaves out of them.”

The truth felt venomous on the tip of his tongue and he meant it with his everything. The reality sunk deeper into her being and she nodded sadly. Wondering what could lead to such hatred between two rational species, she couldn't find an answer. (She was in no place to complain or act as a victim either, even if she could become one at any moment.) 

Snapping his head towards the sea, for the umpteenth time, Rafayel questioned his sanity for spending time with her — with a human. He questioned his loyalty and morals. For a moment, he hated himself for choosing to follow his curiosity and see this human, this woman—

When his eyes snapped back to her figure, he saw the same mournful expression on her face. She couldn't possibly know what it means to lose some of your own because of the selfish reasons of another. That's how humans are — always greedy. She couldn't fathom such a thing, not to the extent he did. 

However, something familiar was written on her face, something he's seen in his own reflection. 

“Human,” he murmured lowly. 

The princess raised her head with a hum. 

“Do you wear those cursed pearls? Do you wield those venomous weapons? Do you admire the tails that are hung like portraits?” 

Something within her chest curled and twisted like an animal, like his words had a life of their own and they twisted in her heart. And maybe they did, when her heart was too full with feelings of all sorts, when she wished things had been better. 

“I don't,” she whispered in a tight tone, never shifting her gaze from him, not this time. She hoped, deep down, that maybe his hatred would be quenched if she was to be harmed. 

A human. Stupid and egoistic. She hoped the lives that have been lost on land and in the sea would find peace. 

“Do you search for mermaids and mermen when you sail?”

“I don't.” 

With another huff, he looked away. Solemnly, he blinked at the still sea and gulped. 

“Have you ever done something to get a mermaid out of a human's hands?” 

“I have.”

That he hasn't expected. Once again, he was wary of her words, even if he couldn't sense any lies. 

“Then maybe you'll be able to change something,” Rafayel wondered out loud. 

Nothing was for sure. He didn't know if she would ever fall on the path of the ones who've raised her, filled with egoism. 

IV. 

She couldn't comprehend how she ended up glued to the merman she's been enamoured with. It was almost impossible, how fate turned her life upside down, how it brought Rafayel before her eyes and shifted the course of her future. 

(The young lady had stumbled with her heels in the sand while she had been complaining about politics in an animated voice.) 

He was even prettier from up-close, when she could admire the small scales on his cheekbone. They were barely visible and her fingers ached to touch. His usually pale skin was tinted pink on the sides and the tips of his ears were on fire. His calculated gaze had been long forgotten, instead replaced by the most adorable eyes she's ever seen — like a deer caught in the daylight. Long hair draped over the sand like a deep purple halo around his head; sometimes she remembered he was a siren, ethereal and out of this world. 

Both his arms were curled around her waist. His grip was unsure — did he want to push her away or bring her closer? He didn't know. 

What she didn't know was that her expression mirrored his. She was tense above him, as the material of her dress was absorbing the water on his body. Big, sweet eyes staring down at him while his heart threatened to burst. It swelled like a puffer fish, but it lacked poison. 

Rafayel has probably put a spell on her, since all rational thoughts have been washed away when her hand rose. With the tip of her fingers, she traced the tender scales on his face. Scared, absolutely terrified of hurting him, she almost flinched away at first. However, the merman didn't wince. His gaze softened and she could feel his body melt underneath her. 

“Isn't the dry sand uncomfortable on your back?” she asked in a voice as gentle as the sea breeze. 

All he did was shake his head. Stealing a glance at her hand, he looked at her expectantly. Touch me again. 

So she did. She cupped his cheek in her palm and caressed the soft, transparent scales on his cheek. Trailing her fingers down to his jaw, she leaned in closer. The tip of her nose pressed into his cheek and a smile bloomed on her lips. 

Who would've thought love feels so warm? Who would've thought that she'd ever melt in the arms of a man, a siren? 

Rafayel watched her with utmost interest. He knew she was smiling by the shift of her face so close to his and it only relaxed him further. He had to admit, the sand getting glued to his wet back was a little unpleasant, but he couldn't find it within himself to move. 

“Cutie, are you trying to reverse our roles and seduce me?” 

Her face turned red like a clown fish. Suddenly raising her head, she pressed her palms against the expanse of his bare chest. Frowning at him so cutely, Rafayel laughed with amusement. Throwing his head back as his shoulders shook with his laughter, he felt her halfheartedly hit his chest. 

“Rafayel! You're a menace,” came out her annoyed complaint. “You stupid fish.” 

“Smarter than you if I caught you with such a lame line.”

Of course he'd continue to tease her. Stupid fish. Gorgeous stupid fish. 

Her gaze shifted to his exposed neck and she finally got the chance to admire the carefully crafted scales on his neck. It looked similar to the gills of a fish and they seemed just as soft as the ones on his cheeks. 

He had a beautiful neck. 

The princess was ashamed of her own thoughts. With a huff, she hid her face into the crook of his neck. 

The merman's response was the shift of an arm that raised from her waist a little higher, until it was securely wrapped around her shoulders. Cold to the touch, he brought a pleasant chill down her spine when his fingers brushed over her nape, tangling in her hair. 

“Princess,” Rafayel hummed in a low, gentle tone. 

The lady in question didn't stir. She shifted above him, slipping her hands underneath his shoulder blades and holding tightly onto him. Her frown hasn't disappeared either. The merman could picture the pout on his princess’s adorable face. 

With a noncommittal hum, she responded. 

“Let me take a proper look at your face, cutie,” a sweet giggle escaped his lips. 

“You'll tease me,” she scoffed, words muffled against his skin. 

With a soft flinch, another giggle escaped him. Out of the blue, the alarmed lady above him raised her head. 

“Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to. Am I too—”

Rafayel pressed his palm against her lips to shut down her babbling. She was certain she'd never seen such a gentle expression on his face. 

“Your breath tickled me. I'm fine, pretty.” 

With a tiny relieved sigh, she continued to look into his eyes. The hand on her lips moved lower and cupped the side of her neck, thumb pressing against her pulse. Life thrummed right under the weight of his finger and it filled him with an ineffable sensation. Heat raised to her face once more, but she didn't shift her gaze away that time. 

She wanted to kiss him. But they knew what would happen then. They knew it'd bring a tragedy upon them. 

Against better judgment, her heart ached to press her lips against his skin, against anywhere she would be allowed. To run her fingers through his long hair. She ached to be closer, to feel his chest against hers, to get rid of her annoying dress—

“What's gotten you so flushed?” he arched an eyebrow at her. 

As if he didn't know. As if he didn't feel the love and the tension swirling in the air. 

“Your hand touched my lips…” she started in a small voice. “Does that mean I can— that I can kiss you? Like, anything but your lips?” 

Ashamed of her own question, she looked away. Rafayel felt her tense once again. Truth be told, if she paid enough attention, she'd see his widened eyes and the shock written on his face. 

Curiosity got the best of him. No, love did, bringing to life something he didn't know could take such violent forms. 

Something tugged painfully at his gut. 

“You wouldn't kiss my lips?” came out his whisper. 

“Are you insane?!” she snapped her head towards him. Wearing a frown, she gulped. “Of course not, Rafayel. I don't want you to disappear and I don't want you to suffer. Why would I kiss you if it was to hurt you?”

“Even if I wanted you to kiss me?” 

The vulnerability in his tone put out some flames in her heart. 

“You are, indeed, a stupid fish,” she clicked her tongue. “I wouldn't. You must have a very bad impression of me if you think I take your presence for granted—”

Her rambling had been stopped by the press of his lips against her neck. Yelping, her nails sank into his shoulders. Rafayel felt her shudder as a certain satisfaction coiled in his stomach. Her open mouth made space for a heavy breath. The merman licked at her pulse with the tip of his tongue and groaned. That beautiful scent of hers was on his tongue and he wanted nothing more than to take and take and take. 

The poor heart in between her ribs was going to jump into the sea if he kept it up like that. 

“Does that answer your question?”

“Ra— Rafayel,” she whined. 

Moving his head away, he got the chance to admire the blush on her cheeks and her tightly squeezed eyes. He could see the parting of her lips, but his soul had already chosen her. 

And he couldn't go against her wish, could he? No, that would curse him for the rest of his lives. 

“I wish I thought that way about you,” he admitted in a shameful voice. That brought her attention to him. “But I don't. I can see that you care, cutie.” 

“That's good,” she hummed as a smile curled onto her lips. “I wouldn't want you to believe anything else. Because I do care, Rafayel. I want you to know that, always.”

Always. Because her love was full of shifts, but it always kept on growing, it turned into a berserk beast-like creature who chewed onto anything that threatened to hurt what she loved. 

Despite the fact that later that night, after they had parted ways, her parents will have an “important” conversation about her future husband. Despite it all, she loves him and she knows. Even as she cries with her face in her palms, she knows her love is there. Even when her hand runs down her neck, where his lips had touched her, she's wholeheartedly aware of her doom. 

V. 

“Do you want to come in the water with me?” 

Once again, he emerged from the sea with a grin on his face. He's been watching her eye him, the way he swam, the way he seemed so at peace with everything. Rafayel seemed so happy, floating at the surface of the sea. 

However, she felt stuck there, on the sand. Fingers curled into the material of her own dress as she looked at him with a frown and a small pout. 

“You're sulking,” he taunted her. Such an annoying fish. 

“I'm not,” she huffed, turning her head to the side. 

From behind the huge stones where they were, she could only see the tower of her family’s palace. They had forbidden her from going in the water again, but that wasn't the same, was it? It would be a small trip, close to the shoreline, safe… 

Safe. She would expect Rafayel to make sure she doesn't drown. Uncertainty gnawed at her heart. 

The grip she had on her dress loosened. The light pink material curled in the breeze at her ankles and she sighed heavily. 

“Cutie?”

This time, he was closer. Weight settled on the hands in the sand, he tilted his head to the side with a little frown. If she didn't know any better, she'd believe that was worry. Maybe it really was. 

The princess had told her parents that it didn't matter, that the incident didn't change her relationship with the sea, the fondness she had whenever she was on water. However, in there was nestled a lie — a part of her was scared. Scared that a sudden storm might appear out of the blue, scared that something would be wrong with the ship, scared that the Gods won't be mercy and second time. Scared that there won't be Rafayel next time. 

“You seem unsure.” It was, probably, the first time he's ever spoken so softly, so patiently. “But the Sea doesn't want revenge. It is us who do. She's benevolent.” 

Rolling over, he sat on the sand and patted the place next to him. Without much thought, she settled next to him, knees pulled close to her chest. The dress raised up her calf a little, exposing her skin to the cool breeze. 

“She nudged me to get you out of the water,” Rafayel hummed dreamily. He continued to look at her profile. “She wanted to save you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had a reason to save you.” 

It was his honesty that made the young lady turn her head to him. Curiousity sparkled in her eyes, and as their gazes met, fire burnt in between them. Slowly, steady, like the flame of a candle. 

“This time, however, I want you in the water. And I'll make sure you're alright. Also, it would be sad for you to lose your trust in Her.” 

The princess blinked. 

“Is She… like a God to you?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. “Sometimes She's merciful because you pay Her respects. However, She's at Her worst when humans harm one of our own. We're Her children.” 

She nodded at him. A comfortable feeling washed over her. So She was like a Mother to them. Of course She'd seek vengeance once in a while, when Her kids are harmed. 

Rafayel pushed herself back in the water, extending his hand towards her. 

“I'll hold your hand.”

Sirens lure in humans and make them drown. They bewitch men and women alike with the sole reason to kill them. They're merciless and angry, always greedy to take one more life. Never trust someone who has claimed to live in the sea, for that is the home of monstrous creatures. 

However, the merman before her eyes smiled sincerely at her, still waiting. Truth be told, she couldn't deny the magic of his words, of his presence. Something within her wished to see his long purple hair flow in the water like seaweed. She wanted to see him in all his glory, in the sea, happy and at peace. 

Against better judgement, she took his hand. Standing up, she slowly walked into the sea, her feet sinking in the sand. One hand gripping at her skirt, she raised its hem at the front and walked with Rafayel as he swam. It reached her ankles, then her calf and her knees. By that point, holding her skirt up was to no use, so she let go of it. 

If she returns back home and the dress is still soaking wet, her parents won't even let her get out of her chambers. But, she continued to walk deeper into the water, hand in hand with the merman. 

Until the water reached her waist and she held her breath at the cold pricking at her skin. Gulping, she hasn't realized just how fast her heart beat, how her hands trembled. Rafayel took her other hand in his. He stopped her there, waiting. 

“Everything alright?” he hummed. 

Raising her gaze to his, she breathed in deeply. 

The weather was good, it was the kind of weather sailors would thank the skies for. A few fluffy clouds floated far above the land and the water was calm. 

The princess gripped tighter onto his hands. With a nod, she felt the fear being washed away. Instead, the hollow in her chest was filled with excitement. 

“It seems like a yes,” the merman chuckled. 

The young lady let go of his hands, only to step closer to him and curl her fingers around his forearms. A warm touch, reassuring and so endearing. Rafayel felt the air get knocked out of his chest at that tender touch. 

“Can we go a little further?”

“Wherever you want, princess.”

And just like that, he guided her deeper and deeper into the water. At some point, he curled his arms around her waist and placed her arms around his neck. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked the moment a flicker of uncertainty flashed in her eyes. 

“I do,” came her immediate response. 

“Then hold onto me.” 

She did. The princess caressed his silky hair and got closer, their chests glued together. It lacked manners and courtesy, it lacked modesty, her wet clothes leaving little to the imagination. She could feel his body, every curve, every lean muscle. A light blush took over her cheeks, but happiness overturned the embarrassment.

She was in the sea. Swimming, almost, both of Rafayel's arms curled around her waist. He admired her like a precious gem, keeping her close, the warmth of her body seeping into his skin. 

“You're so beautiful like this,” he smiled gently. “Happy.”

He watched those beautiful eyes stare up at him with wonder and fire, face lit up with joy. She raised one of her hands to get the damp bangs out of his eyes, caressing his cheek in the process. Her hand settled on his neck and he shuddered at the touch. The scales on his neck were soft and ticklish, but he relished in the sensation. Rafayel leaned in, his forehead falling on her shoulder as he held her in his arms. 

Under the water, his tail flicked gently, keeping them at the surface. The merman stopped moving when she wrapped her arms better around his shoulders, leaving a gentle kiss behind his ear. There was a light scar there — she stared at it with worry. Without a second thought, she left another kiss. Rafayel squeezed her closer in their embrace. 

“I hope… I hope you feel it. My affection.”

Despite the innocence of her words, a slight blush creeped up her cheeks. The tips of his ears turned red. The tenderness didn't leave enough space for embarrassment. 

“All of it, princess,” he exhaled against her shoulder, his hot breath hitting her collarbone. 

One of his hands splayed over her shoulder blades, keeping her near. It wasn't a prison if she wanted to be there. 

Rafayel rubbed his nose against the base of her neck and her pulse quickened. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink in that scorching feeling. 

VI. 

Her heart ached. Her soul shook with pain and her body trembled with anger. 

Her nineteenth birthday ceremony was supposed to be a thrilling event. To bring a smile on her face, a chance for her to forget a little about her duties and get some rest. Of course, a princess was always pampered, but she never took it for granted — thankfully, her parents had been down to earth and had taught her well. 

However, there was one thing they completely failed at, and that was letting their daughter be free. Not because she'd give up on her duties, but because she was a daughter before being a princess. 

Or so she hoped. The reality was that she's never been just a child, just a lady, but always a princess. A role, a pawn. A gift wrapped in the skin of a woman, because someone will inevitably take her hand and that someone will not be the one she loves. 

“Your father and I had to learn how to love each other as well, dear. There's no running from your fate and purpose. You can't be that selfish, can you?” her mother had kissed her cheek in the morning. 

A tear slipped down her cheeks, but there was no one to wipe it off. 

“Eric is a devoted prince and he's been trying to court you for the past month. Today is your birthday and he will attend this special event. It is time that you marry someone and I wholeheartedly believe he is the best option out there,” her father had reassured her in a firm tone.

Her heart clenched, but there was no one to hold her. 

“If you find another gentleman that suits your tastes better, we will not stop you. But, please, my dear, today is the day that you choose someone to spend the rest of your life with,” her mother had tried to soothe her. 

Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, because she ached for the time to pass by faster so she could see Rafayel. 

Eric had proven himself to be a true gentleman, charming even. He had kissed her hand with a polite bow and had bathed her in tender compliments. Just a few years older, he was mature and understanding. Patient and calm (and it didn't feel like a facade at all), his gift had been the most… gruesome of them all. Supposedly beautiful, but tragic. 

When he opened the small purple box, the princess was greeted by the most mesmerizing and well crafted necklace she's ever seen. However, horror struck her when her eyes laid upon the purple scale that shone in the lights of the ballroom. 

“It's a mermaid's.” 

It was astonishing how similar that color was to Rafayel's scales. 

Right then and there, she wanted to cry. She wanted to sink to her knees and wail, wished for that palace to crumble down into pieces. The young lady had rarely ever felt such pain, such grief pierce through her chest like a poisoned sword. 

She locked eyes with her parents. Her mother smiled and silently ushered her to accept the gift. 

“I have never seen such beautiful jewelry,” she lied through her teeth as she took the gift from his hand. (Their fingers touched and an uncomfortable shiver ran down her arms.) “I promise to treasure it. If it isn't too rude of me to say, I'd like to wear the jewelry my mother had gifted me tonight.” 

An easy excuse. He didn't bat an eye, no one did. 

*** 

Tears fell down her cheeks as she ran out of the palace. Most of the knights were busy at the gates; some of them were already drunk on rich wine. 

Stumbling on the dry sand in the dead of the night, she slipped out of her heels and rushed to the shoreline. Sobs got caught in her throat every time she breathed into the cold air. It bit at her skin, the thin silky dress on her doing nothing to hide her from the cold, but she cared not. Rushing behind the palace, next to the enormous rocks she always hid behind when she was meeting Rafayel, the young lady cursed her life. 

As expected, a special someone was basking in the light of the moon, in the flicker of the stars above. The night before she had told him she would be late to their usual meeting because of the ceremony and he had promised to wait for her. 

“Rafayel!” alarmed, she spoke his name. 

As he sat on the sand, the merman's head snapped to her and the wide smile on his lips shattered when he saw the tears on her cheeks, when he read the distress on her face. 

“My love, what happened?” 

Extending an arm towards her, he was delighted to feel the warmth of her hand against his. Before he could process it, she dropped into his embrace and curled her arms around his bare waist. 

“Cutie,” he whispered in a honeyed tone. Rafayel ran a hand over her back — it was bare as the dress exposed her soft skin. “I'm right here. I told you I'm stronger than the sailors, haven't I?” 

Dread rushed through his veins at his lover's display of vulnerability. Who could've brought her in such a state? What could've made her sob like that against his chest, what could've caused her such pain? 

“Rafayel,” she had whispered his name once more, voice cracking. 

The merman held her a little tighter as he kissed her forehead. With nimble fingers, he took off the intricate jewelry in her hair and laid them down. All of that just so he could run a hand through her hair, so he could feel her beneath his touch, so he could breathe her in. 

Her silent sobs came to a stop and only then had he cupped her face in his palms, raising her head. Beautiful glassy eyes looked at him with a sadness so deep, so intense it cut through his heart, the heart engraved with her name on it. 

“How come this beautiful birthday girl is crying, hm? What happened?” A soft tone that hid another million questions, a gentleness that disguised the heavy violence he was ready to inflict upon anyone that had brought her to such a state. 

Rafayel was not a forgiving creature. No, he never forgot and he rarely ever forgave, because there's no place for forgiveness when someone so loved by him is involved. Where there's hatred, there will be love, and where there's love, there's violence. 

“I have to get married,” she whispered. 

Fear cursed through her veins. Will he let go? Will he leave and go back to the sea, will he deprive her of his soothing touch, of his loving kisses? 

Rafayel hummed, lips pulled in a tight line. With a slight frown, he took a deep breath. His touch never wavered. (His love was stronger than a frivolous decision.) 

“You've always known you'd have to, didn't you?” 

“I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to deceive you, I only meant to—”

“To love me?” Such a soft voice, such a beautiful word. 

Tears threatened to spill over again. Her nails left faint scratches against his pale skin, her body growing rigid beneath his hands. 

“Yes,” she breathed out. 

“I know.” 

He knows. He knew there hadn't been any malicious intent behind her actions, he knew she'd kissed him with the hope of never having to let go, he knew she loves him. Loves. When they had kissed, when they were holding at that very moment, when they would kiss for the last time. 

“You've said it dozens of times,” he brushed his thumb over her quivering chin. “Even when your lips didn't open, you've said it. When you kissed me, when you held me, when you cried with the fear of losing me.”

The princess's eyes widened in surprise. How could he—

“Whatever you feel when you think of me, I know it. I feel it too.” 

Rafayel took one of her hands in his own and placed it on his chest, over his heart. It was beating wildly in the cage of his ribs, it beat with the love he harbored for her, it beat with devotion and intensity. 

“That's how mermaids are. So when I tell you that I love you, it means you're the only one I've ever loved like this, it means I'll love you in every life to come. It means that my heart is forever yours, my princess.” 

Her eyes glistened. Watching his gaze get watery, she pressed her palm against his chest and leaned in, so that her forehead was glued to his. 

The Sea shook and its waves started to get violent. It hungrily lapped at the hem of her dress, at his tail. It was cold, but the warmth radiating between the two of them was enough. Rafayel held her against him, his grip secure and firm, unwavering. 

The stars dimmed a little, as if they, too, had teared up. 

VII. 

“You will marry this man!” 

The argument arised for the hundredth time. Her mother was exasperated because of her daughter's whims, as she's called them. 

“I don't find anything in him, mother,” the young lady almost whimpered. 

Her voice cracked at the mere thought of it, of having to let go of her merman and fall into another man's bedding—

No. Absolutely not. 

“You'll have to find something,” her mother's tone softened at the edges. 

The poor woman felt like she'd aged decades in the span of a few days, as she watched her daughter isolate herself more and more, always daydreaming, staring out the window and the mesmerizing sea. 

“Is there anything we can do to convince you? You are nineteen, my dear. You must marry, it's already—”

“The sea.”

The woman blinked. Her face hardened. 

“No. You know what happened last time.”

“Then I'm not marrying anyone.” Her daughter was not relenting. 

The air was tense. Her mother's hands trembled and she sat at the edge of the bed, sluggish. 

She had watched her husband come back from the sea without their daughter and the world had crumbled before her eyes. How could she allow such a thing to happen again? 

“Mother,” the princess pleaded. “One last time on the sea. And I promise, I'll marry anyone. Just one last time.” 

Because if they dared tie her down to a man on land, they'd strip her of her freedom to go on sea. They'd take away her life, they'd take away her air, they'd take away her lover. 

The queen curled her fingers into her lap. What could she do? 

“Fine. I'll… I'll talk with your father.”

***

“Rafayel,” she whispered, voice hoarse. 

“I'm here,” the siren hummed. 

He cupped her cheek with his cold palm and she closed her eyes. The color in her eyes had dimmed and he gulped down, watching as life slowly faded out of her. Slow, agonizing — with a wince, she gasped. 

The pain in her stomach won't stop anytime soon and they knew. She was bleeding, the lilac nuances of her dress tainted dark. The piece of wood was stuck in her flesh and Rafayel was too scared of hurting her. He didn't try to get it out, for she would bleed even heavier. 

Rafayel pressed his forehead against hers, his hair draping over the sides of their faces like a silky curtain. All he could see was her — and she wouldn't have it any other way. 

“You were a fool,” he scolded her in a pained tone. Anger slipped through. “I told you there would be a storm today.” 

“I know,” she smiled lovingly. 

It struck him. She did it and took full advantage of the information. What she's done—

A desperate plea, that's what her name sounded like from his lips. 

“You could've lived,” he hissed. 

“I would've died sooner or later,” she shook her head. 

“Marriage, that's all. Just on paper, if you were lucky, no expectations added.”

“That was just a dream, Raf,” she gulped, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“You would've lived.” This time, it came out like a sob. 

His pained expression mirrored hers. Tears burnt behind his eyes. She felt a tiny, round object fall on her cheek and roll down into the sand. 

“No, no.”

With all the strength she could muster, she cupped his face in her palms and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. It was warm, and Rafayel had decided to let the warmth of her last moments be his doom. Resting his weight on his elbows, he placed one of his hands over hers, pressing her palm deeper into his skin. Tears that started out as droplets and quickly turned into pearls. 

They slipped through her fingertips. Some of them fell on her neck, others in the sand. 

“My love,” she stroked the skin under his eyes. “Don't cry.”

“You're dying,” and he's rarely ever sounded so revolted. The pink and purple in his eyes burnt — tears set aflame. 

“I'm sorry,” she bit onto her lower lip. 

He was panting heavily above her, shock coloring his features. Whenever he stared at the wound in her abdomen, he wanted to vomit. 

“Please, Sea Goddess, please do something,” he prayed in an ancient language. “I'll do anything, so please.” 

The princess couldn't do anything, except for watching her lover cry pearls. It hurt, the pain in her chest surpassing the one in stomach. 

The storm hadn't stopped; it got worse, rain pouring down heavily over Rafayel's back as he guarded her from the rainfall. So strong it could've wiped away the tattoos on his skin, was he not a child of the Sea. Thunder shook the ground. She pressed her fingers against his cheeks as her head throbbed. 

It didn't stop. Nothing had stopped; her bleeding, the rain, the pain in his throat and chest. It hurt and he wanted to turn back the time, back when he had decided to meet her again, so he could have avoided this tragedy. But he couldn't, not now, and not ever. 

The tip of his nose touched hers as he leaned in closer. The gesture sank slowly in the princess's tired mind. She turned her head to the side fast enough to avoid his lips. 

“What’re you doing?” she heaved. 

She didn't even dare look him in the eyes, gulping as she spoke. Rafayel didn't move away, tapping her cheek lightly. 

“I told you, didn't I? If I choose to love you once, I love you forever. And I'd rather die now, than by sorrow in a few weeks.” 

“Rafayel, what are you saying?” Oh, Gods, she wished so badly she could cry, but it hurt so much. 

“Sirens love once, my dear. Once for life.”

“Dying by sorrow,” she gasped. “What do you mean?”

“I won't make it past the second week after you pass away.”

It was weak, but she mustered the strength to hit his shoulder. Her stomach turned with pain, and the cries building up her throat tensed her muscles. A pained cry ripped from her mouth. 

“And you dare tell me now!?” 

Tensing, she groaned in pain. Clutching tightly onto his shoulder, she squirmed in pain. It hurt. It hurt so much. 

“Rafayel, please tell me you're lying.” A sob. 

She turned her head towards him again. His eyes only held pain. Another pearl slipped from between his eyelashes and rolled on the sand. 

“No,” she cried again. Sinking her nails in his shoulder, she left behind red scars. 

Red like the blood on her dress. Red like his love. 

Her other hand slid from his cheek to the back of his neck, curling into the strands of hair. Chest burning, body aching, something within her broke, right then and there. No amount of tears and rain could glue it back together. But it hurt Rafayel to watch her, so he kissed away the tears on her cheeks, breathing in her washed out perfume. 

“It wasn't your fault to begin with,” he reassured in a soft tone. “I promise.”

“No, no, it is,” she choked on her own words. 

Gently, he hushed. 

“It won't hurt for much longer. I know.”

The Sea had bonded them together since the first time he had accepted her in his heart. Rafayel kissed her temple with a soft hum in his throat. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

His fingers curled in the sand, a pained sound ripping from his throat. At that very moment, his heart beat solely for those words. 

“Me too, lovely,” he pulled his lips in a thin line. “I love you too. You have no idea, do you?” 

With a gentle touch, he took one of her hands in his and leaned over again. That time, however, she didn't budge. Her gaze was torn between his lips and his red-shot eyes. 

“I'm sorry, Rafayel.”

“I'll curse this damned world to the ground,” came back his sour response. “May it burn. May no one ever know piece, may this storm never stop. May they never be happy.” 

With a soft shake of her head, she closed her eyes. Her tears blended with the droplets of water running down his hair. 

The siren hadn't stopped. He held her as close as he could, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“May the Sea never grant anyone mercy again, never again, my love. For as long as there's a drop of water in this world, they will know pain greater than their bodies can contain, greater than their hearts can handle. May the world never forget the pain, may it be branded in their very beings. May it haunt them and their graves.”

Raising his head once again, he smiled sadly. 

“May each one of them hurt the same way we are hurting right now and a thousand times more.” 

Against better judgment, she understood. At that time, she understood what it meant to lose something greater than you can handle. She was not only losing him and her own very life, but the hope she had. All of it, dead, burnt. The hope of a better future was withering. (And it shall wither forever.)  

“May they hurt,” she continued in a soft voice. “For I have loved you.” 

“And I'll love you even in the times to come.”

When their lips touched, the world had stopped spinning for a moment. A gentle touch, soft like a feather, tears mixing together, love pouring down in waves. It didn't soothe away the pain; no, it ached and throbbed, but their heart still beat for one more time. 

One more time before his body began to twist and turn into seafoam, one more time before her eyes would never open up again. 

One last breath, shared with a sour smile. Foam sank in the material of her dress, but the Sea refused to let that corpse be seen by the humans, even if it was theirs to witness. With a powerful wave, She took her body away into the depths of the water. 

No amount of redemption could ever cure this mistake. 

For once, the Sea listened to Rafayel's prayers. She listened and granted his venomous wish. She understood his grief and deemed the curse as worthy to take care of — a curse that shall haunt everything and everyone. 

And the world has destroyed a chance for peace once again. They have unknowingly killed it, amongst the tears of a hopeful human and the bubbles of a siren's corpse. They have lost their chance for peace in between the lips of two lovers. 

And the lovers? Despite being filled with worries, their ghosts shall dance on the surface of the sea ‘till the world will meet its doom and a little more. 

“So you dare tease me and now,” Zayne's voice snapped her back to reality, “you think you make the rules?”

“What the hell do you—” her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Cold tendrils of icy plants erupted from the wall her back was glued to. They curled around both her wrists and brought her hands above her head, leaving her helpless. Her eyes widened in shock and arousal. Fuck, she might be getting wetter, if that was even possible.

Enticing green eyes peered up at her. Unforgiving, intense, his usual cold demeanor thrown into the snow outside that tower. It was exchanged for the passion swirling in his hungry gaze. The bright brown in his eyes sparkled so beautifully, lust clouding his judgment.

“When you fall apart, I want you to look up and make the Gods jealous of this,” he breathed over her exposed thigh. "Jealous of us."

“What?” she gulped down. “That's blasphemy—”

“I didn't take you for the religious type,” he cocked an eyebrow at her.

Zayne sat on one knee in front of her and his wide shoulders were the sole reason why she hasn't fallen yet. His wide shoulders and unmistaken determination to utterly ruin her.

“Whoever's up there, they're definitely insane for letting such lust walk around freely in this sacred tower," she huffed halfheartedly.

“She did it to herself,” Zayne scoffed.

Who was this man and what happened to the worshipper of Astra, with the Foreseer that had been damned to never leave the Tower? What happened with the nonchalant Zayne that forbade her from leaving with the jasmine on top of the tower blooms?

It was a mistake to look down at him. His teeth caught onto the glove on his fingers and ripped it off his hand in a smooth motion. All of that while he never broke eye contact with the woman glued to him, whose pupils were dilated.

His mouth latched onto her clit once again. All she could do was writhe in his hold and curl her fingers into fists above her head.

“Zayne—” she whimpered.

It only spurred him on. The assault on her sensitive clit stopped for a second only. In no time, he traced the cold tips of fingers in between her folds, watching her stomach clench and twist. Her thighs squeezed a little around his head.

“You're mesmerizing,” but the compliment fell into deaf ears, pleasure overtaking her senses.

He tasted her in a long, deliberate lick, just to press the tip of his tongue against her bundle of nerves. At the very same time, two of his fingers entered her heated core effortlessly. She spasmed around him and grinded her hips against his mouth like the greedy little thing that she was, mouth opened agape.

Zayne had never thought he'd fall in love with such a sight. The person he treasured most squirming with hot pleasure in his hold, tears wetting her eyelashes. Her tight shirt unbuttoned, the change of temperature hardening her nipples through the thin material of her bra. The expanse of her neck adorned with love bites, red and purple, running down to her collarbones.

She wasn't just beautiful, she was a piece of art, the most gorgeous sculpture he's laid eyes on. And she was alive, breathing his name in sinful sighs.

Zayne groaned against her, kissing her inner thigh as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Watching the angel in his arms lose her mind from pleasure, having been blessed with enough luck to watch her fall apart, he suddenly didn't want to leave that Tower of it means having her glued to the wall as she moans his name.

With a curl of his fingers, her thighs pressed harder against his shoulders. Head falling forward, another moan of his name left her parted lips.

“Zayne,” she breathed out heavily.

He hummed against her clit, watching her with utmost interest. The sparkle in his eyes reminded her of the earlier demand.

Look up and make Astra jealous.

And that's exactly what she did. When he grazed her clit with his teeth, she threw her head back as tears clung to her eyelashes. A roll of her hips, another curl of his fingers and she was gone, a stuttering mess above him. Legs shaking and hands straining against the ice around her wrists, she moaned his name. The coil in her stomach snapped — all she could feel were the shivers and pleasure running through her veins at a rapid pace.

Zayne helped her ride her high. Fingers still inside of her, he left soft kisses over her inner thigh, nuzzling into the warm flesh with a pleased hum. The pants were an uncomfortable restraint for his boner, but he couldn't be bothered to rush just yet.

“Good girl,” his gentle praise reverberated in the depths of his chest.

His lover panted as she looked down at him with glossy eyes, still filled with unspoken desires.

Mesmerizing. Zayne could never get tired of that look on her face, not in a thousand lifetimes.

A/N: Truth be told, I have my own practices and religious beliefs. However, solely taking into account the lads universe, the only God we know is Astra — and I'll be damned not to admit how hot that scene was. Because it is absolute blasphemy, it really is, but this universe got to the point where it is hard not to have beef with its very God. Astra is fictional — please take that into account, because I'm not throwing this at any deity in real life. I am respectful and amazed by the religions in our world and I admire all cultures — I wanted to clear that up. ALSO, I WANTED TO SAY I FIND IT VERY HOT. A believer of Astra worshipping another in that tower, after Astra had cursed him 😫 it's so fucking erotic. Forcefully braking the chains between him and a jealous God, taunting Astra because he's down BAD.

There were times when she would gently pull away, with an apologetic smile. Other times, she would run into his arms and tell him a silly story she's heard from Tara. Sometimes, she stole some bland joke from her ‘doctor friend’ and all he could do was bend over and ruffle her hair, receiving a shy scoff in exchange.

And there were times like that, when she didn't know what to pick, when it took time for her to settle for the idea of affection. A silent form of love. Caressing his pale fingers, she traced small lines, just like she did when she painted with the orange juice over his cheeks.

“You seem to be deep in thought,” he hummed.

Sylus didn't dare raise his voice above a whisper, almost worried any loud noise would break that gentle spell that's been put over them. A spell they had allowed.

Her gaze didn't meet his. Instead, she opted for staring at their hands as she settled her palm over his knuckles. Sylus felt his heart swell in his chest.

“Sylus.” She squeezed his hand gently.

Silence. For a few more minutes, there was silence. It was calm, like a warm weighted blanket that covered the both of them comfortably. Despite not being a sleeper during the night, Sylus’s schedule had shifted a little for the day. Moving an arm under his head, he closed his eyes. The more he listened to her quiet breathing, he felt himself getting pulled in the embrace of sleep. Slowly, a pull as gentle as her touch.

When her hand moved, his eyes shot open. This time, his gaze met hers. Only then he realized that her hand didn't move away, but rather shifted so she could intertwine their fingers.

Baby steps, one at a time. Like always. He's gotten used to her tentative touches, but he wasn't exactly sure if he's ever seen such a vulnerable look in her eyes before. Willingly vulnerable, because he'd disturbed her peace the first time they met.

What an idiot he's been. He regrets it every single day and night.

“Sweetie,” he breathed out. “Your thoughts are very loud.”

“What are they saying?” A soft voice, barely there.

“I can't quite make sense of them. They're all so loud.” It sounded like a low hum as he pushed her to tell him more. “Help me decipher them?”

A question, because a request sounded like too much. Sylus felt his heart ache in his chest, squeezing painfully between his ribs. Threatening to burst and have blood drip through his bones.

“I'm glad we're here.” A shy, weak smile adorned her beautiful lips. “I'm glad I'm here with you.”

The admission pushed Sylus to squeeze her hand.

“We are. And we'll come back whenever you want. Or go somewhere else. I'm sure you could use some relaxing days from time to time, Miss Hunter.”

“Only if we're together.”

‘It's never boring when I'm with you’, ‘I'll go anywhere for as long as there's you’, ‘You've given me memories to last a lifetime.’ — usually, she was at the receiving end of such statements.

Sylus found himself a little breathless, a tiny bit frozen at that moment. His heart was finally beating with its full power, like never before, beating and begging to lay between her ribs instead.

“Did you know you've brought me back my sleep?”

“Was I so scary that even sleep ran to hide behind you?”

A small, harmless joke. It made her smile brighter.

“Actually, you're the opposite. I started feeling so safe I can finally rest properly again.”

With a gulp, Sylus found it impossible to swallow down the lump in his throat. From all things, he hadn't expected to hear that out loud, for her to say it so openly.

“It was hard at first. I didn't get a wink of sleep during the first day in N109 Zone. When I started trusting you, I couldn't find a way to wake up.” A soft chuckle escaped her lips, a little shy.

A detail he hasn't been aware of, truly. Of course, he had seen the dark circles under her eyes, mirroring his own, but he didn't know why they had slowly faded, why she started to sleep better. He supposed the nightmares just came to a stop at some point, that they were less frequent.

There she was, telling him he's been her sleeping pill lately.

“Why are you telling me this, kitten?”

Her hand left his and she intended to place her palm against his chest, to seek his warmth, more of—

Abruptly, she stopped and thought over the idea. Gulping, she intertwined their fingers again and brought his hand closer to her chest instead.

“Can I fall asleep on your shoulder?”

If he hadn't been so close, he wouldn't have been able to hear her. His expression softened and he removed his hand from under his head, extending his arm.

“You didn't even have to ask.”

Moving closer to him, she could feel his breath against her forehead. She placed her head on his upper arm and nuzzled into his shoulder. His fingers were still trapped between her own, her heart thumping steadily against the back of his hand.

“Good night.”

Sylus kissed the top of her head. “Good night, my beloved.”