#sephares

His eyes were wide open. He gasped for a second, looking at the ceiling of his personal room, looking around, searching for that face, that touch, that voice.

But she wasn't there… No one was there but him. It was a dream…no, not a dream, a vision. The angel passed his hand on his face, breathing deeply the scents around himself, recognizing the few petals in the corner, the oils and balms on his skin, the candles on the walls…and something else.

He started to sniff, moving around, then his sense pointed to his hands, to his clothes, and…a new smell…her smell.

A vision so strong that it could even leave a trace in the material world? No, that couldn't be possible; what he saw was an event from the future about someone that he had never known, but…

Why did his heart still beat thinking about those touches? And why did he wish that face didn't disappear at all?

///

When he opened up his eye, Sephares felt his back still hurting from the previous night. His dark brown hair was spread like a halo on the pillows of his quarter, the lights still warm and morbid for the resting hours of the angels. It was still early, and he was still tired.

He moved his arms, searching for something around him, and started to panic when he realized that he was utterly alone in the bed.

"An incinerator fire that consumes soul and body… You feel like this with me?"

He looked up; you were sitting on his chair, the blanket covered only the southern part of your body, exposing your chest and the so many bites that he had inflicted once and in the previous hours. The majority of them covered your neck and wrist, but the bolder ones were on the chest and breasts, especially closer to the areola. He sighed in relief, a hand removed some unruly hair from his face while looking at your relaxed pose, one leg closer to your chest while the other swung lazily thanks to the height difference between a baseline and an astarte. How he wished to be good at drawing; he would have loved to have one of you with him like this. For now, you suited yourself with his poor poetry.

"It's not finished."

"Well, you certainly improved! I must say, you're quite good with words."

"I got some help." He looked at you with that cocky smile of his.

Your cheek turned red by that look, so you dragged yourself back to him, allowing yourself to receive more of his kisses and caresses from his hands. He held your face closer, trying to pull you closer while his tongue started to caress your lips to grant access. To believe that you had taught him how to do it, he was quite the scholar indeed. You retracted, your fingers on his lips to create a barrier.

"Sephares, I need to go…"

"Stay a little longer, my flame; I desire you again…"

"You had me for hours, my love, and you'll have me later as well… but now…" You rose, collecting your uniform from the serf staff. "I need to go and prepare you and your brothers' food!"

He groaned, remembering that, despite the fact that he was maddeningly in love with you, you were still one of the lower kinds of staff on their flagship. It wasn't forbidden, a relationship like yours; his squad was fully aware of you two together. The problem was the higher status, such as his captain or even the first Captain Raldoron. A few of your friends knew about it and even sighed, envying that an angel had blessed you with his love, but all of them were too smart to let the thing slip from their mouths.

Sephares wondered sometimes if he did the right thing by allowing himself to fall in love, to keep you closer than he could… to trust you with the truth. Your uniform consists of long sleeves and a high neck; no eyes would ever notice the signs from his bites and the small cuts you had inflicted upon yourself to give him enough to not succumb. That you knew was the secret of him and you alone.

Every time he drank from you, it was always enough to not kill you, yet enough to never succumb to his gene flaws, even if he knew that day would never come.

He was fixing his augmentic on his missing eye when he smelled that intoxicating smell again, noticing then your hand squeezing out from another cut some blood to refill his small vial.

"My love, no," he said, almost apologetic. "I've already taken too much from you; I don't need—"

"It's all right, Sephares." You said, "Securing the cap over the vial." "It's just for safety. I know you won't need me until your next battle, but I refuse to let you go without knowing you'll be okay."

He smiled with a hint of worry, seeing your slow movement to save the energy for your work. It wounded his heart knowing that you were there giving him so much and the only thing he could give you was just his love and his rations of meat that he was able to sneak in for you. Drinking from you wasn't daily, but the fear of seeing you collapse because he couldn't control himself was his nightmare.

Once you finished fixing your robes, you took the chance to put the vial on the cord around his neck and gently pressed your lips back to him.

"See you later, my angel…"

"I love you, my flame…"

The door closed with a silent swish, leaving him alone to hug the cover that still smelled like you.

///

"My Lord, is something troubling you?"

Sanguinius shook his head, waking up from a deep sleep. thought he had just a few seconds ago. His perfect smile graced his features as he dismissively shook his hand.

"Oh, forgive me, Raldoron, I had…" He inhaled the same scent, impregnated in his hair. "I had trouble sleeping."

He kept telling himself to keep it together, that it was improper and out of place for him, but that dream seemed to have decided to haunt him during his waking hours too. He tried to focus on his duties, but every time he tried to concentrate, his kind gaze went back to that precious vision. Those eyes so sad and full of love, that adoration…

That woman… Why was he there to heal his pain? What pain even?

She seemed in pain too… Why? What would have wounded him and her in such a way as to seek comfort in each other?

He could only keep his eyes glued on the statistics, alarming his closer men with his curious attitude.

When those excruciating hours ended, he could finally rise from his seat and try to head for his quarters.

"I need to rest. I wish to not see anyone else unless serious matters arise."

He really didn't want to attend more meetings; it would have been futile, especially since his mind was somewhere else or on someone else.

Who was she? Someone he met and then forgot? Someone he was meant to meet and create a bond with? And why did his body react like it was on fire when he remembered that face? That perfect face—he swore he could touch it if he had raised his hand enough.

He walked slowly, ignoring the greetings and the bows, ignoring everything while his mind wandered, searching every possible explanation. It was frustrating; he knew she was real, he was sure, but he had no idea where or how to find her…or why he wanted to find her. She was just a baseline; he had no claim against her, especially for his nature. He had no right to claim someone that was meant to disappear like sand in his fingers; there was no way that this was supposed to happen.

Deep in his thoughts, he kept on walking, now completely absorbed when the same scent from that night came to him; like a gale from Baal, it met him relentlessly, almost like a storm. He had to stop and collect himself. Another of his visions?!

He needed to support himself against the wall when—

Tap, tap, tap…

The soft sound of footsteps, fast and light like the one of a mouse that is trying to avoid the presence of its predator. They came from the wall… the passages for the serfs? Used only by them to move faster on the ship?

He was able to hear them clearly. In one series, they were alone; they were following the directions of the main corridor of the ship, and he, like in a trance, started to follow the scent, now stronger than before, that accompanied those footsteps. It couldn't be her. Yes, she wears the same outfit as the serfs on the Red Tear, but what were the chances that she could actually be there NOW?

He marched on, ignoring everyone and everything that was around him, almost scaring the few that tried to get closer or to distract him. The beloved angel now looked like the predator he usually tried to conceal, and he didn't plan to stop this hunt until he caught the object of his attention.

The footstep led him to a less crowded area of the flagship, an area that he remembered was used only on specific occasions, an amphitheater used by the Iteratos, now completely empty and illuminated by the dim lights of the stars. The windows were colored with images of the great conquests of the emperor and his sons and iconography of humankind rising to the stars. With the proper lights, the colors would have reflected on the entire area with gracefulness and splendor, but now the only thing that showed up was the sudden light of a door opening.

Still hidden in the corridor, the Primarch refused to show himself, only to admire with stupor the woman that had decided to grace him in his dream and clouded his mind during the day.

Maybe it was the sleep, but here in his waking hours you were quite different from what he had previously seen, yet it was still without a doubt you. The same eyes, the same face, the same hair…

You looked so small, completely oblivious to the danger that he and his sons could do to you, here alone in this place. So helpless… He could literally just grab you and—

NO! What was he thinking?! You were a baseline, someone under his care! You were a serf, but you were wearing his colors, for goodness sake! He tried to collect himself. His hand played with the flask hidden under his robes; in the worst scenario, he still had something to quench his thirst. Better to direct you somewhere else; this was still a private area, and it was clear that you didn't belong there.

Before he could fully get out from the tunnel, another pair of footsteps, this one heavier and from another of the various tunnels around the amphitheater, caught his attention again. You did not notice, captivated by the stained glass, the hulking figure that started to approach you with attentive steps.

Black shirt, a red tunic with the symbol of the legion, a bionic eye to replace one lost in battle, his same smell… one of his sons?

The figure approached, silently, moving carefully without making a sound towards you, and something in Sanguinius's head started to roar.

A fear started to bloom: the image of your poor, desecrated body on the ground in a pool of blood, his son losing control over his own senses…

His wings quivered with the thoughts, and his feet moved on their own. His teeth bared, crimson eyes fixed on the future scenario in front of him. He was just a few steps closer; he begged you to just turn around, to notice, to sense the danger, and—

The figure opens his arms, holding you in a loving embrace. You made a short scream of surprise, then turned to laughter. He put you down; his face was empty of every malice that one creature could possess, his eyes thoseof a lover.

To the primarch's surprise, one of his sons started to cover your face in sweet, gentle kisses, and you reciprocated each one of them.