Chapter 129: 129
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My promise lingers in the air, catching in the breeze and turning the chill of the night into something warmer, more comforting. Although I cannot see the Prince, I can feel him smile against my skin gleefully, as if that was the only thing he ever wanted. After a few moments, he pulls back, catching the chain of my ruby necklace between his slender fingers. I realise what he is about to ask a second before the words tumble out of his mouth.
"May I?"
Even if I had wanted to, the sweet compassion in his words make them hard to resist, washing over me with a lulling calmness that promises me no matter what, everything will be okay. Besides, I suppose there is no use in hiding any more. No matter how much I hate it, how exposed I feel, he is my mate, and I owe him that much. With a lingering reluctance at the thought of being so exposed, I lift my hair up carefully, giving him access to the clasp.
"B-be careful," I beg quietly, catching his eyes with mine as a sudden spark runs through me. "Wings are fragile things."
He stops for a second, his hands wavering before my skin. A sly smirk creeps onto his face.
"Fragile, I am sure. But are they sensitive too? Like these?" he asks deviously, a good natured humour playing on his face as he lifts his hands to brush over the horns curling downwards from my head- rams horns, only much more delicate, like his. At his touch a flicker of pleasure runs through me, filling up my body with that sensuous feeling of bliss and arousal, sweeping away my worries like a leaf on the wind. I shudder, biting my lip to keep myself contained as I jerk myself away rapidly.
"Enough of that, you tease," I scold, reprimanding him with a point of my finger. Soren pouts a little, then offers me up a devilish wink.
"Are they though?"
I groan. As much as I love Soren, he has an awful habit of asking the most embarrassing questions.
"Yes, fine, they are. Just please, I haven't used them for ages, they are very delicate. Be gentle, alright?"
"Of course, my darling."
Just to emphasise his point, he nods his understanding, sliding his hand further up along my body, smoothing over my collar as he slips it behind my neck, gingerly leaning over to kiss my cheek, his soft lips pressing against my skin. His hands latch on to the clasp.
"Thank you," he whispers.
The necklace falls to the ground-
-And a long forgotten weight returns to my back, accompanied with a ripping sound as the wings tear through the fabric of my shirt. Wind rustles through my feathers, eliciting sensations that seemed all but forgotten to tremble back into my body, and I blush a little at the intensity of Soren's gaze, his lips parted in silent affirmation. I can tell by the look on his face that he desperately wants to touch them. To observe the feel of an angel's wings- my wings, under the circumstances that don't involve killing. I give him a little nod, showing my assent. He smiles.
Whether he cares that the wings have torn through holes in the back of my shirt I cannot tell, to distracted by the prospect of Soren's hands on my wings to even truly care. Even in a clan full of angels, it is a rarity, if not a privilege to touch another angels wings- an honoured act of intimacy that is very occasionally expressed. So it is no surprise that I shudder a little as Soren lifts up a hand to ghost over the silken tips of my feathers, throwing my head back against the wind. With a keen interest, he trails his fingers over my two pairs of wings, glancing up to watch for my reaction.
"Does that feel good, darling?" he asks, my only answer being a soft grunt and a firm bite of my lip. Soren chuckles lightly to himself.
"You're beautiful, you know," he whispers, and I blush in response.
"Don't you hate them?" I mutter, averting my gaze to hide the steady redness that grows on the swell of my cheeks. Soren 'tsks' his disapproval, bringing himself over me as he lowers me to the ground, hand clasped around my wrists as he lets his gaze wander over the glorious spread of my wings- and elsewhere on my body.
"I may be at bitter war with your kind, but I am not stupid enough to not appreciate such a goddess when I see one,"
The flushed redness of my face hastens its course over my body in response. Tenderly, he pops off one of my buttons, drawing aside the fabric with a careful fondness to expose my red marking of a sun on my slender shoulder, a mark that had been hidden from sight for weeks on end. He sucks in a breath bitterly.
"So that's what the bastards in Illistrae trained you as. A divinist. To contain such a power like you in a single division… the fools. But no matter, you do not belong to them any more," he mutters, a hint of anger and bitter disdain seeping into the cracks of his voice as he draws the fabric aside a little further. I squirm a little as he presses his lips to my markings, tracing over the stark redness of it against my skin.
"Mine," he whispers with a low growl, his lips continuing across my collar bone until he reaches my jugular, and for a moment allows himself the liberty of capturing a soft portion of my skin in his lips, sucking on it gently. Then he draws away, strands of salvia breaking from the point of contact as he looks me in the eyes and repeats.
"Mine."
A shivering tingle runs through me. His searching hands pop open a few more buttons, revealing the valley between my breasts as I lie beneath him, my heart pounding, breaths heavy with anticipation, splayed out like a blanket of trees beneath the stars. His lips part a little, eyes shining as he traces a tentative hand between that exposed patch of skin, trailing something between his fingers with an inquisitive wonder. Curiously, I look up.
"What is it?" I ask, worry starting to swirl in the pit of my stomach over what he might have found. I am met with a small smile.
"You have my mark,"
"Your… mark?" He nods in affirmation, leaning up off me as he begins to unbutton his shirt, slowly and methodically working his way down, at last discarding it to the side with a dismissive flick of his hand. Then he waves a hand over his body and black swirling ink fades itself into existence. The thin tattooed ink spreads across his skin in a network of thorns, splayed across one half of his chest, across the collar and down his arm. The tattoo- or marking, I am not quite sure, is embroidered onto his skin with thorns and roses, dotting its way across his pale skin like a star spangled sky, rippling with every shallow breath and tiny movement beneath his skin. Thorns and roses. How fitting.
"I have this?" I ask, tracing the curved thorns that wind their way over the smooth planes of his chest, an expanse of inky blackness that coils in tendrils of darkness over the frigid chill of his body. It is a beautiful pattern, just as he is beautiful, a mark that tells of death and love, of blood and war.
"Yes, you have the same pattern," he explains in a hushed whisper, trailing a finger absently down my chest again to trace over the patterns beneath their tips. He frowns. "It's my mark of power as a vampire. I think-" he pauses for a moment, mulling over the words in his mouth with careful consideration. "I think while your body rejected some of my blood, burnt it out of your system, some alterations took place to make you at least half a vampire. You see, halflings don't get these marks, but you are more of a hybrid." I can tell he is avoiding talking about the distinctly obvious changes, perhaps out of fear of what I might do to him. I expect by now he realises that I was not the most pleased on his decision to change me. Or at least, not initially.
"I can make them disappear if you want, like mine," he says, waving a hand over his chest, causing his marks to vanish back into his skin. After a moments deliberation, I shake my head.
"No, I think I will keep them. Then I have a constant reminder of you. Is that okay?"
Soren smiles widely in answer, his eyes gleaming with joy. Gently, he cups a hand around my cheek, pulling me close to him. His lips meet mine, tentative and soft at first, before becoming hungry, drawing me into a series of wet open mouthed kisses. Tingles run down my spine as his mouth moves against mine, causing my wings to involuntarily curl around us in irresistible pleasure. Between each kiss, and each little gasp for air, Soren's voice murmurs low and husky against my skin, each word more sensuous than the last.
"Of course, darling.. You can do anything you like."
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My promise lingers in the air, catching in the breeze and turning the chill of the night into something warmer, more comforting. Although I cannot see the Prince, I can feel him smile against my skin gleefully, as if that was the only thing he ever wanted. After a few moments, he pulls back, catching the chain of my ruby necklace between his slender fingers. I realise what he is about to ask a second before the words tumble out of his mouth.
"May I?"
Even if I had wanted to, the sweet compassion in his words make them hard to resist, washing over me with a lulling calmness that promises me no matter what, everything will be okay. Besides, I suppose there is no use in hiding any more. No matter how much I hate it, how exposed I feel, he is my mate, and I owe him that much. With a lingering reluctance at the thought of being so exposed, I lift my hair up carefully, giving him access to the clasp.
"B-be careful," I beg quietly, catching his eyes with mine as a sudden spark runs through me. "Wings are fragile things."
He stops for a second, his hands wavering before my skin. A sly smirk creeps onto his face.
"Fragile, I am sure. But are they sensitive too? Like these?" he asks deviously, a good natured humour playing on his face as he lifts his hands to brush over the horns curling downwards from my head- rams horns, only much more delicate, like his. At his touch a flicker of pleasure runs through me, filling up my body with that sensuous feeling of bliss and arousal, sweeping away my worries like a leaf on the wind. I shudder, biting my lip to keep myself contained as I jerk myself away rapidly.
"Enough of that, you tease," I scold, reprimanding him with a point of my finger. Soren pouts a little, then offers me up a devilish wink.
"Are they though?"
I groan. As much as I love Soren, he has an awful habit of asking the most embarrassing questions.
"Yes, fine, they are. Just please, I haven't used them for ages, they are very delicate. Be gentle, alright?"
"Of course, my darling."
Just to emphasise his point, he nods his understanding, sliding his hand further up along my body, smoothing over my collar as he slips it behind my neck, gingerly leaning over to kiss my cheek, his soft lips pressing against my skin. His hands latch on to the clasp.
"Thank you," he whispers.
The necklace falls to the ground-
-And a long forgotten weight returns to my back, accompanied with a ripping sound as the wings tear through the fabric of my shirt. Wind rustles through my feathers, eliciting sensations that seemed all but forgotten to tremble back into my body, and I blush a little at the intensity of Soren's gaze, his lips parted in silent affirmation. I can tell by the look on his face that he desperately wants to touch them. To observe the feel of an angel's wings- my wings, under the circumstances that don't involve killing. I give him a little nod, showing my assent. He smiles.
Whether he cares that the wings have torn through holes in the back of my shirt I cannot tell, to distracted by the prospect of Soren's hands on my wings to even truly care. Even in a clan full of angels, it is a rarity, if not a privilege to touch another angels wings- an honoured act of intimacy that is very occasionally expressed. So it is no surprise that I shudder a little as Soren lifts up a hand to ghost over the silken tips of my feathers, throwing my head back against the wind. With a keen interest, he trails his fingers over my two pairs of wings, glancing up to watch for my reaction.
"Does that feel good, darling?" he asks, my only answer being a soft grunt and a firm bite of my lip. Soren chuckles lightly to himself.
"You're beautiful, you know," he whispers, and I blush in response.
"Don't you hate them?" I mutter, averting my gaze to hide the steady redness that grows on the swell of my cheeks. Soren 'tsks' his disapproval, bringing himself over me as he lowers me to the ground, hand clasped around my wrists as he lets his gaze wander over the glorious spread of my wings- and elsewhere on my body.
"I may be at bitter war with your kind, but I am not stupid enough to not appreciate such a goddess when I see one,"
The flushed redness of my face hastens its course over my body in response. Tenderly, he pops off one of my buttons, drawing aside the fabric with a careful fondness to expose my red marking of a sun on my slender shoulder, a mark that had been hidden from sight for weeks on end. He sucks in a breath bitterly.
"So that's what the bastards in Illistrae trained you as. A divinist. To contain such a power like you in a single division… the fools. But no matter, you do not belong to them any more," he mutters, a hint of anger and bitter disdain seeping into the cracks of his voice as he draws the fabric aside a little further. I squirm a little as he presses his lips to my markings, tracing over the stark redness of it against my skin.
"Mine," he whispers with a low growl, his lips continuing across my collar bone until he reaches my jugular, and for a moment allows himself the liberty of capturing a soft portion of my skin in his lips, sucking on it gently. Then he draws away, strands of salvia breaking from the point of contact as he looks me in the eyes and repeats.
"Mine."
A shivering tingle runs through me. His searching hands pop open a few more buttons, revealing the valley between my breasts as I lie beneath him, my heart pounding, breaths heavy with anticipation, splayed out like a blanket of trees beneath the stars. His lips part a little, eyes shining as he traces a tentative hand between that exposed patch of skin, trailing something between his fingers with an inquisitive wonder. Curiously, I look up.
"What is it?" I ask, worry starting to swirl in the pit of my stomach over what he might have found. I am met with a small smile.
"You have my mark,"
"Your… mark?" He nods in affirmation, leaning up off me as he begins to unbutton his shirt, slowly and methodically working his way down, at last discarding it to the side with a dismissive flick of his hand. Then he waves a hand over his body and black swirling ink fades itself into existence. The thin tattooed ink spreads across his skin in a network of thorns, splayed across one half of his chest, across the collar and down his arm. The tattoo- or marking, I am not quite sure, is embroidered onto his skin with thorns and roses, dotting its way across his pale skin like a star spangled sky, rippling with every shallow breath and tiny movement beneath his skin. Thorns and roses. How fitting.
"I have this?" I ask, tracing the curved thorns that wind their way over the smooth planes of his chest, an expanse of inky blackness that coils in tendrils of darkness over the frigid chill of his body. It is a beautiful pattern, just as he is beautiful, a mark that tells of death and love, of blood and war.
"Yes, you have the same pattern," he explains in a hushed whisper, trailing a finger absently down my chest again to trace over the patterns beneath their tips. He frowns. "It's my mark of power as a vampire. I think-" he pauses for a moment, mulling over the words in his mouth with careful consideration. "I think while your body rejected some of my blood, burnt it out of your system, some alterations took place to make you at least half a vampire. You see, halflings don't get these marks, but you are more of a hybrid." I can tell he is avoiding talking about the distinctly obvious changes, perhaps out of fear of what I might do to him. I expect by now he realises that I was not the most pleased on his decision to change me. Or at least, not initially.
"I can make them disappear if you want, like mine," he says, waving a hand over his chest, causing his marks to vanish back into his skin. After a moments deliberation, I shake my head.
"No, I think I will keep them. Then I have a constant reminder of you. Is that okay?"
Soren smiles widely in answer, his eyes gleaming with joy. Gently, he cups a hand around my cheek, pulling me close to him. His lips meet mine, tentative and soft at first, before becoming hungry, drawing me into a series of wet open mouthed kisses. Tingles run down my spine as his mouth moves against mine, causing my wings to involuntarily curl around us in irresistible pleasure. Between each kiss, and each little gasp for air, Soren's voice murmurs low and husky against my skin, each word more sensuous than the last.
"Of course, darling.. You can do anything you like."
My promise lingers in the air, catching in the breeze and turning the chill of the night into something warmer, more comforting. Although I cannot see the Prince, I can feel him smile against my skin gleefully, as if that was the only thing he ever wanted. After a few moments, he pulls back, catching the chain of my ruby necklace between his slender fingers. I realise what he is about to ask a second before the words tumble out of his mouth."May I?"Even if I had wanted to, the sweet compassion in his words make them hard to resist, washing over me with a lulling calmness that promises me no matter what, everything will be okay. Besides, I suppose there is no use in hiding any more. No matter how much I hate it, how exposed I feel, he is my mate, and I owe him that much. With a lingering reluctance at the thought of being so exposed, I lift my hair up carefully, giving him access to the clasp."B-be careful," I beg quietly, catching his eyes with mine as a sudden spark runs through me. "Wings are fragile things."He stops for a second, his hands wavering before my skin. A sly smirk creeps onto his face."Fragile, I am sure. But are they sensitive too? Like these?" he asks deviously, a good natured humour playing on his face as he lifts his hands to brush over the horns curling downwards from my head- rams horns, only much more delicate, like his. At his touch a flicker of pleasure runs through me, filling up my body with that sensuous feeling of bliss and arousal, sweeping away my worries like a leaf on the wind. I shudder, biting my lip to keep myself contained as I jerk myself away rapidly."Enough of that, you tease," I scold, reprimanding him with a point of my finger. Soren pouts a little, then offers me up a devilish wink."Are they though?"I groan. As much as I love Soren, he has an awful habit of asking the most embarrassing questions."Yes, fine, they are. Just please, I haven't used them for ages, they are very delicate. Be gentle, alright?""Of course, my darling."Just to emphasise his point, he nods his understanding, sliding his hand further up along my body, smoothing over my collar as he slips it behind my neck, gingerly leaning over to kiss my cheek, his soft lips pressing against my skin. His hands latch on to the clasp."Thank you," he whispers.The necklace falls to the ground--And a long forgotten weight returns to my back, accompanied with a ripping sound as the wings tear through the fabric of my shirt. Wind rustles through my feathers, eliciting sensations that seemed all but forgotten to tremble back into my body, and I blush a little at the intensity of Soren's gaze, his lips parted in silent affirmation. I can tell by the look on his face that he desperately wants to touch them. To observe the feel of an angel's wings- my wings, under the circumstances that don't involve killing. I give him a little nod, showing my assent. He smiles.Whether he cares that the wings have torn through holes in the back of my shirt I cannot tell, to distracted by the prospect of Soren's hands on my wings to even truly care. Even in a clan full of angels, it is a rarity, if not a privilege to touch another angels wings- an honoured act of intimacy that is very occasionally expressed. So it is no surprise that I shudder a little as Soren lifts up a hand to ghost over the silken tips of my feathers, throwing my head back against the wind. With a keen interest, he trails his fingers over my two pairs of wings, glancing up to watch for my reaction."Does that feel good, darling?" he asks, my only answer being a soft grunt and a firm bite of my lip. Soren chuckles lightly to himself."You're beautiful, you know," he whispers, and I blush in response. "Don't you hate them?" I mutter, averting my gaze to hide the steady redness that grows on the swell of my cheeks. Soren 'tsks' his disapproval, bringing himself over me as he lowers me to the ground, hand clasped around my wrists as he lets his gaze wander over the glorious spread of my wings- and elsewhere on my body. "I may be at bitter war with your kind, but I am not stupid enough to not appreciate such a goddess when I see one," The flushed redness of my face hastens its course over my body in response. Tenderly, he pops off one of my buttons, drawing aside the fabric with a careful fondness to expose my red marking of a sun on my slender shoulder, a mark that had been hidden from sight for weeks on end. He sucks in a breath bitterly."So that's what the bastards in Illistrae trained you as. A divinist. To contain such a power like you in a single division the fools. But no matter, you do not belong to them any more," he mutters, a hint of anger and bitter disdain seeping into the cracks of his voice as he draws the fabric aside a little further. I squirm a little as he presses his lips to my markings, tracing over the stark redness of it against my skin."Mine," he whispers with a low growl, his lips continuing across my collar bone until he reaches my jugular, and for a moment allows himself the liberty of capturing a soft portion of my skin in his lips, sucking on it gently. Then he draws away, strands of salvia breaking from the point of contact as he looks me in the eyes and repeats."Mine."A shivering tingle runs through me. His searching hands pop open a few more buttons, revealing the valley between my breasts as I lie beneath him, my heart pounding, breaths heavy with anticipation, splayed out like a blanket of trees beneath the stars. His lips part a little, eyes shining as he traces a tentative hand between that exposed patch of skin, trailing something between his fingers with an inquisitive wonder. Curiously, I look up."What is it?" I ask, worry starting to swirl in the pit of my stomach over what he might have found. I am met with a small smile."You have my mark,""Your mark?" He nods in affirmation, leaning up off me as he begins to unbutton his shirt, slowly and methodically working his way down, at last discarding it to the side with a dismissive flick of his hand. Then he waves a hand over his body and black swirling ink fades itself into existence. The thin tattooed ink spreads across his skin in a network of thorns, splayed across one half of his chest, across the collar and down his arm. The tattoo- or marking, I am not quite sure, is embroidered onto his skin with thorns and roses, dotting its way across his pale skin like a star spangled sky, rippling with every shallow breath and tiny movement beneath his skin. Thorns and roses. How fitting."I have this?" I ask, tracing the curved thorns that wind their way over the smooth planes of his chest, an expanse of inky blackness that coils in tendrils of darkness over the frigid chill of his body. It is a beautiful pattern, just as he is beautiful, a mark that tells of death and love, of blood and war."Yes, you have the same pattern," he explains in a hushed whisper, trailing a finger absently down my chest again to trace over the patterns beneath their tips. He frowns. "It's my mark of power as a vampire. I think-" he pauses for a moment, mulling over the words in his mouth with careful consideration. "I think while your body rejected some of my blood, burnt it out of your system, some alterations took place to make you at least half a vampire. You see, halflings don't get these marks, but you are more of a hybrid." I can tell he is avoiding talking about the distinctly obvious changes, perhaps out of fear of what I might do to him. I expect by now he realises that I was not the most pleased on his decision to change me. Or at least, not initially."I can make them disappear if you want, like mine," he says, waving a hand over his chest, causing his marks to vanish back into his skin. After a moments deliberation, I shake my head. "No, I think I will keep them. Then I have a constant reminder of you. Is that okay?"Soren smiles widely in answer, his eyes gleaming with joy. Gently, he cups a hand around my cheek, pulling me close to him. His lips meet mine, tentative and soft at first, before becoming hungry, drawing me into a series of wet open mouthed kisses. Tingles run down my spine as his mouth moves against mine, causing my wings to involuntarily curl around us in irresistible pleasure. Between each kiss, and each little gasp for air, Soren's voice murmurs low and husky against my skin, each word more sensuous than the last."Of course, darling.. You can do anything you like."
