1 Temptress

A sweet pleasurable sensation of lips immerses me in a sea of lustful delusions I don't bother trying to crawl out of. I can feel every hot tongue scraping across my bare skin, lapping up every drop of the blood I had just bathed in. And their hands, long outstretched fingers narrowed in black curved claws, wildly explore my body like some rare exotic find. Not one ever tears into me, not even leaving behind a single gash. I must mean something to them if they haven't bitten into me by now. I haven't even felt a sliver of a tooth breaking skin either. Their touch is gentle, yet starved. I can't tell how much longer they can hold back the temptation. But they have. It's funny. I came here willing to die. I accepted it, and here I lie still alive after hours more. It's been hours...my god, I still can't believe how much time has passed already.

Their eyes are blood red, some a striking silver. Last night I saw my own had changed to a glistening starlight amber with flecks of gold. I've never seen anything so captivating than my own gaze looking back in the mirror. They did something to me, or maybe I did this to myself. Whoever the girl I was had changed in the reflection, in some ungodly way. As for when it happened I can't say. I feel im losing my mind.

'You did this to yourself', his voice echoes somewhere far yet close in my ear, heeding his laughter. I've always been fond of that laugh.

"Maybe," I breathe and grip the sides of the sink, letting my gaze narrow even if I'm just seeing myself staring back, "but you're here too, trapped alongside me. Just as lost like me."

'We', he corrects, and I feel that familiar smile falter. At the corners of my vision, I see the black smoke alter into a form he favors. Someone he plays well. When the shape of a man so bizarre and yet so familiar becomes clearer, only the black smoke remains in his eyes. It's the one distinctive feature about him that I recognize even if he's someone else. I don't turn from the mirror. I don't react. Even though I cannot see him in the glass I can feel him closing in. He shifts around me before his hand cups my chin.

"Why are you scared?" Even his voice, now out in the open is very different from the one I came to know inside my head. It feels so familiar yet frighteningly off.

"You know why." It doesn't help that we share the same consciousness. He might as well be my living shadow never too far from my side. I feel a slight shiver work its way down my spine. The feeling brings an odd sense of pleasure overlapping my dread.

"You chose this. If you hadn't, they might not still be breathing. Then where would you be?" My silence does nothing but further his point. My stomach twists. "Listen to me when I tell you to stop choking yourself over outcomes you cannot control. They're alive because of what you did. Or perhaps what you didn't do."

I don't realize how badly im shaky until his grip on me becomes clear when he squeezes my arm. My teeth begin grinding as my knuckles whiten against the sink, "I killed her. She's dead because of what I chose to do."

"She was sick," his voice hisses in my ear, "If you hadn't done what you did, she could have killed someone or everyone you cared for."

I can't help but laugh, "She could have killed someone? I'm the one who's doing the killing, not her. She can't, she's dead," the grin on my face aches to no end, but I can't stop laughing, even with this nausea twisting inside of me like some coiling disease. I cling to the sink for dear life being it's the only thing holding me upright for the moment, "I cared about her too."

"You still do-", he's cut off by the glass cracking into three jagged parts meeting at the center. Another crack forms, following and another, and other.

I flinch at every sound made by the glass gradually getting louder, but I can't stop myself from letting the words fall. They come out through a whisper, "And she's still dead."

The cracks stop forming. All sound ceases and the touch of his hand on my arm is gone. Only a young woman's voice breaks me from the damaged mirror and every damned plaguing thought.

"Temptress..." her voice is soft like soothing summer nights when the heat isn't too much to bear and I can drift off to sleep with ease. I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself. Even her scent reminds me of those nights. I shut my eyes trying to imagine it. She's upon me in moments, with her delicate fingers sliding underneath the nightgown they clothed me in. Every touch of her rises alongside the warmth surging beneath my skin. The sensation makes me crave more of her, to lose more of myself in whatever lust-filled dream they lure me into. And I would go willingly if it meant a release from the tormenting pains that bind me to what haunts me. Maybe losing myself is a good thing. Maybe I should forget.

Soft hands hug my cheek and suddenly I'm reminded of the creature standing before me. I open my eyes to find rings of silver overlapping such a beautiful white studying me with worry. It's funny, amongst the rest, her eyes have always occupied my attention the most second to my own. It's almost enough to make me forget what she is. I still don't have a name for them yet, and they have yet to tell me anything.

"Come back to bed?" she asks in the softest of tones. The sound moves me, and her lips captivate me.

I gulp, forcing a small smile, "In a bit," before leaning in and kissing those soft lips of hers. She tastes so much like honeysuckle and a sweetness I can't quite name. Before I realize what I'm doing, I have one hand buried in tangles of rich scarlet hair while the other is cupped around her bare neck. She pulls away first, a playful game of hers. To chase and to bite, to catch and to feast. Such a dangerously thrilling game of cat and beast.

I groan knowing I'll pursue her anyway, "I'm growing impatient with your teasing."

She giggles too high pitched to sound human. Normally I'd feel frightened from such a sound if it weren't for that strange memory of hearing that same laugh somewhere before. In a dream maybe? I don't remember.

"And I'm growing hungry for your affection," she purrs. Each step she takes back I take another two forward.

I shouldn't be doing this, "Oh? Is that so?"

Her bare feet fall silent on the floorboards even when she's scurrying back, quick and nimble as a marten, "Don't you want me?"

My heart skips a beat, "Yes," I breathe. Slowly the white shawl falls from her shoulders leaving only the sleeveless gown.

"Please, come back to bed," her voice begs, pulling me in hard, and all rational thought becomes meaningless. Her arms reach behind her back, and in seconds the gown slips down to rest on her hips like a dying flame. My lips crash into hers in an instant. Every curve of her trembling beneath my hold entices a feeling I can't seem to control. I don't even think I want control. I want to drown. I don't want to think, only feel. Her grip locks me im place, but I don't want to leave. Not now, not ever. We're back in the chambers without giving it a second thought as to how, before I collapse onto the bed with her beneath me with our lips never apart. The others join in quickly just as piranhas tasting the first spill of fresh blood. It's an endless cycle I can't fight, nor do I want to anymore. It's been hours, I think, but time isn't exactly easy to tell when you're underground.