Unveiled (MLL)

With each mile that he passed with his car his anger turned from fury to a blinding fire to a pitch black pit of chaos. And yet the pitch black chaos was too small a word as further ahead he went, until there he stood in front of ‘Manerium Somniorum’ The manor of dreams. Standing at the gates his anger dissipated to a form of fear and melancholy. Christian knew it like he knew the back of his hand that these emotions were his. Whatever he was feeling was an aftermath of what the manor was listening in on. The walls were screaming the story that unfolded between their bricks as the windows tried to leap open, over powered by the yearning need for some kind of a void. An escape from what unfolded. The gate of the manor seemed barred from reality. Acutely preoccupied by the nightmare. Participating and escaping every word the manor screamed. Time did not exist beyond these gates. No what was left behind was simply the shadow of broken hearts. With each second that passed Christian watched a darkness descend upon the manor as thick mists of clouds and shadows formed. Untouched was the reality outside the gate but inside Manerium Somniorum dreamed. Dreamed of a heartbroken man. Echoed of an unquenchable thirst. Begged for her return. Pulling every reality into it in its desperation, whispering and moaning Christian or anyone that dared to watch to enter. Enter their dream. Dream their love. And bathe in their despair as a symphony lulled Christian into a heavy sleep. With each ticking minute the manor seemed to draw further and further away, without even realizing his eyes had closed and his body was mesmerized by her. By them. It played out again like a song, starting with a verse. A look. A pair of eyes. A shadow. As translucent darkness shone brightly around a man and interlaced with his soul. And there she stood. It was her form and her face and yet her eyes betrayed who she was. A conscious thought metaphored into her existence, standing right there under the soft glow of his lantern. Christian was the prince and the prince was chaos as their fell in love for the first time. As their skin felt the fleeting graze of her smile and their ears heard the soft whisper of her gown tease the ground. There all three souls stood as one falling in love with the same form and yet a different woman. "We were never meant for tomorrow ..." She said with a trembling voice as her hand reached out for his, so close and yet much like their fates all there was between them were dreams.

taipan · 都市

レビュー数が足りません

74 Chs

Chapter 9

Athena did not see his face. She really wanted but she figured if he wasn't ready, she could wait. All she knew was that by the time they finished dancing her eyes were drooping and she was falling asleep in the warmth of his arms. Leaning against his chest, her body surrounded by the familiar smell of musk. She felt his arms lean down and carry her.

"Don't open your eyes" he said and Athena was lost in the rough timber of his voice. It sounded so familiar but she could remember why. She could not remember where she might have heard him. Cradling her in his arms he took Athena to bed.

Athena never opened her eyes as she held onto his wrist begging him to stay. She could almost hear him sigh. See the defeat in his brown grey eyes. Athena didn't know how she knew they were brown - grey. She just did. He moved, and she felt the mattress dip beside her.

He bundled her small body in his arms, drawing her close to his chest. Letting her hear the soft slow beat his heart. Somehow, she got the feeling that this was what he sounded like when at peace. That she had brought him some peace. His chest moved up and down against her cheek. Athena reached out to cup his face. Feeling the rough stubble under her fingertips, before they ventured to trace his lips. Athena imagined them to be pink like the man in her dreams. Not that she could tell, but what she did know is that they were the softest pair of lips she had ever well touched. She traced each line that ran along its curve, memorizing the way they felt.

"You are beautiful. I know I cannot see you but I just know that you are… I don't know why but I have this image of you in my head. I see a man in my dreams. It's never the same dream but it's always the same man. I don't know why, I imagine you look exactly like him. I imagine that you have unruly brown curls that fall down carelessly on your forehead. That despite everything you do to tame it there is this one rebellious strand that always finds its way down. You hate it but I like it a lot. Somehow it adds to your perfection. That you have a combination of grey and brown colored eyes. Brown at the center and grey at the periphery. Like it did not want to disappoint any one color. I know that your skin is a light shade of brown. Very close to white but retaining the little Indian heritage of your mother, while rebelling your father's French heritage. I…"

"I am not beautiful, my angel. I am monster. My face is that of the devil himself, broken is its beauty. Dangerous is its look. It's a predator. It's an illusion. So, please don't tarnish the imagination of your perfect man with the image of my face. You deserve more than me my queen. And I will forever be grateful for this one moment that spared me…"

His fingers curled around her wrist, stopping them from discovering him any further and kissed each of her fingertips before drawing them again over his chest. Not responding to the way she sunk my nails in his skin. Marking him, before she drowned herself in his embrace and affection.

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