《Club Dusk》


 Chapter 1: Elena

    I stood in an endless void, the air was thick and suffocating. The world around me was a wash of black, the ground beneath my feet indistinguishable from the sky, or lack of, above. Yet, in this darkness, there was an eerie calm. I had been here before. I knew very well what I was about to witness. Well, not entirely. Each time it was different. A different scene would play out before me like a silent film. I would watch entranced as figures or items, sometime even animals would show in front of me. They were always in negative space, outlined in white, like they were drawn on a chalkboard. It was always unnerving to watch, even though they would show me benign things. A wolf, an owl, some kind of flower, trees, a flame and an eye. Each vision I saw would always end with a bright light in the shape of a burst star. That was usually when I woke up. Yet, the vision had not started. I looked around the blackness and nothing appeared. Without warning, my feet brushed against something soft. I glanced down, and a surge of anguish slammed into me, overwhelming everything else. A body lay at my feet. Tears were already streaming down my face, though I hadn¡¯t realised it until then. I blinked through the blur, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn¡¯t make out who it was¡ªjust a white outline against the void. Yet, the pain was unmistakable, gnawing at my chest and pulling a sob from my throat. A voice whispered inside me: I did this.


    My hands shook uncontrollably as tears dripped down into the endless void. I wanted to reach out, to touch them, but my fingers wouldn¡¯t obey. A sob tore through me, louder this time. This person was beautiful¡ªachingly so¡ªperfect and beloved beyond words. I did this, I heard again. But just as the grief settled in, a sudden prickle of panic crawled up my spine. I wasn¡¯t alone. The weight of another presence pressed against me, and I turned slowly, afraid of what I might see. My breath caught in my throat. A stranger emerged from the shadows, outlined in vivid red¡ªeach step they took toward me deliberate, their hand slowly unfurling in my direction. My breath hitched. The stranger took one step towards me as the colour changed from searing red to a deep purple. For reasons I couldn¡¯t explain, the deep purple soothed me, its warmth drawing me in. It felt familiar, almost comforting. Still, the stranger¡¯s face remained hidden, their features impossible to make out, but something in me knew them. They took another step forward, hand outstretched in invitation. My feet moved without thinking, drawn closer by the pull between us. My hand rose to meet theirs but before they touched, I watched as smoky green tendrils snaked around their arm and reached out and wrapped around my wrist, bringing us closer. Something about this felt wrong¡ªtoo much, too fast.


    ¡°No!¡± I heard my voice echo in the void and pulled my hand back. The swirling tendrils of smoke snapped like broken ribbons as I jerked my hand back to my chest. My breath quickened, each inhale sharp and shallow. The stranger before me shifted again, their purple outline dissolving into a harsh, blinding green. It was too bright¡ªpainfully bright¡ªand I had to fight the urge to look away. My heart pounded in my ears as they stepped closer, the glow of their presence suffocating in its intensity, beautiful yet utterly terrifying. Their lips parted.


    ¡°Elena¡­¡± their voice was soft but familiar, so familiar. The smoke tendrils started to swirl around them. The lines of the figure started to take a clear shape. I tried to focus on their features. Long hair, yes they had long hair. Was that a woman¡¯s shape? Who was this?


    ¡°Elena¡­¡± They repeated, and the sound seemed to stretch, to twist, this time more urgent, more desperate. I snapped my eyes back to their face. Their eyes¡ªblazing white¡ªgrew impossibly brighter, pulling me in. I couldn¡¯t look away, couldn¡¯t resist, as if I were hypnotised. Then with a shrill shriek I heard my name and a flash of the eye symbol appeared followed by the burst star.


    ¡°ELENA!¡±


    I gasped, eyes snapping open. My heart thundered in my chest, the sound echoing in the quiet of my room. The harsh glow of my laptop screen stung my eyes as I sat up, rubbing my face. My heart finally steadied and I let out a long yawn. Great, I am going to be exhausted for the rest of the evening. These dreams have become more frequent and more vivid. Those last images were ingrained in my vision. Lingering like ghosts every time I blinked my eyes.


    The dead figure, the stranger, the eye and the burst star. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes and there they were again in a flash. I sighed and glanced at the clock on my laptop. Quarter to six, and the sun had already set. The laptop illuminated my room in a faint neon glow and I turned around and looked out my window. I could see the hint of yellow where the sun was setting, the gradients of blue now taking over in the winter sky. I got up from my desk where I had slumped over and went for a nap, stretched and walked over to the window. No snow yet, which was strange for December. Out here in the Waterow ¡®burbs, there was usually a soft flurry or a thick white blanket by now. I frowned in disappointment, my breath fogging up the glass and I moved back to my desk.


    My unfinished report sat there, staring back at me. A dull Gantt chart, filled with lifeless timelines for a project we had to present in Professor Allan¡¯s Business Admin class. I knew this was the safe route, the one my parents always dreamed of for me. They never got to go to college ¨C they had me at seventeen, and every decision they made was for me. I loved them for that.


    But I hadn¡¯t known what I wanted to do with my life, not really, and so I let their dreams become mine. Studying business had seemed practical, secure. The right choice.


    Except¡­staring at this chart now, it didn¡¯t feel like my choice at all.


    I closed my eyes, and the images from my dream flashed before me again, more insistent this time, demanding my attention. ¡°Okay, okay, I get it,¡± I muttered to no one. I snapped my laptop shut and flicked on my desk lamp, its softer glow a welcome relief. I pulled out my sketchbook and pencils from the drawer. The dreams had started when I turned eighteen, almost two years ago now. At first, they were infrequent¡ªmaybe once every couple of months. But over the past year, they had grown worse, more intense and frequent. I tried to ignore them, dismissing them as just dreams, but soon they began to slip into my waking hours, flashes of them disrupting my vision. It wasn¡¯t until about three months ago, when I absentmindedly doodled one during class, that they finally began to ease up. Like a silent scream suddenly stifled.


    After that class, I went straight to the local art store, completely out of my depth as I stared at all the sketchbooks and pencils. Different types of paper and pencils¡ªI didn¡¯t have a clue. Art wasn¡¯t my thing. I hadn¡¯t taken it in high school, and I was sure my parents wouldn¡¯t have approved. They¡¯d always nudged me towards mathematics, computing, and business admin. Science was acceptable, but it never really sparked anything in me.


    I spotted a simple sketchbook with a sticker that read Black Paper A5 Notebook. I stopped and picked it up, running my fingers over its plain, hardback cover. The pages were thick, almost like card stock, and pitch black¡ªjust like my dreams. My eyes widened. This was it. But what could I use to draw on it? None of the pencils would show up. Gel pens? No, they always faded over time. As confusion overtook me, a smooth, slightly raspy voice broke through my thoughts.


    ¡°Excuse me, miss, do you need any help?¡±


    I glanced up into stunning blue eyes and froze. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I realised I was staring. The guy standing in front of me looked about my age, tall and built like a football player¡ªnot someone you¡¯d expect to find working in an art store. His hair was a thick, wavy golden blonde, casually styled, and his features were all sharp edges and angles¡ªhigh cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a square chin that made him look confident. The kind of guy you want to back away from with an ¡®I¡¯m not worthy¡¯ grin. His piercing blue eyes sparkled with amusement as I scrambled for words.


    ¡°Oh, uh, I just found this black paper sketchbook and was wondering what the best instrument was,¡± (Instrument? Really?) ¡°tool, even,¡± (That¡¯s not any better, Elena!) ¡°that I could use to draw in it.¡±


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    I wanted to crawl into my dream void and disappear.


    But the guy smiled, his full lips curving upward, and I immediately looked away, even more embarrassed.


    ¡°Ah, a first-time artist, and already choosing a bold medium,¡± he said, his voice warm and good-natured. I couldn¡¯t help but smile back.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just something I wanted to try,¡± I replied, feeling a bit less awkward. ¡°You know how it is when a crazy idea just hits you?¡± He nodded. ¡°Oh, definitely. That¡¯s what art¡¯s all about¡ªexperimenting, trying out different mediums.¡±


    Mediums? I made a mental note to look that up later.


    He leaned closer, glancing at the sketchbook in my hand. ¡°Let¡¯s see what your options are.¡± He gestured with his head to follow him, and I did. I casually put my hands behind my back and tried to look cool and casual while surveying all the different supplies. Who knew there were so many options for something simple as drawing? This whole art thing still felt foreign to me, but I think it was the only way I could keep those dreams under control. Something about translating the images to paper brought me a weird sense of peace. It was like my mind couldn¡¯t hold the weight of the visions, but once they were sketched out, they stopped screaming at me. Honestly, I could use the reprieve.


    The guy brought me back over to the pencils and hovered his hand over the charcoals. I felt my brow furrow in confusion until he picked up white charcoal pencils. They came in white? I didn¡¯t even know that was possible. He handed them to me and said, ¡°This should do it. Although you need to be careful as it smudges easily, unless you intend to smudge for shading techniques.¡±


    I took the pencils and examined them and some part of me knew this was it. This was what I needed.


    ¡°So, they are quite vibrant on the black paper then?¡± I asked, still half-distracted by my thoughts.


    ¡°Yep¡± he emphasised the ¡°p¡± in a playful way, snapping me back to the moment.


    ¡°what¡¯s the best way to use them without smudging?¡± I added, now more invested in learning the technique. My drawings didn¡¯t have to be perfect, but if I could avoid smudging the whole thing into a blurry mess, I¡¯d feel like I¡¯d accomplished something.


    ¡°Draw from top to bottom if you can and use a fixative spray.¡± He bent over to grab a small spray can from the bottom of the shelf and I refused to feel guilty from having a small peek at his quite rounded backside. Focus Elena. I shot my eyes back to him before he noticed me staring like an idiot. He straightened up and handed me the small can.


    ¡°O-okay, just spray this, in a well-ventilated area, on your finished drawing and let dry. You shouldn¡¯t have any issues. Some artists like to invest in tissue paper between the sheets for extra protection.¡± He raised an eyebrow at me and smirked, ¡°I could find you some A5 size if you like?¡±


    Again, those blue eyes fixed on mine and my cheeks flared. Why did he have to be so ridiculously charming? I looked at the notebook, charcoal pencils, and the spray and already knew this was going to be way more than my wallet could handle. Art supplies are definitely not budget-friendly.


    ¡°I think I will try this for now but will pop in again if I find I need it,¡± I smiled back at him.


    He smiled back, reaching out to take the items from my hands. ¡°Here, let me take those to the register for you and ring you up. Unless... there¡¯s anything else you¡¯d like?¡± There was a flicker of something in his eyes¡ªhopeful, maybe? Or maybe that was just me projecting. Calm down, Elena. He¡¯s just doing his job.


    ¡°No thanks, I¡¯m good with this.¡± I replied quickly, grateful that chivalry wasn¡¯t dead. We walked back to the register, and with each beep, my heart sank. Art is an expensive hobby, I sighed inwardly. But I wasn¡¯t going to let that stop me¡ªthis time.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be thirty-five seventy-five in total,¡± he said, after scanning the last item. My eyes widened, and he must have noticed because he added quickly, ¡°Oh wait, do you have a student card? Sorry, I forgot to ask¡ªstudents get 15% off.¡±


    I smiled in relief, nodding quickly as I fumbled for my wallet. My fingers seemed to forget how to work as I tried to pull the card out. My nerves were obvious, but I finally handed him the student ID, trying to steady my hands.


    He glanced at it, then grinned cheekily. ¡°Eleanor¡ªnow that¡¯s a name I haven¡¯t heard in a while.¡±


    I looked down, clearing my throat. ¡°Actually, I go by Elena. Eleanor was my great-grandmother¡¯s name.¡± I cringed internally¡ªway too much information for a stranger.


    He handed back my card, his smile still in place. ¡°You too? My mom didn¡¯t want her maiden name to disappear, so they named me Carter.¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°Nice to meet you, Carter.¡±


    ¡°Likewise, Elena.¡± He adjusted the total. ¡°That¡¯s thirty thirty-eight.¡±


    Still a bit steep, but I swiped my card anyway.


    I had moved to the comfort of my bed, white charcoal in hand, sketching on autopilot. The familiar figures from my dream appeared before me: the dead figure, smudged and blurred, just as it had been in the dream. My chest tightened at the memory. That overwhelming anguish, the sense that I should know this person... how could I?


    I sighed, starting on the next drawing¡ªthe stranger. I remembered the strange flashes of colour: red, purple, and green. Odd. My dreams were always black and white, yet this one stood out. I¡¯ll have to figure out what those colours mean later.


    As I flipped to a new page, I began sketching the recurring eye. It always looked ancient, like a symbol from a forgotten time. The lashes long, curling both above and below, the iris shaped like an upside-down crescent moon cradling the pupil.


    I glanced up at the picture on my wall¡ªmy favourite, a lotus flower sketched in purples with the word ¡°Clarity¡± written underneath. The soft lavender of my room walls seemed to deepen in the evening light. My gaze wandered to the posters scattered haphazardly across the room. The chaotic display of Fuse, my favourite band, had remained untouched since high school. Though I was now in college, my room felt frozen in time, a teenage sanctuary I hadn¡¯t yet outgrown. The polaroid pictures caught my eye next, pinned randomly around the posters and clustered near my desk. Mama had found her old camera buried in the garage when I was seventeen and handed it to Val, Iah and I to play with. We spent the summer capturing everything and nothing at all. I smiled softly, my gaze drifting to the bookshelf where the camera now sat, a reminder of those carefree days. I need to get the gang back together. Since college started, we¡¯d drifted apart. Val was off somewhere in Italy with her modeling career, and Iah... she was up north, studying history at the University of Averon, the same place her father, Professor Aldea, taught. Meanwhile, I stayed here in Waterow, studying Business Administration at the City College of Averon, thanks to a scholarship I secured which helped my parents immensely. Life changed dramatically going from high school to college. My smile faded. We were always different, and deep down, I knew were headed down separate paths. My gaze settled on a certain polaroid in particular. It was of the three of us: Val, tall and slender, her blonde hair perfectly swept, posing like the supermodel she practically was. Then there was Iah, short and curvy, her wild curls bouncing as she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, making fun of Val¡¯s pose. I chuckled to myself, remembering how furious Val had been when the photo developed. She gave Iah such a bollocking, but Iah just giggled and bounced around, completely unfazed.


    And there I was in the middle, my bright red hair and freckles standing out against my slightly tanned skin, laughing so hard because I¡¯d caught Iah¡¯s expression just before Mama snapped the picture.


    Shifting on the bed, I listened to the familiar creak of its wooden frame. All the furniture around me ¨C the desk, bookshelf, dresser ¨C had once been someone else¡¯s cast-offs before Dad brought them back to life. He loved finding forgotten things, often dragging home pieces he thought had potential, restoring them in the garage until they were good as new. He¡¯d always joke about finding hidden stories in the nicks and dents, imagining who might have used them before. For a moment, I wished I had that same knack for mending things.


    But I wasn¡¯t like him. All I could do was capture broken things in sketches, the dead figure from my dreams haunting me with every stroke of charcoal. Sketching offered some relief, like a painkiller dulling the ache. Still, I could never tell my parents. How could they help when I wasn¡¯t even sure what was wrong? They¡¯d think I was losing my mind, and I wasn¡¯t ready for that conversation. So, when the fatigue hit and my visions bled into reality, I would just say I¡¯d pulled another all-nighter studying. I wasn¡¯t sure how long I could keep up the act before they intervened.


    Closing my eyes, I saw the star again. I began sketching it next, letting the lines flow naturally onto the page. The soft glow of my lamp lit the drawings, making them feel even more haunting, as if they might move of their own accord. My thoughts drifted back to that day at the art store... to Carter.


    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. He was sweet, and I was an awkward mess. Typical.


    The sharp trill of my phone jolted me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and grinned, answering with a playful, ¡°Heeeeeyyy you!¡±


    A warm, familiar voice replied, ¡°Heeeeyyyy, it¡¯s me.¡±


    Carter.


    I closed my sketchbook, running my fingers over the rough cover as I leaned back against the wall on my bed. ¡°I was just thinking about you... about how far we¡¯ve come since that day in the art store.¡±


    There was a brief pause before he laughed softly. ¡°You mean that day I almost let you walk away without asking you out? Definitely not my finest moment, but I¡¯m forever grateful you said yes.¡±

 Chapter 2: Elena

    I giggled and replied, ¡°So am I!¡±


    I remembered how he had sprinted out of the shop as I walked around the corner. When he reached me, I thought I¡¯d left one of my items behind or, worse, that the payment hadn¡¯t gone through.


    ¡°Oh no, did the payment not go through? Wait, let me check my bank,¡± I said, pulling out my phone to open the bank app in a panic.


    He placed his hand over my phone and shook his head. ¡°No, I, uh, just wanted to see if you¡¯d like to get a coffee some time?¡±


    Oh. OH! My face must have radiated disbelief, and he immediately looked dejected.


    ¡°No!¡± I hurriedly replied, waving my hands and shaking my head. Then I stupidly realised, ¡°I mean, yes! That would be awesome.¡±


    Girl, you act like you¡¯ve never dated before. Well, sure, I¡¯d been on dates and been with guys, but Carter was different. Most of the guys who had shown interest in me were either science nerds, super serious about their careers, or¡ªlet¡¯s not forget¡ªthe guy who had a phobia of cheese. Don¡¯t ask. None of them looked like they belonged on the football team and had a genuine appreciation for art.


    He sighed in relief and flashed me a smile that sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. Oh, deep, impure thoughts began to swirl in my head. I was jumping way too far ahead. All it would take is one date, and I might never see this guy again¡ªlet alone have him in my bed.


    We exchanged numbers and made plans to meet. Afterward, Carter told me he¡¯d gotten quite an earful from his manager when he walked back in, but he was just too excited to care.


    ¡°So, I happened to be driving by and wondered if I could pop up?¡± His voice pulled me from my memories, and I could almost picture the mischievous smile on his face. My core fluttered at the thought. Sure, I was fatigued from the dream, but I wasn¡¯t dead. Actually, his timing was perfect. My dad was at his fantasy football group until late, and my mama was visiting my aunt, so she wouldn¡¯t be back until morning. After the stress of my dreams, I could use some TLC¡ªand Carter was just the person to deliver it.


    I decided to play coy. ¡°Oh¡­I don¡¯t know. I was planning to finish this extremely exciting report for class. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure I can pull myself away from it.¡± I rolled my eyes glancing over at the closed laptop on my desk.


    I grinned, hearing his chuckle through the phone. ¡°I think you¡¯re working way too hard and need a relaxing break,¡± he replied, his voice dropping to that husky tone.


    Cute was over. The moment he used that voice, I was done for. I matched his sultriness. ¡°Well then, what are you waiting for?¡±


    My breathing quickened, my heart racing with excitement. I clenched my thighs in anticipation. He had a habit of doing this to me¡ªjust by lowering his voice.


    ¡°Only for you to say the word.¡± His voice somehow got even lower. Damn.


    ¡°Word,¡± I said, smiling.


    ¡°See you soon.¡± His deep voice was full of promise.


    I then heard the motor of his car pulling up to the house. Carter¡¯s car was a black 1967 Chevrolet Camaro¡ª you could hear that thing from a mile away. I cringed, thinking the neighbours definitely knew he was coming over. But the hornier version of me didn¡¯t care. In fact, a wave of desire hit me at the sound of the engine¡¯s roar.


    Then reality kicked in. One, I was still holding my sketchbook. And two, I looked like a mess! My red hair was in a messy ponytail, and I was lounging in my green jumper and leggings¡ªnot exactly sexy.


    I frantically shoved my sketchbook into the top drawer of my desk. Then, I tore the scrunchie out of my hair, pulled off my leggings and socks, and threw them into the hamper. I adjusted my cable-knit jumper so it barely covered my ass. Ok, I could work with this.


    Sure, Carter had seen me in all kinds of states of dress, but I was still in that stage where I wanted to make his blood boil. I heard a knock at the door, and my heart skipped a beat.


    Alright, keep calm, girl. You act like this, and it¡¯ll be over in a flash. It always was. Our sessions were quick because we couldn¡¯t keep our cool. For once, I would¡¯ve liked it slow, but something about him always made me rush into it.


    I hurried down the carpeted steps, careful not to trip, then paused at the door. I fluffed my hair, pulled my jumper down to reveal my freckled shoulders, and exhaled. When I opened the door, the early December air hit me, cold and sharp. There he was, standing effortlessly cool in a brown leather jacket over a grey button-down shirt and a black t-shirt that hugged his chest in all the right ways. His dark blue jeans did the same for his legs, and I caught myself sucking in my lower lip as I looked him up and down.


    He was doing the same, his eyes hungry as they travelled over me. I saw him linger on my messy red hair brushing my bare freckled shoulders, then move down to my legs and exposed feet.


    Oh yeah, we had a winner.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I said, trying to mask my breathlessness.


    ¡°Hi,¡± he replied, all cool and collected.


    We paused for a second, and then suddenly, I was in his arms, my legs wrapped around him as he kissed me like we hadn¡¯t seen each other in weeks. Truth be told, we¡¯d had lunch just a couple of days ago, but at this stage in the relationship, every second counted. His mouth on mine drove me wild as he walked forward and kicked the door shut without breaking the kiss. When his lips found my neck, I sighed and began to grind against him. He smiled against my skin and, still carrying me, started up the stairs. Damn football player, always showing off.


    Once in my bedroom, he kicked the door shut again and set me down. I immediately started pulling off his brown jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, but I left the black t-shirt for him. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he kicked off his boots and pulled the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, revealing his bare chest. His muscular arms¡ªstrong enough to carry me effortlessly¡ªmade it clear how fit he was. That always left me in awe.


    A guy like him, honestly, was into me.


    A lot of the guys I had been with were skinny, semi-muscular, or even had a bit of curves, but don¡¯t think of me as shallow. This was just the first time I¡¯d been with someone built like him, and damned if I wasn¡¯t going to enjoy it!


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t objectify me,¡± he joked as he noticed me staring. I giggled, stood up, and kissed him, my hands now going into that messy blonde hair. His hands found the edge of my jumper and pulled it down, exposing my black bra. He then pulled down the other sleeve, and my arms came free as the jumper dropped to the floor. I also had on plain black panties. If I had more time, I would have put on that sexy lacy teal set I bought at the lingerie store. I began to undo his denims, feeling his already hardened bulge. He then reached around and unpinned my bra just like that! I tried not to think about how much practice he must have had previously to do that. It annoyed and excited me at the same time. My breasts were now exposed, and his hands were immediately on them. I moaned as I finally set him free, and his denims fell to the floor. His mouth was back on mine as I stroked his cock and slightly tugged it in a ¡°come hither¡± way, and he followed me to the bed. My legs hit the edge of my bed, and I pulled him, and he was on top of me. Still kissing, of course; we had mastered that now. I cannot tell you how many times we¡¯ve had small accidents, such as bonked foreheads, once a poked eye, and our teeth hitting each other as well. We always laughed it off, and that was why I was so comfortable with him.


    He stopped kissing me and slowly pulled off my panties and I got really excited, thinking maybe he might do something different? We were three months into the relationship, and we hadn¡¯t really explored different options yet. I was kind of afraid to mention it as I didn¡¯t want to scare him off. Sure, I had read a couple of smutty books or watched some adult films, and I¡¯d always managed my expectations of fantasy vs. reality, but I still wanted to try. I was just afraid he would be offended. I managed to avoid feeling disappointed when his hands went back up to my breasts after my panties were fully off. Oh well, maybe next time?


    He kissed me some more and then whispered, ¡°Do you think we could try without a condom this time?¡± Ah, not this again. I was on the pill, but I was also the result of the pill failing, so I was always extra cautious. I know, I know, but I just didn¡¯t want to take the risk.


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    ¡°Be a good boy scout and wrap up,¡± I joked back, glancing at my nightstand where I kept the condoms. He rolled his eyes but respected my request (like the times before) and reached over to rummage through the drawer. That¡¯s when I got a glimpse of his tattoo on the back of his left shoulder. I was always intrigued by it¡ªa long skinny dagger with a sun and a moon. The sun was behind the hilt, with sharp rays extending outward. The crescent moon looked like it was stabbed by the dagger. I always wanted to ask him about it. I definitely had the urge to sketch it, too. He then found the package, pulling my thoughts back to the action at hand. I watched him pull the condom on and then he spread my legs wider and inserted himself into me. I moaned at the first connection. This was the part he was always good at. His hands raised both of my arms over my head, and he gripped them tight as he thrust into me. Each thrust brought me closer to my climax and I lifted my breasts against him, I wanted him to do something with them, but I was still met with no response as he continued moving in and out of me. My needs soon started to disappear as my climax built and I was close to the edge. I then moaned ¡°Don¡¯t stop¡± and he continued the pace he was at. Thank goodness, I have said that before to other guys and they changed pace! My body buckled underneath him as my orgasm came naturally and he suddenly groaned signalling he had come as well.


    We lay there, naked, in post coital bliss. My head rested on his chest, and I listened to his steady breathing, feeling content. I started to trace idle patterns on his bare skin absentmindedly.


    ¡°So... how was work?¡± I asked softly, looking up at him. His eyes slid toward me, and he grinned.


    ¡°Ah, the princess wishes to know how us peasants labour to keep the kingdom of Averon thriving?¡±


    I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, but my lips betrayed me. ¡°Spare me the theatrics, Carter. You make it sound like you¡¯re out there tilling the fields.¡±


    Carter chuckled, leaning in to kiss my forehead as I rested my chin on his chest. ¡°Hey, managing art supplies is serious business. You have no idea how many paintbrushes I¡¯ve saved from a tragic end.¡±


    I groaned, burying my face against his chest. ¡°My hero,¡± I said sarcastically.


    He pretended not to hear and launched into his nerdy rant. ¡°Indeed,¡± he said, puffing out his chest with exaggerated pride. ¡°While the fair red-headed princess of Averon City enjoys her days of leisure¡ªno work, just endless coffee and notebooks¡ªI, Sir Carter Dawson... which, not gonna lie, that title sounds amazing... labour under the weight of a cruel and unforgiving register, and a manager named Milton.¡±


    I snorted and smiled. Carter was a bit of a nerd¡ªhe watched more fantasy and supernatural movies than I could keep up with. The first one we watched together was a vampire romance. I thought it was a love story. He thought it was just a horror movie.


    I leaned on his chest, my face resting in my palm. ¡°Right, because college is such a breeze. No stress at all. Just me lounging in my royal tower without a care in the world.¡±


    He let out a dramatic sigh, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. ¡°Alas, I¡¯ll never know the freedom of a royal education. If only I had such noble privileges, I could stroll through the halls of academia, free from the burden of earning my keep.¡±


    I poked his side, laughing. ¡°You know I¡¯m under scholarship and can¡¯t work. Besides, you¡¯d be bored out of your mind without your little art-store escapades.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but boredom is the price we pay for a life of ease,¡± he said, turning to give me one of those serious, dramatic looks that always made me crack up. He placed his palm dramatically on my face. ¡°But worry not, my love. I shall gladly bear the mantle of peasantry so you may live as the princess you were born to be.¡±


    I giggled, shaking my head free of his grasp. ¡°You goofy ass.¡±


    ¡°And you love it,¡± he grinned, leaning in to kiss my lips.


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. He always made me laugh with his ridiculous antics. ¡°Yeah, I do,¡± I admitted with a smile.


    He sighed contentedly and wrapped his arm around me again before actually answering my question. ¡°Work was the same as always. You know how it goes¡ªartsy types come in, grab their supplies, and get out.¡±


    He kissed the top of my head, his chest vibrating with a quiet chuckle.


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± I raised an eyebrow, catching his playful grin.


    ¡°You¡¯re one of them, aren¡¯t you? Came in, grabbed your stuff, and vanished. Haven¡¯t seen any of your sketches since,¡± he teased lightly, though I could hear the genuine curiosity beneath his words.


    I felt my cheeks flush. My sketchbook was something I wasn¡¯t ready to share¡ªnot even with Iah or Val, and they knew everything about me.


    ¡°Oh, the idea didn¡¯t work out, Carter. I¡¯m not as good as you think,¡± I lied, hoping he¡¯d let it drop.


    He glanced down at me, his expression softening. ¡°I don¡¯t buy that. I am sure you are good. Besides, it doesn¡¯t have to be perfect. Maybe I could take a look sometime? No pressure, just...¡± He trailed off, waiting but not pushing.


    My chest tightened with nerves. I needed to change the subject¡ªfast. Shifting closer, I leaned into him with a smile. ¡°I¡¯ve barely had time to breathe, let alone draw. The lecturers are killing us with assignments. And honestly, I¡¯d rather focus on this right now,¡± I said, pressing my lips against his, distracting him with kisses. I then climbed on top of him and started to sway a bit against him. He groaned, the tension breaking, and I knew the topic was successfully avoided¡ªfor now.


    I was in the void again. Its stillness always sent a shiver down my spine. I didn¡¯t want to be here¡ªespecially not again. I was just getting over the last one. Two dreams in one night was not a good sign. As always, I waited in the inky darkness, bracing myself for whatever was coming. Then I saw it, and my breath caught: the same image again, but this time, it wasn¡¯t etched on skin or hidden in shadows. Carter¡¯s tattoo blazed white in front of me. The sharp rays of the sun, the dagger, and the crescent moon stabbed through its centre.


    It pulsed with a blinding white light, flashing over and over, and I had to shield my eyes, but it didn¡¯t help. The brightness pierced through my hands. And then, just as quickly, the burst star exploded into my vision.


    I jolted awake, eyes snapping open, my heart racing. I glanced around, disoriented. Carter¡¯s side of the bed was empty. When I looked up, I spotted him standing by my desk. He was half-dressed, his jeans back on, but still shirtless. His phone¡¯s screen glowed in the dim light, the likely source of the brightness from my dream.


    As I focused more on where he stood, a sense of unease crept over me. Why was he there? My gaze flicked to the drawer where I kept my sketchbook¡ªit was still shut. I exhaled in relief.


    ¡°Carter?¡± I called softly, still feeling unsettled. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I yawned, my voice groggy. ¡°What time is it?¡±


    He looked over, startled. ¡°Ah, sorry I woke you. My group chat was going nuts over a trailer launch,¡± he said, walking over and leaning down to kiss me. ¡°I didn¡¯t want the light to wake you, so I moved out of bed.¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Aw, that¡¯s so thoughtful.¡± I kissed him back, and he pulled away slightly.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost ten-thirty,¡± he said, glancing at his phone. ¡°I figured I should head out before your dad gets back.¡±


    I pouted, a bit disappointed. ¡°Boo, I wish you could stay all night. I¡¯ve always wondered what it¡¯d be like to actually sleep next to you.¡±


    He chuckled, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Trust me, you wouldn¡¯t get much sleep..." I bit my lower lip. Smooth. He smiled at my reaction and kissed my forehead.


    ¡°How about we grab coffee tomorrow and take a walk in Silverwood Park? Just you, me, and some overstimulated squirrels...¡±


    I barked a laugh. Silverwood Park was only a ten-minute drive from my house, but it was easily the most beautiful spot in Averon. No matter the season¡ªrain, snow, or shine¡ªthe park always looked breathtaking. But the squirrels? They were a little crazy.


    I remembered one time, a single squirrel had darted out in front of us, nearly causing us to crash into each other. Then, a whole gang of them followed, chasing after it like they were in some sort of woodland race. They circled the nearest tree, spiraled up, and then disappeared into the forest. Carter and I were convinced they had a caffeine addiction from sipping leftover coffee people threw in the trash. Honestly, that was an awesome third date¡ªwe couldn¡¯t stop laughing at the sight.


    ¡°Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!¡± I squealed, hugging him tight. But then reality hit me, and I sighed. ¡°Could we do it after lunch? I need more time to work on my project. I¡¯m going to be that boring person, tapping away on my laptop on a Saturday night.¡± I waved my finger in the air dramatically, adding a sarcastic ¡°woooo.¡±


    Carter laughed, shaking his head. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with wanting to do well in college, El.¡±Ah, El. My half-Spanish self never really loved that nickname, but Carter managed to make it sound cute, so I let it slide. Still, I rolled my eyes at his remark.


    "Ugh, You sound like my parents!" I teased, giving his chest a playful shove.


    "Well, someone has to be the grown-up in this relationship. I¡¯m older, so it¡¯s clearly my job," he grinned.


    I cocked an eyebrow at him. "By one month... and 14 days!"


    "Precisely!" he replied with that addictive smile. All I could do was smile back and shake my head. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll bring the coffee tomorrow to bribe you out of hermit mode."


    I sighed dramatically. "Fine, you win this time, Dawson. Coffee and a walk it is."


    He stood up, smoothing back his hair, and began gathering his things. I watched him move around the room, getting dressed. I really did love having him around¡ªfun, teasing, and always able to make me laugh. Plus, his bear hugs never failed to cheer me up.


    Once he was fully dressed, he came over and gave me a goodbye kiss.


    "See you tomorrow, El," he promised.


    "See you tomorrow," I replied.


    As the front door clicked shut and the low growl of his Camaro faded into the distance, I noticed the room was rather empty. I hugged my knees and my mind wandered back to the dream. His tattoo. It had to mean something. The way it flashed at me in the void, erratic and without rhythm, felt urgent¡ªlike a warning. The image popped back into my head, almost begging me to draw it.


    I climbed out of bed and opened the drawer, pulling out my sketchbook. Grabbing my white charcoal pencil, I dove back under the covers to keep warm, flipping to the next blank page. I began sketching, letting the familiar sound of charcoal gliding across paper soothe my nerves.


    First, I started with the dagger. The hilt was jagged, with sharp points flaring out, giving it an almost aggressive appearance. I remembered how the blade was split¡ªone side a striking white, the other a deep black. The contrast felt symbolic, though I couldn¡¯t quite grasp its meaning. There was something unsettling about it, but I pushed the feeling aside and kept drawing.


    Next came the sun. Its rays were sharp and uneven, radiating from behind the handle of the dagger. Suns usually symbolised warmth, light, goodness. Maybe this was some kind of heroic emblem? I thought back to how Carter liked medieval fantasy and comic books¡ªcould this be a symbol from his favourite hero? It seemed plausible, but the image still felt... wrong somehow.


    I finished the sun and moved on to the upside-down crescent moon. My frown deepened as I sketched the jagged wound where the dagger pierced the moon, the blade splitting it all the way through. Light versus darkness? But the moon had never seemed evil to me. As I traced the harsh lines, a strange feeling crept in¡ªI felt bad for the moon. Why? It was just a tattoo, after all... right?

 Chapter 3: Elena

    I slept dreamlessly for once¡ªno trip to the void, no strange visions. The smell of coffee and my mam¨¢¡¯s cooking drifted into my room, confirming she must have gotten home early. I reached over to my nightstand, grabbing my phone. I squinted as the lock screen photo of Carter and me brightened before my eyes adjusted. Just after nine. Perfect. I definitely needed the rest after last night¡¯s dreams and Carter¡¯s unexpected visit.


    I smiled, thinking about the evening we¡¯d shared, until his tattoo flashed in my mind, pulling me back to that second dream. I shook it off. Not now. I sat up, pulling my covers aside as a chill swept over me. I slipped into the fluffy grey robe I¡¯d tossed over my chair the night before and padded over to the window, tugging the curtains open. The yard stretched out below, bare and brown. I scowled. ¡°Come on already,¡± I whispered, annoyed at the snowless scene.


    Snow had a way of transforming everything, softening the world in white. In Waterow, it blanketed everything in a quiet beauty, but in the city? That was a different story. On the north side, the snow was stunning at first but quickly dissolved into grey, filthy slush. Across the River Draeg, the south side became even gloomier and drearier in the winter. There, the snow never stayed white, turning brown and patchy almost as soon as it fell. Yet, despite its grit, parts of the south side held an undeniable appeal¡ªbohemian artists, musicians, and the best nightlife around all gathered near the infamous Club Dusk.


    Club Dusk: so famous and infamous that both rich and poor lined up for hours just to get in. No VIP entry, no guest lists. If you wanted in, you had to stand in line. I¡¯d always wanted to go, to hear that legendary music and taste their mind-blowing cocktails. Just thinking about it made me sigh.


    ¡°Elena, ?el desayuno est¨¢ listo! Get down here, silly girl!¡± I heard my mam¨¢¡¯s warm, slightly raspy voice call up from the kitchen. Ay, she really knew how to make me feel like I was five years old again. I grabbed my phone and left my room in a hurry; my mam¨¢ was not the type to call again¡­


    I entered the kitchen, which was bright and painted in rich yellows, decorated with our family memorabilia. The thousands of magnets on the fridge from our travels and souvenir gifts from friends practically covered it from top to bottom. My mam¨¢, who was pouring coffee at the kitchen counter, was slightly shorter than me, with a warm, inviting presence. She had a soft, round face framed by her short, dark brown hair, which had streaks of silver peeking through, and she wore stylish glasses that accentuated her expressive brown eyes. We both shared the same nose, but her skin was so much more tanned than mine¡ªsomething I always envied when we went somewhere sunny. I glanced over at the cause of my fair skin; my dad was sitting at the table, reading the paper. His fiery red hair, a vibrant shade like mine but lightened by age to a coppery hue, had started to show some whispers of white. He had a strong jawline and deep-set green eyes that twinkled with mischief. One time, I joked that his hair reminded me of a fox; he replied, wiggling his eyebrows, ¡°I¡¯m foxy!¡± Both my mam¨¢ and I rolled our eyes and giggled.


    ¡°Morning, mam¨¢! Morning, dad!¡± I called out as I sat down at the table. I looked down at the spread and salivated. She had made pan tostado with huevos rotos and a side of bacon!


    ¡°Mmmm, mam¨¢, ?eres la mejor!¡± I reached for the fork, but a spatula smacked my hand. I cried out in shock and looked up at my mam¨¢, who was staring down at me. Yup, five-year-old me ran for the hills. I knew that look all too well. ¡°Did you finish your project like you promised, ni?a?¡±


    I hesitated while holding my smacked hand; it did hurt, but it felt like a reality check. My heart was racing as I looked up at her and glanced at my dad, whose eyes were peeking out from behind the newspaper. ¡°Uh, well, sort of¡­¡± I said quietly, knowing full well I hadn¡¯t done a thing.


    ¡°I was just¡­ um, struggling on one bit.¡±


    ¡°Mmm-hmm.¡± My mam¨¢ crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised. ¡°Struggling, huh? You mean you were with Carter?¡± My jaw dropped stupidly, and my cheeks flushed.


    ¡°What? Noooo!¡± I protested a little too loudly. ¡°I was¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me, Elena,¡± she cut in, a knowing smirk on her lips. ¡°The neighbours saw him come over. They commented on the fabulousness of his car as your father collected the morning paper.¡±


    We both looked at my dad, and his face matched his hair. Traitor¡­ I softly glared at him. But then I sighed; no, it wasn¡¯t his fault¡ªit was mine. My stomach dropped as I softly replied, ¡°Okay, I didn¡¯t finish it.¡±


    ¡°See? That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?¡± She leaned in, her tone shifting to something more serious. ¡°You know you¡¯re almost twenty-one, right? You need to take your responsibilities seriously. I worry about you getting sidetracked, mi amor.¡± This wasn¡¯t the first time I had heard this. When I started dating Carter, my grades dipped, and this project was supposed to be my comeback to pick up my grades, but I honestly found the subject¡ªno, the whole degree¡ªinsufferable! I couldn¡¯t tell her that.


    When I didn¡¯t respond, she sighed and said in a softer tone, ¡°We just want you to have a bright future, Elena.¡± She looked over at my dad, and he nodded in agreement. I could tell there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. ¡°You¡¯re so smart, but you won¡¯t get anywhere if you don¡¯t apply yourself.¡±


    ¡°I promise I will finish it,¡± I said quickly, feeling the weight of both their gazes. ¡°I just hit a bit of a mental block and got distracted. I plan to work on it straight after breakfast.¡±


    My mam¨¢''s expression softened, but a hint of worry crept into her tone. ¡°Just remember, mi amor, we will always be here to help you, but you have to meet us halfway.¡±


    I nodded, forcing a smile. The weight of their expectations felt heavy on me¡ªalmost suffocating. What else could I do? I could never quite figure out what I wanted or fight for it.


    This was a bit too heavy for breakfast. My dad must have sensed it; he cleared his throat and set the newspaper on the table. ¡°Uh, when I was driving last night, I saw a particularly decent cabinet someone callously threw away.¡± My eyes brightened, and I looked over at my mam¨¢, who was setting down coffee cups. Oh, this was going to be good.


    My mam¨¢ rolled her eyes, looking at him over her glasses. ¡°Ay, Tobias, tell me you didn¡¯t bring home another piece of basura again!¡± He grinned wider.


    ¡°Yes, but that wasn¡¯t the best part, Maria!¡± Suddenly, he seemed to grow younger, his face lighting up with excitement. ¡°So, there I was, struggling to get the thing onto Murray¡±¡ªthe name of my dad¡¯s truck; he loved naming his cars¡ª¡°and one of the drawers slid out and fell, making quite the noise. What I saw will shock and amaze you!¡±


    I groaned. ¡°Dad, you sound like one of those clickbait posts.¡± I took a sip of my coffee, and my mam¨¢ followed suit, needing it to settle her nerves. Our garage was already overflowing with Dad¡¯s projects.


    ¡°Inside the drawers were old recipe books! Maria, you need to see these. They are books our parents would have used.¡± I exchanged a knowing look with my mam¨¢, and we both started laughing.


    ¡°What?¡± My dad looked deflated, and we both sobered at his expression. Aw, crap. My mam¨¢ smiled and said, ¡°Okay, let¡¯s see them.¡± He jumped up from the table, and I took the opportunity to start eating. When your mam¨¢ makes a good hot breakfast, you take every chance you can get!


    Dad rushed back, plopping a stack of old recipe books down on the table. The plates and cups rattled as he set them down. He opened the first book and showed it to my mam¨¢. ¡°Look, they belonged to an older person, perhaps our parents¡¯ generation, who really loved to cook.¡±


    We leaned in as he flipped through the pages, revealing recipes that looked forty to fifty years old, complete with handwriting in the margins. It was actually kind of cool.


    I glanced at my dad; his gaze seemed distant. ¡°They probably wanted to cook professionally but couldn¡¯t due to home life demands. They would have loved to go to cooking school.¡±


    My mam¨¢ raised an eyebrow. ¡°How could you possibly know that, Tobias?¡±


    He blinked, a smile spreading across his face. ¡°Just a guess. Sometimes I like to make up stories about the owners of the things I find.¡± He shrugged his shoulders, and my mam¨¢ smirked and went back to reading the recipe books.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    After breakfast, I washed the dishes and quickly tidied up the kitchen. I ran up the stairs, still in my pyjamas, and plopped into my chair, hyping myself up to finish this project. I got this. I can totally do this. I¡¯m a superstar at project management.


    But as the laptop screen brightened, my mood darkened. The empty page of my Word document stared back at me, full of high expectations. Ay, I¡¯m in for a struggle. No, I argued with myself. You can do this. Just write it!


    That was probably the best advice I could have given myself¡ªjust write it. I spent a solid hour and a half working through the darn thing. There were probably some good bits, but a lot of rubbish. Still, I figured I could always go back and edit.


    I glanced at the clock: it was eleven-thirty. Carter was coming by after twelve. I was already looking forward to the coffee. I stood, stretching, and headed to my dresser. I decided on a white long-sleeve top, a black mini skirt, and spotty tights. Definitely going to look cute with my boots, I thought.


    After dressing, I tried to tame my wild waves, tying my hair into a side ponytail, carefully pulling out a few strands to frame my face. That¡¯s when I realized I hadn¡¯t told my parents Carter was coming over, and I panicked. I glanced up at the eye on my Clarity poster. I always used it to keep me grounded.


    I took a deep breath, exhaled, and steeled myself for chaos.


    ¡°Mam¨¢!¡± I called as I exited my room. Even though she was downstairs in the study with the door shut, the woman had ears like a hawk. She heard me and shouted back loudly enough for me to hear, "?Qu¨¦?"


    I smirked and moved downstairs. I knocked on the door before opening it. My mam¨¢ looked up from her scrapbook and adjusted her glasses.


    ¡°Carter is coming by,¡± I started, and I saw her mouth open in protest. ¡°Wait, hear me out. It¡¯s just for an hour, we¡¯re going for a walk in Silverwood Park. I¡¯ve finished my first draft, I just need to go back to it with fresh eyes.¡±


    She didn¡¯t say anything, and suddenly I was reduced to that little girl who needed to ask for permission. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and shrugged. ¡°Go on, do what you want.¡±


    I gawked at her. ¡°Seriously? No lecture? No words of caution? Nothing?¡± I waved my hand around with a smirk.


    "?Ay, ni?a!" she exclaimed, then smiled. ¡°You should know by now what I mean, without me having to say it.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, you usually say it with a look.¡± I joked. She raised an eyebrow sternly at me.


    ¡°That¡¯s the one!¡± I laughed.


    "?Ni?a traviesa!" she said, exasperated. True, I could be pretty cheeky with her sometimes. I leaned over and gave her a hug.


    ¡°I promise, I¡¯ll get this project done. I¡¯m still learning to balance things. I can get swept away by different moments.¡± I broke the hug, and she gave me a knowing smile.


    ¡°Precisely how we ended up with you a little early.¡±


    And there it was¡ªthe words of caution.


    ¡°Mam¨¢, ugh, ?para!¡± I groaned. She snorted and waved me away.


    ¡°Go, go, have fun. I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    I smiled and closed the door behind me. My phone vibrated, and I saw a text from Carter saying he¡¯d be here in five minutes. I walked to the front door, laced up my boots, shrugged on my khaki-colored coat, and wrapped a cream scarf around my neck.


    As I walked out the front door, I headed around to the garage and saw my dad working away on his latest project. He had on headphones and was dancing around as he sanded the cabinet. I giggled and waved to get his attention.


    He pulled out one earbud and squinted his eye to hear me better. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m going for a walk in Silverwood with Carter. I managed to get quite a bit done in the last hour and a half.¡±


    My dad smiled and replied, ¡°Did you tell your mom?¡±


    I nodded, and he shook his head, chuckling. ¡°All good, then. Have fun and watch out for wolves.¡±


    He gave me that faraway look again, and I raised my eyebrows in confusion.


    ¡°Dad, there haven¡¯t been any wolves in that park for over 50 years.¡±


    He shrugged, popped his earbud back in, and went back to dancing and sanding.


    I shook my head, smiling. What a goof.


    It was then I heard the roaring purr of Carter¡¯s car coming down the street. I stepped to the curb and waited as my man pulled up. He stopped perfectly, the door right in front of me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the back of the seats¡ªalmost like he was ready for me to slide in next to him.


    I opened the door, and old rock music blasted out. He turned it down, motioned for me to get in, and said, ¡°Your chariot, m¡¯lady.¡±


    I laughed and slid in. Once he had his arm around me, he leaned in for a kiss. I kept it a little chaste¡ªbecause even though my dad wouldn¡¯t spy on me, I didn¡¯t want him to catch me in full make-out mode. Carter glanced up and saw my dad still working away. He smirked, understanding.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go then, shall we?¡± I nodded, and we drove off.


    We¡¯d only been driving for about five minutes, but there was already this electric current building between us. I caught Carter sneaking glances at my legs more than a few times, especially where my skirt rode up just a little, showing a hint of thigh. By the seventh time our eyes met, he cleared his throat, looking almost bashful.


    ¡°You know,¡± he started, shooting me a look with a small grin, ¡°last night was¡­ pretty amazing.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t resist. I leaned in a little closer, matching his smirk. ¡°Oh really?¡± I teased. ¡°Which part?¡±


    Carter shifted in his seat, his eyes darting out the window. Then, with a low mumble, he replied, ¡°When¡­ you were on top.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, letting the surprise play on my face, then reached down and unlaced one of my boots, watching his gaze flick down, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Mmmm,¡± I said, untying the other boot now, ¡°and what exactly was so amazing about that?¡±


    I saw we¡¯d arrived at the park, but Carter took a different turn down a more secluded path.


    ¡°Well, uh¡­ you just looked so damn hot.¡± His voice dropped as he glanced over, and I felt a spark of anticipation as we ventured deeper into the quiet, wooded area. Message received.


    Smiling, I slowly unzipped my jacket, slipping it off along with my scarf. ¡°Mmm, anything else?¡± I asked, raising a brow as he pulled onto an empty trail where we saw no one else around. I tugged my skirt just a touch higher, sliding my thumbs to the edge of my tights. Lifting myself slightly, I began to ease them down¡ªtights, and all. Carter swallowed hard, his eyes darkening as he swerved onto a hidden path winding into the forest. The car stopped abruptly, and he adjusted his seat before reaching for me. With a quick pull, I was suddenly on his lap, his arms wrapping around me in the enclosed, thrilling space. We started to passionately kiss and I felt his hands undo the belt of his jeans and pull them down. I used my hand to slide him inside me and I rode him as hard as I could. I glanced around the winter-dead forest, its bare branches laced with mist. Even though it was the middle of the day, the shadows here felt thick and private, wrapping us in a hidden embrace. No one could see us, but the thrill of getting caught sent a rush through me. I wanted Carter to see how open I was to a little adventure, to spark something bold between us. Maybe, just maybe, it would invite him to experiment with me too. I just wanted more.


    I felt him grab my ass, he stared at me darkly as I placed my hands on his solid chest, moving up and down around him. We were both breathing so hard and I started to moan in pleasure. The gradual burn of my climax came out as a moan which drove him over the edge. He grabbed my hair hard and started to thrust in his seat while kissing me passionately, he was going to meet me there. Oh god this felt so good, this was what I wanted, I tilted my head back ready to explode-


    ¡°Oh, before I forget, here¡¯s your coffee, cappuccino, right?¡±


    And like that, I was yanked back into reality and blinking at a cup of coffee that had been placed in front of my face. We were just arriving at Silverwood and I took the cup of coffee from Carter and smiled.


    ¡°Thanks, I needed this,¡± I replied, trying to keep my voice normal. Yeah, I also needed a cold shower. Perhaps when we get out the cold air will help.


    ¡°Where were you just there?¡± Carter asked, smirking.


    I flushed a little. ¡°Oh, just this silly project. I finished the first draft, but I need to go back and re-read and edit it, get out all the gumph.¡±


    Carter raised an eyebrow. ¡°Gumph?¡±


    I nodded confidently. ¡°Yeah, you know, all the filler and nonsense.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°I think you mean ¡®guff,¡¯ right?¡±


    I shrugged, feigning innocence. ¡°Well, I like gumph better.¡± Carter snorted.


    ¡°You really do need the coffee. If you¡¯re making up words, I worry what your project looks like,¡± he said, grinning.


    I glared at him, biting my cheek to stop myself from smiling.


    We arrived at the park, and Carter found a parking spot. The roar of his engine died, and we were engulfed in silence. Carter turned to me, a shy smile playing on his face.


    ¡°Hey, I wanted to give you something now. I know it¡¯s not your birthday for a couple of days, but I couldn¡¯t really resist.¡± I smiled back as he shifted in his seat, leaning over to rummage in the back. A moment later, he pulled out a gift wrapped in green Christmas paper with a gold ribbon.


    ¡°Happy birthday, El,¡± he said, handing it to me, his gaze expectant.


    I took the gift, feeling a flutter in my chest as I began undoing the wrapping. It was roughly A2 size, maybe a little smaller. When I finally pulled the item free, I gasped.


    It was me.


    I stared at the portrait, my fingers trembling. It was me, but different¡ªmore ethereal. Carter had captured every detail: the way my red hair caught the light, the depth in my eyes. Behind me, the Silverwood Forest stretched in soft golden light, its trees dark and looming, almost alive.


    I stood at the forefront, my expression quiet yet strong, as if frozen in a moment of peace. The colours blended perfectly¡ªthe greens of the trees, the soft shades of my hair and skin. It wasn¡¯t just a portrait; it was a scene that seemed to breathe.


    My breath caught. The detail was incredible. Carter had managed to capture me in a way I¡¯d never seen before¡ªand it was beautiful.


    ¡°Oh, Carter,¡± I started, but the words caught in my throat as I kept staring at the painting, unable to pull my eyes away from the delicate detail.


    ¡°Ah, you don¡¯t like it,¡± he said, his voice faltering, and he quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed.


    ¡°No, no,¡± I rushed to say, my voice soft but sincere. ¡°I love it. No one¡¯s ever done a portrait of me before, and it¡¯s surreal seeing myself through your eyes. It¡¯s... it¡¯s beautiful, Carter.¡± My voice wavered slightly, the lump in my throat growing. I blinked back the unexpected tears.


    I¡¯d seen some of Carter¡¯s art before¡ªmostly futuristic stuff, robots and mech suits, all that. But this? This was something entirely different. It was soft, romantic, and full of emotion in a way I never imagined he could paint.


    With the portrait in hand, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him deeply. He kissed me back with equal passion, and when we finally pulled apart, our foreheads resting together, he whispered, ¡°You make me so happy, El.¡±


    I smiled, brushing my nose against his, and said, ¡°Same, but about you.¡± His chuckle vibrated against my lips, and I couldn¡¯t help but laugh too.

 Chapter 4: Elena

    Carter and I got out of his black Camaro and were greeted with the sharp, cold air. My breath left smoky tendrils in the grey mist of the December afternoon. Silverwood Park stretched out before us; a quiet haven tucked away from the city¡¯s chaos. Ancient trees with trunks thick as castle walls loomed overhead, their branches intertwining like cathedral arches, filtering the waning light into soft, dappled pools on the forest floor. The air smelled of damp moss and earthy decay, with a hint of crisp pine riding the gentle winter breeze. I felt a huge calm come over me. I really loved this place. Even though it was mid-day, the forest ahead of us looked like it was basked in darkness. It always excited me how mystical this forest felt. My dad would always take me for walks in all the seasons. When I was little, I would hop onto his shoulders and let the low branches tickle my hands. He would always tell me fairytales about the forest. I found out later that he usually made these up just to get a rise out of me. I smiled fondly at the memories, and then I remembered what he said about the wolves before I left and chuckled.


    Carter looked over at me with a raised eyebrow in confusion. I waved my hand and shook my head.


    ¡°My dad,¡± I replied with an explanation. ¡°He told me to watch out for wolves on our walk and I only just remembered the story he told me about the shape-changers.¡±


    Carter smiled bemusedly and asked, ¡°What was the story?¡±


    ¡°It was basically a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood. Only, in my dad¡¯s version, Red was named for her red hair¡±¡ªI pointed to my own¡ª¡°because he thought he was being clever. She wanders into the forest one day after seeing what she thinks is a little boy who¡¯s lost. She follows him... only to discover he can turn into a wolf that walks on two legs.¡±


    ¡°So, werewolves?¡± I might have imagined it, but Carter¡¯s voice sounded a bit on edge. I looked over at him, and he was staring up ahead at the large-trunked trees.


    ¡°Huh, I asked my dad the same question. No, not werewolves, shape-changers, I think he said. They were able to change at will. Werewolves have no choice in the matter.¡± He then looked up at me, smiling.


    ¡°Touche, not werewolves then.¡±


    I smiled back and cleared my throat. ¡°Anyways, it was just a silly story. He always did remakes of the classics, usually starring me or my friends. Snow White saved the prince, and Goldilocks helped Hansel and Gretel escape from the evil witch. He was so good at telling these stories I honestly have vivid images in my head, like I saw them on screen.¡±


    Carter chuckled and replied, ¡°Sounds it. So, what happened in your story, lil¡¯ Red?¡±


    I smirked and thought back to the story. ¡°So... lil¡¯ Red followed the boy into the forest. She saw him transform and gasped so loud that he turned around and saw her. The boy thought she was the prettiest human he¡¯d ever seen, and he went to approach her.¡±


    Carter raised his eyebrows. I went on, ¡°She got scared and ran. Before the boy could catch up to her, she bumped into the local huntsman, who took her back home.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so a happy ending then?¡± Carter sounded relieved.


    ¡°Well, when she told the huntsman what the boy was, he decided the boy must be evil and wanted to hunt him down. But Lil¡¯ Red realised she didn¡¯t want the boy to be hurt¡ªshe was in awe of him and thought he was beautiful. So, she lied about where she¡¯d seen him and sent the huntsman in the wrong direction. He never found the boy. After that, Lil¡¯ Red decided it was best to stay away from the forest, just in case she ever led the huntsman back to him.¡±


    ¡°Wait, it ended like that?¡±


    I smiled and replied, ¡°I also asked the same question. He said he would tell me the rest later.¡±


    Carter¡¯s shoulders slouched in disappointment. ¡°Wow, your old man left you hanging all these years!¡±


    I laughed and shook my head. ¡°To be fair, I was always kind of wary of that story. It nearly made me afraid of Silverwood,¡± I said, looking at the trees around me, hearing the leaves crunching beneath my feet, and the mist rolling through the distance. ¡°I never wanted to feel that way about the forest. Now that my dad reminded me of the story, I¡¯ll need to ask him how it truly ends.¡± I smiled up at Carter. ¡°Hmm,¡± was all he replied. He looked distracted, a bit deep in thought. I¡¯d seen that look before, when he¡¯s focused on something¡ªusually his drawings. That brought me back to his painting. The memory of it flashed in front of my eyes, and for some reason, I felt uncomfortable. I wondered what his process was when he painted it. It looked like me, but it felt too perfect somehow, almost like he¡¯d improved the way I look¡ªand there was my revelation. I decided to ask him about it to help break the silence.


    ¡°So, about that painting¡­¡± I smiled up at him. That broke his train of thought, and he quickly glanced at me.


    ¡°Did you not like it? Tell me honestly.¡± His words hung in the cool air, his tone casual, but I caught the flicker of something deeper. I shook my head quickly. I didn¡¯t want to lie but I also didn¡¯t want to hurt his feelings either. ¡°No, I loved it. I mean, I didn¡¯t expect¡­ it to look so much like me.¡±


    He laughed softly, brushing his fingers through his blond hair. ¡°That was the point, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know, but you didn¡¯t just paint me. You painted... me.¡± I emphasised the word while motioning to all of me, hoping he¡¯d understand. ¡°The waves in my hair, the way it falls naturally¡ªI¡¯ve always wished it would just stay straight. But seeing it like that made me¡­ change my mind. And my nose¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything bad about your nose.¡± Carter cut me off, his tone firm but kind. ¡°It¡¯s perfect. You¡¯re perfect, El.¡±


    I looked away, my cheeks flushing. I could never get used to someone calling me perfect. It just never sat right with me. ¡°You made me look perfect,¡± I murmured. ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s hard to wrap my head around.¡±


    He nudged me gently with his elbow, his grin playful, though his eyes carried something heavier. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because I see you how you are, not how you think you are.¡± He grabbed me in a bear hug and kissed me on the lips. I enjoyed the warmth in the cold air. ¡°But hey, I showed you my masterpiece. Now it¡¯s your turn.¡±


    I stiffened, his teasing words turning serious as his gaze landed on me expectantly. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Your sketches.¡± His voice was light, but his posture betrayed an intensity that made my stomach knot. ¡°C¡¯mon, I know you still do it. You had white charcoal on your top last night, El. I showed you art that I do that no one ever sees¡±.


    I exhaled and pulled myself away from his grasp. I wrapped my arms defensively around myself. ¡°Carter, that¡¯s different.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± His brows furrowed, and I could tell this wasn¡¯t going to end as easily as I hoped. ¡°You saw my painting. You know how personal that was. It¡¯s only fair.¡±


    His words were gentle, but they pressed on a raw nerve. ¡°No,¡± I said firmly, taking a step back. ¡°It¡¯s not fair. You wanted to share that painting with me. I didn¡¯t ask. And my sketches aren¡¯t... they¡¯re not like that.¡±


    ¡°What are they like, then?¡± His voice softened, but there was an edge to it¡ªhe was pushing me.


    ¡°They¡¯re private.¡± The words came out sharper than I intended, but I held my ground.


    Carter¡¯s expression flickered, something dark and unreadable passing over his features. He sighed and looked away, the silence between us stretching. ¡°I just want to know you better, Elena,¡± he said finally, his voice low and almost regretful.


    But there was something in his tone that made me uneasy. I couldn¡¯t understand why he was so insistent on these sketches. They were my dreams¡ªsomething deeply personal that I wasn¡¯t ready to talk about.


    ¡°You do know me, Carter. That¡¯s just a small part of me I¡¯m not ready to share. My sketches don¡¯t define who I am as a person. I need you to please back off about this.¡± My tone was firm, but Carter just looked down at the ground, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. He was angry.


    Suddenly, I felt very small. I didn¡¯t like this. This was confrontation, and I couldn¡¯t handle confrontation. His anger and disappointment was suffocating me, drowning me, and I had to get away from it.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Take me home, please,¡± I said quietly. He looked up, surprised.


    ¡°El¡­¡±


    I shook my head, ¡°I don¡¯t want to argue with you.¡± He sighed.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he replied.


    We turned and walked back to the car, having barely spent ten minutes in the park. I kept my arms wrapped around me as we walked, the cold air not doing much to numb the tension in my chest. Why was he so hell-bent on these sketches? He claimed he wanted to know me better, but he needed to respect my boundaries.


    These dreams were already pushing me to the edge. The symbols, the stranger, the dead figure¡ªit all felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn¡¯t talk about them. If I did, I knew he would just run and leave me. What kind of person draws a dead figure and is considered normal? No. I had to stand firm on this. I needed to figure out what these dreams meant before I could even try to explain them to anyone.


    We reached his car in silence. The loud sound of the car doors shutting seemed to echo in the stillness. I didn¡¯t look at him as he turned on the engine, and he never said a word as he pulled away from the forest I loved¡ªnow tainted by our argument.


    After ten agonising minutes of silence, Carter pulled up to my house, and I heard him engage the handbrake. I reached for the door handle, but his hand caught mine. Surprised, I looked up to find his face softened by regret, though his brows remained furrowed. I stared into those beautiful blue eyes, and my heart ached with hurt.


    ¡°El, please, I¡¯m sorry. Don¡¯t think I¡¯m being a dick here. I¡¯m just so crazy about you. I want to know what¡¯s going on in that head of yours, y¡¯know?¡±


    He leaned down and grabbed the portrait that had fallen to the car floor. My heart sank when I realised I¡¯d almost left it behind. Guilt prickled at me as he handed it back. I tried to smile, but it felt hollow.


    ¡°I know,¡± I said softly, taking the portrait from him. ¡°But I¡¯m just not ready for that yet. Just give me time.¡±


    It was a lie¡ªa small one, but a lie all the same.


    Carter exhaled deeply and leaned back, studying me. His shoulders sagged as he let out another sigh. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to push, you know. I just... I like knowing you, all of you. But I¡¯ll back off if that¡¯s what you need.¡±


    I glanced down at the portrait in my lap. My reflection in the car¡¯s side mirror caught my eye¡ªtwo very different Elenas staring back at me.


    The Elena in the portrait looked hopeful, radiant, and full of dreams¡ªan Elena untouched by the chaos and dread that haunted me every night. She didn¡¯t feel real, not anymore. But I wanted to be her, even if I didn¡¯t know how.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said at last, meaning it this time.


    Carter gave me a small, sad smile. ¡°Anytime, El.¡± He leaned in and kissed me¡ªa tentative, fleeting peck. It felt distant, more of a truce than a promise. I couldn¡¯t commit to more; the argument still loomed too heavily.


    I opened the car door and stepped out, clutching the portrait tightly to my chest. The cold afternoon air bit at my cheeks as I walked up the path to my front door. I could feel his eyes on me the whole way, but I didn¡¯t look back.


    Only when the roar of his engine finally faded into the distance did I pause at the door and glance back, finding no trace of his car. Tears pricked my eyes and then spilled over. How will I ever get past this? I wondered bitterly. Was it just the idea of me as some shy artist that even drew him in?


    How could I ever explain that I didn¡¯t sketch to be good at it or for fun? It was a compulsion¡ªa desperate way to quiet the visions that plagued my dreams. I loathed the void, hated everything about it. All it gave me was stress and anxiety. I took a shaky breath and glanced down at the portrait again. That was a mistake. All I saw was the girl I could never be: perfect. I wasn¡¯t the perfect daughter, girlfriend, or even friend. I hadn¡¯t exactly reached out to Iah and Val, either. I looked away from the portrait, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. My parents couldn¡¯t see me like this. I took a few deep breaths, waving my hands in front of my eyes to dry them.


    Alright, I told myself, let¡¯s get through the day, and maybe I can start figuring this out.


    The warmth of the house washed over me as I stepped inside, grateful to be out of the cold. I propped the portrait against the coat stand and shrugged off my jacket. With my back to the living room, I sensed eyes on me¡ªa prickling awareness that made the hairs on my neck stand on end.


    ¡°SURPRISE!¡± familiar voices shouted. ¡°Happy Birthday!¡±


    I jumped and turned, and there they were: Val, looking effortlessly tall and stylish as ever, and Iah, short and bursting with energy. I clapped my hands over my mouth, holding back a squeal of joy, and ran over, pulling them into a huge hug. I had to blink back tears¡ªwell, more tears¡ªbecause I¡¯d missed them so much. So, I just let them fall. At least they¡¯d hide the tears I¡¯d shed before. When I finally pulled back, the three of us stood there, hands linked.


    ¡°Oh my god, you guys! What are you doing here?¡± I wiped my eyes as Val and Iah gave me a long look.


    ¡°Elena, you alright?¡± Iah asked, her grey eyes peering at me through her thick glasses. She always looked at me like she could see right through me. I nodded, grinning.


    ¡°I am now. I missed you both so much,¡± I said, sniffling a little as I glanced between them. They exchanged glances, and I saw the guilt written all over their faces.


    ¡°I told you we should¡¯ve kept in touch more,¡± Val said, her voice smooth and drawn out. Iah sighed and looked down at her boots.


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re sorry, Elena. Val was off galivanting in Italy with some fancy people.¡± Val glared at Iah, which Iah ignored. ¡°My dad has me working overtime with him on some dig site outside what used to be Babylon. A mass grave was found, and it¡¯s caused quite a buzz¡ª¡±


    ¡°Anyways,¡± Val interrupted, ¡°what Iah was trying to say is that we realised we¡¯d been too distant and decided to make plans for your birthday. I misjudged when I tried to keep it on the downlow, thanks to this one¡¯s inexcusable large mouth.¡± Val smirked at Iah.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to ruin the surprise,¡± Iah said, shrugging with a wicked smile. Val shook her head and huffed, giving me a knowing look. I chuckled, sharing the look with her¡ªeveryone knew Iah was terrible at keeping secrets, let alone surprises. Honestly, I was just so glad they were here¡ªand that they had valid excuses for being busy. Heck, I wasn¡¯t off the hook either. Ever since meeting Carter, my messages had gotten shorter and shorter. He was quite the distraction.


    ¡°So,¡± I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at them with a playful grin. ¡°Are you going to tell me what you two locas are up to, or do I have to guess?¡±


    I took a second to really look at them. Both Iah and Val still had their jackets on, but their faces and hairstyles were bold, almost goth-inspired. They both grinned, and before Iah could even open her mouth, Val beat her to it.


    ¡°We are taking you out!¡± Val declared.


    Iah shot her a look, clearly miffed that she didn¡¯t get to spill the news.


    ¡°Out where?¡± I asked, glancing between them. They exchanged knowing glances and did a quick look around, obviously checking for my parents. Good question¡ªwhere was my mam¨¢ and dad?


    ¡°Just out. That¡¯s the surprise.¡± Iah gave me a conspiratorial wink, as if expecting my mam¨¢ to pop out from the shadows. Right on cue, she appeared with coffees in hand.


    ¡°Elena! You¡¯re home so early. Everything ok, mi amor?¡± She placed the cups on the coffee table and walked up to me. My mam¨¢¡¯s tone held a hint of concern as she slid into her classic defensive stance, ready to protect at the first sign of trouble.


    ¡°Si, mam¨¢, everything¡¯s fine. I just wanted a quick walk so I could get back to work, but lo and behold, the troublemakers appeared!¡± I laughed, watching her expression soften with relief.


    ¡°Woah¡­ the boy¡¯s got it bad,¡± I heard Iah say behind me. I spun around to see her holding the portrait of me, examining it with a raised eyebrow. Aw crap. Val sidled over to take a closer look too, both of them glancing between the canvas and me, back to the canvas, and then at me again. My patience started to wear thin.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough! Yes, Carter painted a portrait of me. Now give it here.¡± My mam¨¢, ever curious, bounded over to get a look for herself, tilting her head as she studied it.


    ¡°He got your nose wrong,¡± she declared, totally deadpan.


    ¡°Mam¨¢!¡± I hissed, horrified. But now that my mam¨¢ had started it, Iah and Val jumped right in.


    ¡°No, no, I think Mrs J is on to something,¡± Iah said, nodding seriously. ¡°And the hair¡ªway too perfect. Where are the split ends? The random crimp that shows up from pulling her hair in frustration? These are crucial Elena qualities!¡±


    Val nodded, chiming in, ¡°Absolutely. The expression¡¯s too calm. Where¡¯s the little wrinkle on her forehead when she¡¯s thinking hard?¡± She pinched the space above her eyebrows as if to demonstrate.


    I scoffed, storming over to reclaim the painting, but Val was too quick, snatching it from Iah¡¯s hands and holding it up, just out of reach, with a smirk.


    ¡°Ugh, you have got to be kidding me! Give it back!¡± I felt like I was back in grade school. Only it was Iah who had pulled stunts like this before¡ªonce, when I got my first bra, she¡¯d paraded it around my room, chanting, ¡°Elena has graduated from FlatChest High!¡±


    ¡°Elena, calm it.¡± Val raised a hand to stop me from leaping up to grab it. ¡°Honestly, he did a good job. A little too good. Yes, it¡¯s you, and you¡¯re beautiful, but it feels a bit¡­ polished.¡± I stopped reaching and looked at Val¡¯s serious violet eyes. She meant it. Iah and my mam¨¢ nodded in agreement.


    ¡°It¡¯s like you¡¯ve been photoshopped,¡± Iah added. ¡°Where are your freckles?¡± That threw me. I hadn¡¯t noticed. I looked up at the portrait again. Sure enough, no freckles. How could he miss that? Freckles were me. I sighed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say. He just painted me the way he saw me, I guess.¡± I shrugged, and Val finally lowered the painting. They exchanged glances, then my mam¨¢ broke the silence.


    ¡°It¡¯s a lovely portrait, Elena. He did a good job, and I¡¯m sure he simply forgot the freckles.¡± She took the painting from Val and handed it to me, then leaned over to kiss my forehead. ¡°Listen, I know the girls are taking you out tonight, so have fun.¡± She smiled, and I felt my spirits lift a little. ¡°But finish the project tomorrow.¡± She added, her tone leaving no room for argument.


    ¡°Yes, mam¨¢,¡± I replied dutifully.


    ¡°Oh, and your father and I will be going out tonight too¡ªcourtesy of Val.¡± She raised an eyebrow at Val, who gave a nod.


    ¡°It was a bribe. I booked them a table at Lotus,¡± Val replied, as if it were no big deal.


    Iah and I gasped. Lotus was the place to go on Averon¡¯s North Side. You had to book months in advance! Val must¡¯ve used her model connections to score that one.


    ¡°No way! That place costs more than my tuition! No offense, Mrs. J, but you guys can¡¯t afford it!¡± Iah exclaimed.


    My mam¨¢ smirked. Thank god she thought that was funny. ¡°Val took care of the bill.¡± She said it casually and then headed out of the room. I looked at Val, who just shrugged with a smirk that said, ¡°Because I can.¡±


    ¡°Show-off,¡± Iah grumbled, making a face. Val stuck her tongue out in response.


    Iah giggled, then grabbed my hand, and before I knew it, we were upstairs in my room, door shut in under five seconds.


    ¡°Alright, now that the coast is clear (and let¡¯s hope your mom isn¡¯t eavesdropping),¡± Iah squealed, practically vibrating with excitement, ¡°we can finally reveal where we¡¯re going tonight!¡±


    ¡°Alright, out with it!¡± I was buzzing with impatience.


    ¡°Brace yourself, Elena,¡± she announced, grinning, ¡°because we¡¯re taking you to¡­ Club Dusk.¡±

 Chapter 5: Darien

    My footsteps rang hollow against the hardwood stage, the sound sharp and unforgiving in the emptiness. At the centre sat a lone stool beneath a spotlight, its stark beam slicing through the darkness. Even during the day, Club Dusk remained dark, dank, and dreary. Located on the south side of the city, across the river¡ªknown to the locals as the Underworld of Averon¡ªit was a place of grit-stained cobblestones and the muffled murmurs of illicit dealings. The absence of windows only amplified its gloom, a feature that felt less like a design flaw and more like a deliberate statement.


    This old, converted theatre, once known as the Dusk Theatre, was unique for being built underground. In its heyday, it was infamous for hosting burlesque shows and provocative plays that dared to offend the fragile sensibilities of the day. Rebels whispered their conspiracies here, while society¡¯s outcasts danced in the flickering light of its chandeliers. The Dusk welcomed people of all orientations, offering a rare sanctuary where judgment had no place.


    Now, that sanctuary had evolved into something darker, wilder, and undeniably alluring. The club pulsed with its own peculiar lifeblood, feeding off the chaos of its patrons and echoing the history of the Underworld itself.


    Stepping through its doors was like descending into another world¡ªa den of indulgence and seduction where restraint withered, and primal instincts thrived. The mundane, grey lives left behind at the surface were nothing more than shadowy echoes, swallowed by the pulsing, dark heart of Dusk. Here, masks weren¡¯t just removed; they were shattered, replaced with faces painted in desire and shadows.


    They could be whoever they wanted, do whatever they desired, and revel in their most audacious fantasies without fear of judgment. Many a sin I have seen, and many I will continue to see... and take part in.


    Club Dusk wasn¡¯t just a nightclub. It was liberation. It was carnage. It was home.


    This has always been a vampire¡¯s domain¡ªa carefully curated illusion where humans and their desperate little fantasies play into our hands. They walk in thinking they¡¯re guests, but really, they¡¯re the feast. Blood is the price of entry, and for most, it¡¯s a bargain.


    I¡¯ve seen it all¡ªthe ecstasy in their eyes when they let the darkness claim them. They think they¡¯re the ones in control. It¡¯s laughable, really. But who am I to judge? I¡¯ve succumbed to it myself more times than I care to count, drunk on the high of their fleeting, desperate lives. Maybe I¡¯m no better than they are.


    I sat down on the lone stool, the bright light encapsulating me in a warm glow. The rest of the club was shrouded in darkness, leaving me alone¡ªa welcome silence and a cold reminder. Yes, I am brooding, a classic clich¨¦. Why shouldn¡¯t I be? Am I not the monster that haunts people¡¯s dreams? The one mothers warn their babes about? I smirked as I tuned my guitar, my fingers gliding up its neck. It was smooth under my touch, comfortably familiar. I hadn¡¯t picked up this particular guitar in over twenty years, but I dust it off every now and then. Tonight, it called to me from its case, begging to be played.


    After tuning it to my satisfaction, I did a test strum. Deep. Full. And when I pressed my pick to the strings, it rang out with a hollow ache. A shiver of pleasure ran through me at the sweet sound, and I began to play, letting the melody unfurl.


    I let my fingers glide over the strings as the song echoed across the emptiness of the club. It was haunting and unresolved. It always left me wanting, like a puzzle missing its last damn piece. A song I could never finish, no matter how hard I tried. I wrote it while holed up in my father¡¯s old mansion, forgotten by everyone who lived there, including him. Hours turned into days as I tried to wrangle the notes into submission, my stubbornness outlasting any sense of reason. My sister would hover at the edges of my exile, sometimes listening, sometimes leaving without a word. She never interrupted; at least she had the sense to know better. I strummed more passionately this time, the anger pouring through my fingers. The climax of the song building, just on the verge of release¡ªright before I could strum the final, cursed chord that always led nowhere. And then, a voice broke through the quiet, slicing the tension in half.


    ¡°A wee bit broody today, aren¡¯t we, Daz?¡±


    I sighed, letting my arm fall over the guitar. Squinting into the shadows, my eyes shifted until they found Bastian¡ªowner, bartender, DJ of the club¡ªsmirking as he strolled into view, two kegs slung under each arm. He set them down behind the bar and made his way over to the stage, his long golden-blonde hair tied back in its usual low ponytail.


    Despite his pirate-like appearance, he¡¯d been an innkeeper in his human life, which explained the strength in his barrel-hauling arms. At six foot two, he wore a white fitted button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The snug fabric hinted at his strength. Dark jeans and a single silver hoop in his left ear completed his roguish air, giving him the look of someone who could charm anyone¡ªor break them in half.


    As he got closer, I could feel his gaze on me, reading the scowl on my face.


    ¡°What¡¯re you growling for?¡± he asked, sitting on the edge of the stage and turning toward me.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t resist ruining my moment, could you?¡± I said bitterly.


    Bastian shrugged, his grin widening. ¡°Ruining? I thought I was helping. You looked like you were about to combust.¡±


    I was getting irritated. ¡°I thought maybe I might get it this time.¡± I dragged a hand through my thick, jet-black curls, the strands falling back into their usual wild chaos as I tried to shake off my frustration.


    Bastian raised an eyebrow, smirking. ¡°That¡¯s what you always say. Maybe you¡¯re just not meant to finish the song. Maybe it¡¯s cursed.¡±


    His words struck a nerve, as they always did. No¡ªI refused to believe that. This song meant something to me. I could feel it in my bones. I stared at him, biting back a retort.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I muttered, brushing it off with a sniff.


    Bastian leaned back, his smirk softening into something annoyingly close to concern.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had two minutes of freedom, Darien. Maybe instead of sulking onstage, you could... I don¡¯t know... celebrate? Or does brooding count as a party for you?¡±


    I looked up from the guitar, meeting his dark blue eyes. My enhanced sight caught the faint gold flecks shimmering within them¡ªa small clue to his vampire lineage, though he was veilbound. A chuckle slipped from me, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly.


    ¡°It was a long time coming, Bast,¡± I admitted, running my thumb over the guitar strings¡ªa little habit I¡¯d picked up to calm my anger. ¡°It still feels surreal, like the fight hasn¡¯t faded from my mind. If Valda hadn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Valda.¡± Bastian interrupted, his voice sharp enough to cut. He scoffed, bitterness dripping from the sound. ¡°I¡¯ll never understand the hold she has on your father.¡±


    The name always stirred something bitter in me. My jaw tightened as memories flooded back. My twin sister. His favourite. Born minutes before me, but it might as well have been years in his eyes. Valda was everything he wanted¡ª a polished prot¨¦g¨¦ who basked in his approval and shouldered the weight of his ambitions. Meanwhile, I lingered in the shadows, an afterthought.


    Shaking off the bitterness, I forced a smirk. ¡°The same stranglehold she has over you and this establishment,¡± I said, gesturing around the dark, empty space. ¡°She never lets you forget that she helped finance the place.¡±


    Bastian¡¯s expression darkened, his eyes darting to the shadows at the back of the club, toward the Velvet Rooms. ¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered, the words weighed down with disdain. ¡°The witch made me promise she could do whatever the hell she wanted here. So far, I haven¡¯t regretted it, but I can¡¯t shake the feeling I will someday.¡±


    I leaned back, letting the guitar rest against my chest. ¡°Bast, she¡¯s harmless, really. Queen of Dusk¡ªit¡¯s just her latest distraction. A way to kill time until she takes the Elder title,¡± I said, shrugging it off.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be a harmless distraction when you realize she¡¯s rehearsing for world domination.¡±


    That pulled a genuine laugh out of me. The idea was absurd. My sister wasn¡¯t vying for power beyond our kind¡ªat least, not yet. She was being groomed to take over as Elder for our clan, Sange Varcolac¡ªthe Blood Wolf¡ªa title that carried more responsibility than glory.


    ¡°She¡¯s not rehearsing for anything beyond our clan,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°And believe me, I don¡¯t envy her. Elder might sound grand, but it¡¯s a headache wrapped in centuries of tradition.¡±


    Bastian gave me a long, hard look, then let out a dry, mocking chuckle. ¡°Just wait and see. I¡¯m not crazy. That witch is coming for us all¡­¡±


    His words hung in the air, heavy with foreboding, but I refused to dwell on them. I shook my head, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. ¡°You¡¯re something, Bast,¡± was all I could muster in reply.


    He stood, brushing his hands against his jeans as if wiping off invisible dust. ¡°Yeah, well, something is better than nothing,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°When can I expect the rest of the pack to show up?¡±


    My band, Howl by Night, loved their wolf-themed puns¡ªbecause of course, we were a strange pack in more ways than one. A pack of misfits with parent issues, rebellion in our veins, and music as our only tether to sanity.


    ¡°In an hour or so, for sound check. Who else is playing tonight?¡±


    Bastian flipped me off as he walked away, his voice echoing faintly over his shoulder. ¡°Surprise yourself.¡±


    I smirked. He¡¯s lucky I like his arrogant ass.


    I moved my guitar back to my lap and started strumming an acoustic version of Moonlit Night by Howl by Night. It was a heavy rock piece, but today, I decided to tone it down into more of a ballad to practice my vocals. My voice echoed across the stage as I tried to drown out all the aggravating issues my family had caused.


    ¡°She sits so fine, like him in kind.


    Holding on tight, fallen tricks behind.


    To be beside her love, joyfully we plan.


    Consequence unfolds, cordial warmth began.¡±


    I could feel Bast¡¯s eyes on me as I played. People always stopped to listen. It was one of the perks of having a mother from the Dahlia Roja clan¡ªa group known for their mastery in the creative arts¡ªmusic, art, theatrics¡ªand for being deadly assassins. My mother was a singer, a siren. When she sang, she brought the world to its knees. I inherited that from her. When I sang, I brought out the hidden desires of both humans and vampires alike. I was the perfect addition to Club Dusk, and Bastian had no hesitation in asking me to form a band.


    It didn¡¯t take long to gather my pack: Lyra on keyboard, Maxence on bass, Creed on drums, and Selene, who was an addition tonight for our little show. She¡¯s a dancer and burlesque performer, and I planned to have a lot of fun with her to really get the show going. The crowd will go wild.


    ¡°His soft white hand, in the moonlit night,


    Felt beaten, pleasure, oh what a sight!


    The seven vices on his mind,


    Her smile saying, she will be mine.¡±


    Ah, I remember the argument with my bandmates over the last line. I was adamant that it should be ¡°She will be thine,¡± but they insisted on turning it into ¡°mine¡± because they thought it sounded more modern. I wasn¡¯t backing down, though, not until Bast¡ªof course¡ªburst out laughing, cutting off the damn song at practice. He asked if we were planning to break out lutes and wear puffy collars too. I shot him a glare, my eyes practically sparking with anger as he smirked and replied:


    ¡°Don¡¯t flash your pretty purple eyes at me, Daz. We¡¯re both old enough to know you can¡¯t drag that language back no matter how hard you try. Come on, get with the 21st century.¡±


    That was when I finally caved, and we changed it. I guess I was just trying to hold on to a little piece of my culture from the late 1700s. But I suppose that¡¯s not meant to be anymore.


    I strummed the final verse of the song, and my voice picked up in crescendo.


    ¡°She sits with him, forever bound.


    In the echoes of love, a sweet sound.


    Holding on tight, through thick and thin.


    Their love story, a tale to begin.¡±


    I strummed the final chord, the sound reverberating through the empty hall, and that¡¯s when I heard it¡ªthe unmistakable clack of heels against the stone floor. From the shadows, a figure emerged, moving with an unsettling combination of grace and purpose. Valda.


    Her ebony hair, always pin-straight and flawless, mimicked mine only in colour. It framed her sculpted face, with cheekbones any girl would kill for. Her lips, painted in her signature dark red, were full and lush¡ªthe kind of lips that could disarm you, make you forget how venomous her words truly were. Her eyes, a pale shade of purple, glowed faintly in the dim light, unnervingly similar to mine, yet different in every way that mattered. While my gaze held heat¡ªfrustration, rebellion¡ªhers was cold, detached, calculating, as if she lived her life perpetually five steps ahead of everyone else. Despite being twins, we were as different as night and day. She was ghostly pale, her appearance almost ethereal, while I carried a touch of warmth in my skin¡ªa subtle but constant reminder of how far apart our paths had diverged.


    When Valda entered a room, she didn¡¯t just command attention¡ªshe owned it, no questions asked. It wasn¡¯t just her beauty, though that certainly helped; it was the quiet, lethal confidence she exuded. She didn¡¯t need to speak to remind you she could destroy you¡ªwhether with a single word, a cutting look, or a dagger to the heart.


    Those were the traits necessary to lead the Sange Varcolac clan as its Elder. Like the wolf of our emblem, the clan valued solidarity above all else but struck with ruthless efficiency when provoked. That was Valda in a nutshell¡ªdeadly, unrelenting, and proud of it.


    And me? I chose to run with my own pack. You can imagine how well that announcement went over.


    She stopped right in front of the stage, her gaze locking on mine as she crossed her arms.


    Valda¡¯s outfit was striking, as always. She wore a crisp white shirt, the buttons undone just enough to reveal a fitted black corset beneath that hugged her form. The shirt¡¯s sleeves were rolled up effortlessly, as if she didn¡¯t need to try to look that good¡ªshe just did. Tucked into high-waisted black trousers that accentuated her long legs, the ensemble gave her an air of timeless sophistication, balanced with an edge of danger.


    Her earrings added the final, mesmerizing touch to her look. Dangling elegantly, the design featured an upside-down crescent moon in silver at the top, its delicate curve contrasting the sharp edges of the obsidian-like pendants below. At first glance, the pendants appeared black, but as the light shifted, they revealed a dark blue glow¡ªsubtle, enchanting, and undeniably otherworldly.


    The earrings were a gift from our mother, one of the few things we had in common. While she wore both proudly, I stuck to just the one in my right ear. A small rebellion, perhaps, but it felt like enough.


    I sighed but continued to play a small tune as she stared at me.


    ¡°To what do I owe this displeasure?¡± I said, feigning boredom.


    She ignored the sarcasm and replied, ¡°Daddy wishes to remind you that your presence is still required at the New Year¡¯s Ball.¡±


    Valda actually looked bored, almost as if she already knew my response and thought this was a waste of her time.


    ¡°You can tell Daddy¡±¡ªI mocked her cruelly¡ª¡°to go fuck himself.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow, a small Mona Lisa smirk appearing on her face.


    ¡°You know as well as I do, Darien, that this was part of the deal. You get to fly the nest, sow your oats, or brood away in your broken-down palace only if you attend family events. All to show face that we are, in fact, a happy family,¡± she said, smiling sweetly before raising her voice to mimic a game show host.


    I kept playing my guitar, annoyance and rage building in equal measure.


    Yeah, that was the deal¡ªthe only one Valda could strike for my freedom. I loathed our father to no end and honestly wished I never had to see him again.


    ¡°So we are in agreement, despite the expletive¡ªyou are going. Good. Moving on.¡± She uncrossed her arms and approached the stage, all business.


    ¡°What else could you possibly want now?¡± I had actually stopped playing this time.


    ¡°It¡¯s not what I want, brother. It¡¯s what you need. You are broodier than usual, and honestly, I know it¡¯s near time you were fed.¡± She looked me up and down with a critical eye.


    Yes, it was my night to feed. We need to feed every three days to retain our strength. Although we can consume normal food, it is blood that truly sustains us. It allows us to use our gifts and minor incantations.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll find some nourishment tonight after the gig. I have enough strength to perform.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, you won¡¯t have time. Let me help you find someone truly delectable. I have a gift for these things. Do you have a preference?¡±


    I stared at her for a while. This was coming out of nowhere. She was offering to go on the hunt for my prey? We use that term loosely. We don¡¯t kill, but we do have specific tastes. Blood can sing to us.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right? Why are you doing this?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Listen, I¡¯m on your side. I want you to enjoy your life and not be shackled. If it means healing and bringing our family back together, I¡¯m all for it. Just allow me to be nice to my little brother for once.¡±


    I rolled my eyes.


    ¡°Valda, I¡¯m literally two minutes younger than you. Give it a rest.¡±


    She crossed her arms and scowled at me with a commanding air. There it was¡ªthe true Valda face.


    ¡°Fine. Go and find the perfect prey if that will make you happy.¡± I motioned for her to leave, hoping to end the conversation. To be honest, I wanted to be rid of her and get lost in my music. I was growing annoyed with all the interruptions.


    ¡°Perfect.¡± She replied curtly. She quickly turned, and I caught sight of her black heels, the shiny red soles glaring back at me as she walked away.


    To my surprise, Bastian started walking toward me. He nodded once to Valda, and she did the same. He reached the stage and handed me a glass of whiskey.


    ¡°For your troubles of having to deal with the witch,¡± he said with a smirk.


    I downed it and handed the glass back to him, then remembered something.


    ¡°Oh yeah, did you set up the hoist for Selene?¡±


    Bastian groaned and scowled up at me.


    ¡°Selene? Seriously? Are you trying to start a massive orgy in here, Daz?¡±


    I smiled wolfishly at him.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, Bast, when have I ever done that?¡± I chuckled.


    ¡°Oh, let me count the times, bastard. It¡¯s me who has to do the clean-up. Did you ever think about that?¡±


    I rolled my eyes. No, I never did. My gigs were my domain. I created the atmosphere of sin. I was in control of people¡¯s lust. I was the one always giving them¡­ more.