The Reflection of the Flames

Ah the comfort after pain, how I adore it.
Happiness is a butterfly after all.
Enjoy XX

Her soul lay in unexpected tranquility, calm as a leaf after a tempest; shaky, damaged, yet somehow still alive. Her fury had dissipated, leaving only remnants of devastation in its wake. There was no purpose in fighting, in raging against him, or in feeling guilt over any of this.
There was nothing left of her; every spell, every emotion, every thought now belonged to him. He had marked her.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, as if she could disappear beneath its folds. Her voice was hoarse from crying, her eyes and nose red; she was a mess. She sniffed, trying to find her voice in the silent room. Was he inside her mind now? Could he hear her thoughts, shape them, manipulate her emotions?

There were countless questions,

but they no longer mattered,

they shouldn't.

Every emotion within her had been drained; she had exhausted them all. Sometimes, there was a peculiar feeling, the emptiness after a profound hurt, it was strange, yet oddly comforting. The noise in her head had vanished with that strange feeling.

Her mind was silent.

No guilt, no rage, no regret, no pain.

She was numb.

She heard the door open but did not look up. It was obvious it was him; she could sense his presence through their bond. It was a relief that she was hiding beneath the blanket; she was not ready to face him, and perhaps never would be.

But when had he ever cared about her feelings? He approached the bed, his steps echoing in the room, causing her to clutch the blanket tighter. He sat beside her. His presence was overwhelming; she kept her gaze fixed on the blanket.

"Leave," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She could feel his gaze harden. "Please." Yet, he did not listen. Instead, he gently removed the blanket from her face and tilted her chin up. His movements were careful. She parted her lips, but she was too exhausted to speak. "Darcy knew," she managed. "Darcy knew she was alive, didn't she?"

He should have been satisfied that she was still seeking information from him, that she needed him despite everything. But his mood soured immediately. His eyes darkened. "This is what you ask?" he snapped, his voice powerful enough to shatter walls. "The first thing you ask me is about your pathetic fairy friend?" He gripped her chin tightly. "Right after I've claimed you?"

She said nothing, merely shrugged, her indifference almost causing him to falter. She wanted to ask, 'Why is it important? You've already won everything you desired.' But she remained silent, too weary to start a conversation. After all, he could read her mind.

His gaze penetrated her, searching for any trace of defiance or emotion. The silence between them grew heavy, laden with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

In an instant, his lips were on hers, fervent and consuming. He kissed her with an intensity that felt like a battle, a fierce clash of desire. There was nothing gentle about his touch; his kiss was a declaration of his victory.

Bloom's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the raw power of his embrace. Each movement was filled with a nearly primal hunger, a desperate need she couldn't fully grasp. She tried to push him away, but his grip tightened, pulling her closer. It was a struggle, a storm of emotions, and yet beneath the fierce intensity, there was an undeniable connection that left her breathless and conflicted.

Despite everything, she realized she wanted to kiss him. She needed to. With a trembling resolve, she parted her lips. Each touch, each caress spoke of longing and a need that defied reason. The boundaries between them seemed to dissolve, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection that pulsed with every heartbeat. In that moment, amidst the chaos, she felt a profound shift, a merging of desires and conflicts that left her yearning for more.