A dance with devils lies.., p.10
A Dance With Devils: Lies And Truths Trilogy Book 1, page 10
Another giggle bursts out, as I sway with them and push faster, watching as all the little soldiers keep revolving around me. No. Not real. This beat is, though. That’s real. It’s making me move, easing my hips left and right. My arms reach upwards, eyes searching all the white lights as the ground comes to my feet. It’s solid there. Stable. I can feel my weight in it, sense my body finding a rhythm in the blackness.
Warmth traces my thighs, lips. I can feel them gentle on me. No pain. And a tongue, or something wet. Maybe it’s my Malachi. Mine? My head shakes, hands stopping its sway. I shouldn’t have thought that. Not mine. Not his either. None of us belong to anyone. We’re free. No. I’m not free. I’m here against my will. I know that – I do.
But nothing feels against my will.
And his lips were on mine. They were.
Or maybe they weren’t.
Eyes. Where are they? Black eyes. No, not black - the darkest brown, huge pupils dilating. Long eyelashes barely moving. So shadowed and looming. My eyes, though. For me. All for me. I can feel them on me now. Or in me. Another laugh pulses along my skin, the depth of it rumbling through every breath that eases in and out. I want those eyes with me, want to see them, linger in them.
I shudder at the heat radiating from inside of me, one hand trying to bring it closer to me somehow. Hair lands in my grip, thick coarse hair that moves where I push it. Pleasure. I can feel that between my thighs now, as if something is lapping, eating me from the inside out slowly. Beautiful, though. Soft and continuous.
My legs widen, hips still moving to this beat as it grinds into me further. Long strokes. Gentle nips and teeth grating on skin. The sensation makes me search for it and moan, desperate for more of it. I’m travelling somewhere – somewhere higher than here. And my soldiers still spin when I look through them. Round and round. On and on. Never-ending.
“Enough.”
No, not enough. Never enough.
That voice, though. I can feel it. So loud in me. It vibrates and pulses, as if it already lives inside me. It’s part of me. Something I’ve never found before. I search through my soldiers, waiting for them to talk, to tell me who it belonged to. I need it here with me. There’s nothing there, though. No voice coming back at me. Just soldiers spinning.
No pleasure now either.
A hand grabs mine, strong hand. Harsh grip, towing me along like I’m on air again. I giggle and follow, watching all the splinters of light coming back at me from whoever is in front. A tunnel. I’m in a long, dark tunnel. It’s turning as we run, crackles of white lightning flying out around the one leading us. We're climbing. Higher and higher. Round and round, boots running hard as they pull me into more darkness. It’s nice. Serene and calm, but for the speed and pace. It’s safe here. Like the elevator. Brightly lit because of the figure that guides me.
“You will run.”
Yes, run. We’re running.
Fingers click. And then a heavy door slams closed. It makes me startle in my mind, cracks the flickers of light into thousands of droplets of rain. They’re falling on me, hitting my skin and sending frigid air across it. I blink. So cold. Freezing. My feet dance, trying to avoid it. They’re getting cold, too, though. Everything’s so cold. Pretty, though. So pretty above me.
Weight hits my face so suddenly I stumble sideways, body unable to balance because of it. I spin and hit into something. My hands grasp hold of the rough surface, frame resting on it because of the shock. Not pain, just shock. I was floating, warm, and now nothing but cold and solidity.
“Run before another one comes.”
Who’s that? Where? I recognise it. It’s part of me, like it was before.
I peer into the white noise around me, trying to find the black I was in. All white now, though. White and greys, fog and murky visions. Black smoke starts weaving through it, all of it swirling and turning in the wind. Windy? I laugh and let go of the rough surface to push myself into the smoke as it ebbs and squalls. So pretty, all mine. Just for me. Like eyelashes softly fluttering.
Laughter peels into the smoke. Not mine. Another laugh. Someone else’s. I stop and search for it, captivated by the sound of its rich, low tone. It sways through me like the eyes did, like the bass still does. He’s here with me. Part of me.
“Malachi?” Another laugh, this time trickling off to a near soundless chuckle. Rich, though. Like velvet churning in the wind, licking my skin. “Where are you?”
“Here.” My head snaps left, but there’s nothing but more smoke. “There.” To the right this time. I turn and spin through the smoke and fog, arms reaching for him in the mist. “You’re getting colder, Ally cat.” I am. He’s right. So cold. Alone, too, but for the sound of his voice drawing me. “Move that pretty ass before I forget I’m supposed to be chasing you down first.”
I’m shoved suddenly, pushed in a direction I can’t see. Thick fog now. Blankets of it like waves coming at me and only the slightest hint of black weaving through it. I stumble, hands out in the hope that I can see my tunnel and lightning again. I’ll find him then, be able to reach that feeling inside of me and cling to it.
Black suddenly, a thick ghost of it on my skin.
My hands bat it away, body turning to run. It doesn’t move, won’t clear. I can feel it all over me. Hands, heat, and heartbeat. Doesn’t make any sense. Nothing does. A kiss? I halt, surprised by the feel of weight on my lips again. No one there, though. But there is. I can feel the warmth, the sense of pressure. And the taste as it licks inside me – oh god the taste. Salty. So hot.
My fingers draw lines over my lips, then drag downwards to my neck, chest, breasts. “Please,” splutters out of me. I don’t know why. I just need to feel him. To find him. “Where are you?” I don’t like being alone now. Alone feels vacant and hollow. We’re not like that here. We’re one, two parts of one entwined.
Another sensation sends me sideways, and then another to counter that. Over and over the feeling lands on my skin. Pain starts following it. Real pain. Enough pain that my eyes begin watering and the world begins clearing of fog. My vision sharpens again to find trees and snow in the darkened gloom, millions and millions of trees towering so high in the sky I can’t see the tops of them. I’m outside, snow beneath my feet, and it’s as black as coal above me.
One final blast of pain and I spin in place to look at where it came from, my hand shielding my face from more. He’s standing there, about eight feet back, a smile on his face as he watches me cowering backwards.
“You taste nice,” he says. Taste? “Ripe.” What does that mean? “Ripe things get crushed. Split open. I want blood, Ally cat." I back away, hands reaching for another tree so I can use it as a barrier. He seems to move with me, his boots moving over the ground without him actually walking. The hell is that about? “Wake up, Ally cat. It’s not real. None of this is. You should run, try to escape me before it’s too late and you fall in love.”
Love?
I snatch glances around me, trying to work out where I am in this brain fog. I was inside, watching him dancing. And then he told me to run. And I was running – with him. He held my hand, made me feel safe and warm. And now I’m here – fearful. The castle?
Where is that?
Scanning the dark again, I start to see the shadowy imprint of it behind him. Solid walls. But towering so high. How did we get down here? There’s a ledge. A ridge half way up. Trees and lights glinting gently. Gardens maybe. I need to get there, get back to the warmth and the walls.
The thought makes me move sideways, ducking behind more trees in the hope that I can evade him.
“You think you can get home before me?” he says, quietly.
My head whips right, eyes focusing on a new place he seems to have appeared in. So black against all this white. Tanned skin, dark eyes. Dark boots inching over the ground towards me. “Outwit me, little Alice. Try.”
I grit my teeth, shift this damn dress up, and then I run.
I run blindly, all the time trying to keep my eyes glued to the light on that ridge. Stones and rocks pinch at my feet under the snow, branches whipping by my face as I navigate without any real sight to guide me. I’m laughing, though. Why am I doing that? I’m laughing and running as if it’s a game, sending quick, snatched squints behind me to see if he’s close. He isn’t that I can see, but I can feel him nonetheless. And the quicker I run, the more speed I pick up, the louder the laughter gets. I don’t even know if it’s my laughter, as I begin to climb. It could be his for all I know.
Everything’s a blur of sound, almost drowning out the beat inside me drumming so loudly. Branches crack, birds call, howling noises in the distance somewhere. I can hear them all vaguely, as my fingers scramble on tree trunks to pull me up a hill. Wind rushes by carrying more laughter. But all I’ve really got is the sound of this bass inside me and feet hitting the floor, his and mine. So close. So close I can nearly feel him on me, feel those lips again. I’m not falling for it, though. Can’t. Won’t. It’s not real, like he said. None of it is.
Another scrape of branch hits my legs, tearing a line through the skin. It doesn’t hurt, as I keep powering through the snow. Nothing hurts. I’m not even out of breath. The ridge and this deep bass, that’s all that matters. Get there before him. Win the game.
Run.
The fence line is in front of me before I know it, a gate swung open as if waiting for me to cross the threshold and prove a point I’m not sure of. Is there a point? I don’t know, but I’m through it and aiming at the side of the old stones before I analyse that thought anymore. I’m here. Back. On the ridge before he is. Outwit him, he said. Get home first. I got home first.
Chapter 14
Malachi
I watch as she scrambles the last of the paths up to me, her hands clawing at the stone to bring her closer. On the edge. Very close to it. I smirk and gaze at her small feet navigating effectively, watching as she shivers against the cold that keeps grinding in further in each next minute. Should have got her a coat really before I dragged her out here, but the thought was on me too quickly and the need was too strong. So many colours still. Bright and vivid against all the snow here.
Pretty.
Pretty little Alice with her cunt in someone else’s mouth. I was annoyed about that. Rage filled and malevolent. He felt it too. He felt it in his jaw first, and then in the stomach, as I followed the instinct that flowed seamlessly because of these pills inside. No calm. No consideration for what these people around me want or need. Just reaction.
Poor Jonas.
Chuckling, I pull myself to stand so I can follow the colours still radiating from her, unable to keep away from them. Mine. My little Alice. Can’t remember the last time I fought over a woman. Faith maybe. But that was a long time ago.
She’s shuddering now, her hands on her arms as she tries to ward off this cold and looks around her erratically. No escape. No route inside again either unless I show her the way. Frantic fingers claw at the wall again, feet trying to rush across the gardens deep under this snow and ice. They’re pretty, like her. Pretty grounds and a pretty girl. My pretty girl.
I’m in front of her before she gets a clear path through the fog starting to settle again, my own hands desperate to pull her to me. I won’t, though. Not yet. So much time to play with. Just us and this haven of disrepute. Maybe the roof next, or the underground passages. She could drown down there, re-birth herself like so many others have done before her.
She gasps as I emerge from behind the old oak, feet stumbling backwards until she hits what’s visible of one of the iron benches.
“You’re here,” she stutters, looking behind her. “But you were there.”
“I was, and now I’m here. If there was ever a there in the first place.”
“What?” She seems dazed, lost in her own little adventure of pills, as she continues rubbing her arms. “I’m so cold. I wasn’t, but now I am. Did I win?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“You’re black …” She looks around her again, head shaking. “Do you feel that?” Yes, not like she does, but yes. “I don’t know what that is. Just black, with white things coming out of you.” I smile and circle her, making sure she keeps her eyes level with mine until her hands rise to stroke the air. “Like lightning. You’re not lightning, though. You’re black. Dark.”
Her head shakes again, whipping left and right to get a gauge on where I am. “Where are you?”
I move closer. “Here.”
She jumps and flings her hands up into the air, perhaps attempting to hit me. I don’t let her. She’s grabbed and pulled to me, her fine frame sinking closer until she’s so close the taste of her is damn near overwhelming. More shivers. More shudders against me. Small. Little under my hands. I can’t stop myself, though, can’t fight the draw anymore. Too strong. Too intoxicating.
I sigh and sway her, eyes looking down at all the colours splitting around her face. So many shards to break, so many colours to fragment. I can’t keep my lips away from hers now either. I need them, need them on me. Slow. So slow as I make my way down to them. And they’re cold – frigid and harsh underneath mine. Warm inside, though. Warm and wet and forgiving. Softer. Light as they shiver and let me tease them.
A long breath eases out of me into her, head eventually tipping back to look up at the nothingness, as I pull her in tighter and lean on the tree. It isn’t nothing anymore, though. It’s full of colour, full of light and visions and her. I can hear her screaming, hear her begging and chanting. A new piece of music, new notes, new chords. I want to play, let my fingers roam aimlessly. I’ll crush her into me, let these hands find places they haven’t found for years if ever.
Both of them ruck the dress up, exposing her to the harsh elements and me and I turn her until she’s on the tree. Soft skin slides under my grip, goosebumps riding all over it, as my fingers travel between her legs and push the material aside. She moans and lets her head linger on my chest, as I slide through her cunt. We should fuck here, join and let the wild lead us wherever it wants to. And she’s so wet for me. Hungry.
Two fingers sink inside her, the palm of my hand rubbing to give her pressure. “Fuck them,” murmurs from me. “Show me. Get lost, little Alice.”
Her body climbs onto me somehow, arms clinging until she’s wrapped around me and moving her hips slowly. I swallow and look at her, part desperate to replace these fingers with my dick instead and yet too mesmerised by her to care. Mouth parted, her hand slipping down through us so she can get to my belt. Brazen. Bold.
“More,” she whispers.
Everything’s throbbing. Her, me, the wind and the noise. I’m close to laying her down, letting her feel the ice and snow on her back while I fuck and ravage her skin, but just here and this tree is enough for now. The belt gets wrenched inch by inch, top button flicked and shoved until she’s reaching into my pants and skimming her hands over me. I watch it, holding her firm on the tree, and wait for the feel of her, that first feel that binds us closer than these pills ever can.
A sudden burst of energy from her sends me backwards, the moment shattered, as she scrambles off me and lands on the floor. It pisses me off instantly, as does the stinging sensation on my face, but surprise makes me look down at her scratching about in the snow.
She looks left and right, quickly scanning the area around her.
“Run, he said,” drifts up to me. “Run.”
My rage comes back full fucking throttle, as I watch her move into the mist and disappear.
”The fuck was that?” snarls out of me.
She’s gone, though. Nowhere to be seen.
I scour the area, a glower on my face. No one disappears on me. Fucking pills. A hollow laugh grates out, legs heaving through this damn snow to find her again. Stupid little bitch. She’ll freeze out here alone and then all my fun will be gone. That’s not a good hunt for me. That’s meaningless and futile. As will she be if she doesn’t let me play.
Where?
More strides around the gardens and I eventually find her trying to open the door into the back passages. She looks tired now, as she struggles and beats her fists at it, as if she’s giving up. She isn’t – her mind, her strength of resolve never will, but her body isn’t winning the war against this cold she’s trying to ignore. My own face stretches against the onslaught of the wind still driving harshly, hands pulling her out of the way.
“Wait there,” I mutter, pushing on the hidden lever.
Air puffs out as the old cantilever pushes the door inwards, and she’s gone into the depths of the tunnel before I get a chance to shut the damn thing. A laugh grumbles out of me, eyes snatching glances along the obscure hole, as I pull it back to. I can hear her feet running, smell her body as it tries escaping again. Good hunting.
I take off after her, heavy boots pounding corners and corridors I know too well until I see the lights come flicking back at me. All the colours again, all the bright lights. Mine. All mine to play with. And I want secrets from her. Where? Who? Why? I’ll make her tell me, force things from her she didn’t even know she was hiding.
The eventual sight of the door up into the main house being open makes me check the hallways, eyes scanning for which direction. No noise. Everything’s quiet as a mouse. And then footsteps somewhere. Heavy footsteps. My eyes narrow. Who the fuck is here now? Damien isn’t, Karl either. I sent them down. Down so this would be for me and her alone. I wanted quiet for my hunt, just me and her and the endless time we have.
A scream sounds out, a riot of bellows and bitching about something. I follow the sound of it, boots hurrying in case something else has got hold of my little thing. Mine. No one else’s. My game – my play.
It isn’t until I round towards the main staircase that I hear the voice more clearly. “Get the fuck off me,” my little Alice shouts. “Now.” Quiet again. “No. Fuck off. You don’t understand and …” Another volley of bitching, another scream so fucking loud the pitch of it makes me consider what I’m about to see. “RUN!” she screams. “RUN!”
