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Zenya looks up at him, a sense of mischief sparkling around her. “Who could forget?”
With his very bone skull leering down at her, my eldest brother takes her jaw in his skeletal grip. “Kiss me.”
I can’t quite see everything, but I know she’s pausing, hesitating, her self-conscious energy radiating.
“That was not a request,” he deepens his vocal cords and tightens his grip on her jaw. The savage intensity of his energy as he stares at her is unlike anything I’ve ever seen or felt from him.
He’s fucked her. Surely, she has kissed his skull. Unless he was in his god form at the time—or his corpse becoming it. Regardless, this is different than their first moments in this hall. She was distracted by his sexual torment and maintained her sense of playfulness before her shadow self overthrew her. Another matter I’ll settle with my brother presently.
His monstrous need for her eclipses everything else in the room, including my shadows. This is him proving his claim over her. Like marking his territory.
Zenya is no wallflower. When he binds his powerful wings around the lower half of her form, she doesn’t cower. No, she purses her lips, tilts her head, and I hear a knowing “hmm” resonate from her throat.
Her smile is so golden, I can see it beyond the silhouetted facade. The only mortal to ever smile at my nightmarish brother. The rare dream walkers who have crossed into his realm are quick to scream and retreat to mine. He commands all territories of mortal fears and horrors. But this mad, little creature stares at him like he’s worthy of worship.
She will soon look at me the same way. As I will her.
The moment she arches her neck and rises on her tiptoes, Nyxion sweeps down, his bone colliding with her mouth. As he stabs his tongue past her lips, his teeth cut against her lips,bleeding thin lines. Her moan is the sound of what dreams are made of.
Another moment of his ravishing kiss before he pulls away. Then he snaps his wings to his back and walks away, her blood coating his teeth. Breathless and bewildered, Zenya presses her fingers to her lips, swiping at the blood before turning to me.
I don’t rise from my chair, but I project my shadows in thin, wispy tendrils. Nyxion growls a warning, but he mercifully does not stop me from curling my shadows around her lips to heal the marks.
Zenya heaves a sigh and drops her hands to her sides. “I’ll take awkward, dramatic moments for 500, Alex,” she jokes to Phantasos and Ivy.
Ivy giggles on her throne, kicking her legs and addressing Phantasos, “Dance for me,” she pleads with her hands joined beneath her chin.
“Zenya…” he looks toward our little dream weaver. “Would you care to conjure a song?”
She closes her eyes for a moment before “Little Me” manifests.
Phantasos seizes Zenya by the waist. Much to Nyxion’s chagrin, he adorns himself in his new Queen persona and dances with our mad weaver.
Word by word, dance by dance, she takes herself back, her dark and light tattoos swirling. A great and terrible shoutout to the little girl inside her who played with bones. An inner hitherto sense that she is beautiful, wonderful, anything she may not see but feel down to the fabric of her being.
She’s shedding grace on the little girl inside her.
How I desire her!
Ivy claps her hands to the rhythm until Phantasos ends with a sweeping bow. The child rushes to him and throws herarms around him, making my trickster brother prickle before he finally acquiesces and hugs her.
For the next hour, Nyxion and I watch—well, I watch as best I can—Zenya, Phantasos, and Ivy dancing. Every new song is spelled into being by Zenya, her duality showing itself in her emo style. Not extreme goth but not quite happy butterflies.
She is a messed-up brain matter. A fanatical mix of fucked up flawlessness.
Chapter 11
But, oh, her war! such a war with herself.
NYXION
“Sugar” by Sleep Token
“The Dark of You” by Breaking Benjamin
“Blood Sport” by Sleep Token
Zenya weaves a dress into being for herself.
