The Way to Hell

Chapter Seven: Incubus

The room feels cosy, protected by cherry wood walls and thick braces latched to corners of the ceiling. It's been a while since she felt warm. A thick white blanket embellished by a red Scandinavian floral print hugs her bare body. It has an odd sensation to it, almost too mellow. She wants to sink into the comfort the bed provides and forget all her problems, Icarus, and August Walker.

But a buzzing noise breaks into her state of ease. As if there is a hornets' nest hidden somewhere under the bed, it keeps worsening, clattering in her bones. The more she tries to brush the anxiety away, the more it begins to transform into a new sound. Like a clock ticking, louder and louder, drumming inside her brain.

The pattern on the blanket doesn't look like flowers anymore. It looks like blood splatters.

A sudden gust of wind onslaughts her, the blanket sliding onto the hardwood floor. It leaves her naked in the harsh daylight for his wicked appreciation. The living god who stands at the edge of the bed, every breath emphasizing his pure masculinity. Shadow and light flow from his impressive naked figure while a Cheshire grin paints his face.

Ingvild prepares to fight him yet her hands appear to be paralyzed. Lifting her gaze back, she realizes she is bound by ropes to the wooden bars she broke in the past. His smirk deepens, one cheek rising up in victory as he climbs onto the bed. His blue eyes preying on her, his hands grasp her feet, throwing her legs apart. In her chest, she feels the need to resist but her muscles remain dormant as he crawls between her thighs.

'No, I don't want it.'

August shifts himself on top of her, his large palms capturing her face as he leans in to kiss her deeply. Hot and wet, his tongue penetrates her mouth, stealing the breath he gave her.

'Stop.'

He breaks the kiss and spits on his fingers. Ingvild sees the beaming leer on his face as his hand reaches down to her groin, smearing his saliva between her delicate petals only to find out she's already soaked, her lips ripe with an open invitation for him.

"You want this." his eyes shine with bliss, lips parting open into a smile full of sharp teeth.

"No, I don.."

She breaks into a gasp, overwhelmed as he sinks himself inside her inch by inch. A low growl tickles her ear as his head lowers to the side of her head, his breath hot against her neck. She can feel her body lifting beneath him, demanding more of his skin against hers.

No words form on her tongue, only embarrassing animal-like wails as August drives between her thighs, eliciting guttural grunts with every shove. Her ankles kick into the mattress, wrists hurting as she tugs and fights for her freedom. His palms cage her face once again, forcing her to gaze into his stormy blue eyes.

"You want me."

She wakes with a loud gasp, her upper body snaking up from the single bed as if possessed by some demonic force. No longer in Bergen, but in an unfamiliar bed–a cold, compact AirBNB apartment. Mundane and practical. Rented for the next following week of her short stay.

Lying on her back, her breath is heavy, her body still tingling from the disturbing dream. She never dreamt of anything but her past. Nothing ever gave her nightmares, up till now.

'August Walker is the devil.'

Fury throbs at her core, a desperate need hinges at her nerves, so powerful it dims her senses. She feels the wetness coating her womanhood. Slippery and slick, awaiting something that's out of reach. Hazy and meek she slips her fingers below, finding their way between her inner thighs, flirting with the swelling arousal.