Tw: this book will deal with triggering topics. If you are easily triggered this is not the story for you, thank you.
(Book two in the Starlight series)
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Danika Archeron had been through hell.
Forced to go back to Spring C...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"He tastes like every dark though I ever had."
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I NEEDED air. Oxygen to allow the wind to sweep away my mind and my thoughts that cried out. Screamed and tore at my very being with every second I resisted what I wanted.
Gods, I wanted to give in so badly. So very badly. How many more times would I have to repeat the same mantra over and over until it held no more value? How many times until I truly forgot, and the names reappeared when something happened to him?
I walked through the tavern in hurried steps, eliciting a few confused stares until I threw open the door and walked out away from view. The sun had already set, and the night was new, wind whipping through all around me while rain pelted every inch of my body. A slow, languid rain that seemed to know exactly how I was feeling. I stalked to the side of the building, my back pressing against the cool stone wall as I leaned my head against it with closed eyes. A feeble attempt to pull my running thoughts back into my mind.
The rain trailed across my body, calming drops of water that seemed to draw me back into reality.
I knew he would follow. Even if he wanted to stay up there, he would not leave me out here unprotected with the Flame and Hybern rolling about. Of course, he would. It was Rhys.
And so, when I heard the soft creak of the door—a small sound compared to roaring thunder that answered in its wake—I knew it was him.
Even over the rain, I was hyper aware of every step he took toward me. The soft crack of sticks under her feet. The rustle of his shoes as they hit the ground. Rhys stopped mere inches from me. Waiting. Watching. And yet not pushing. A presence. As though he knew every thought going through my head.
