The Mosaic

Chapter 43 | Green like Treason

Everything was burning.

Only the dark wood of the headboard was cool against his back, as if reason was trying to seep back into him, but the body seated in his lap burned too hot.

Trails of fire followed frantic fingers, sparks exploding where they dug into skin to hold on. Flames licked at Alessandro's insides, burning reason. Gasps for air, but only smoke and heat filling their lungs, so they breathed each other instead. 

Lorenzo's head fell back, throat bared for Alessandro's teeth.  He could feel the other's pulse against his chest, stuttering and then hammering on at a slow drag of lips against his adam's apple. Dark bruises, like brand marks of their fire, followed in Alessandro's path, down Lorenzo's neck, his shoulders, his chest.

Alessandro was burning alive.

His hands found Lorenzo's waist, dragging him closer. There was no admiration for the art beneath his fingertips, the fine muscle, the exquisite shades of sun-kissed marble, the curve of legs straddling him. Alessandro dragged art and artist to the pyre, threw them in the flames and watched them burn.

And there were no screams for mercy, no prayer for salvation, Lorenzo burned bright and beautiful and desperate. The gasps falling from his lips had long stopped resembling words. And there was no space for god between them, when Lorenzo's fingers clawed into Alessandro's hair to tilt his head back, away from his chest, up, until he could lean down and kiss him. There was no space for the devil, when their fire burned hotter than hell.

Alessandro groaned, for more, for everything.

His hands found the other's face, fingers burying in a tousled mess of blond curls. He pushed, until Lorenzo fell back into the sheets, dragging Alessandro with him. 

The coil in his chest was restless, shifting and curling. More. More. Alessandro forced his eyes open, ripping his lips away for a heaved breath, to ask -- 

The blond hair between his fingers shifted. Like snakes. Suddenly it grew, spilling through his fingers, the gold being devoured by red. Auburn waves, smooth like silk, red like blood seeping through his hands.

Alessandro's eyes widened, the banished name locked in when cruel fingers pulled him back to smiling lips. They opened for him, drew him in, offered him everything.

And then there was blood. It spilled from Daniele's lips, into Alessandro's mouth, down his throat, hard and fast like a torrent. It tore into him, ripped his mind from his fingertips and flooded his heart. The stench of iron filled his nose, the taste of copper thick on his tongue. He tried pulling away, but couldn't, body suddenly frozen, rigid, no longer his to command. The blood rose like high tide, climbing higher and higher, pulling him under into a sea of red. He opened his mouth to gasp for air, but only more blood rushed in.

He was locked in, his lungs ripping apart as he drowned in blood, red tears smearing down his cheeks. 

When Daniele finally pulled away, he was laughing as blood flowed down his chin, a waterfall of warring hearts. Alessandro was chocking, control rushing back, hands flying up to claw at his chest, his throat, his face, but it was too late. Too much blood, filling every part of him, suffocating him from the inside. It tasted sweet now.

His vision was fading, shadows, thin like cold fog, red like sin, creeping closer. His head began spinning, gravity pulling him down.

The last thing he saw before he fell forward was Daniele looking up at him with his vampire smile, teeth gleaming white against the thick red. But his eyes were no longer hazel.

They were green like treason.

He fell --

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