Page 7 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
"Mine," I heard myself whisper against her throat, but the voice didn't sound entirely like my own. It carried harmonics I didn't recognize, undertones that spoke of shadows and winter wind. "You belong to me now, little flame."
Little flame. I'd never called her that before, yet the endearment felt familiar on my tongue, as if it were a name I'd spoken a thousand times. Livia arched beneath my touch, her breathing rapid and desperate, but when I looked into her eyes I saw something that made my chest tighten with confusion.
She was looking at me as if I were a stranger.
A tremor passed through me, disturbing the dream. Her eyes, so familiar yet regarding me with such unfamiliarity, sent ice through my veins. I tried to speak, to ask why she looked at me that way, but my lips moved of their own accord, forming words I hadn't intended.
“You cannot fight me, mate. Your body calls for me.” I lifted her ankle, pulling it over my shoulder as I forced myself deep inside her soaked pussy. She cried out, her back arching, but I could tell she was exhausted. I didn’t seem to care, though I took my time, enjoying the sight of my long cock disappearing between her lips.
I watched my hands grip her thighs, the strange, doubled sensation of feeling her flesh beneath my fingers while simultaneously viewing the scene as if from slightly outside myself. Something was wrong. This wasn't a memory—Livia and I had never been in a cave like this, never lain on furs this luxurious. Yet I could feel every sensation: her wetness around me, the heat of her skin, the scent of her arousal mixing with woodsmoke.
"Please," she gasped, her voice breaking.
Her eyes fluttered closed, tears leaking from the corners as she surrendered to whatever I—or whoever I was—demanded of her body. My hips continued their relentless rhythm, and I felt thebuilding pressure of approaching release, yet I was trapped, a prisoner in my own dream.
I wanted to stop, to pull away and demand answers. Who was this version of myself that took such cruel pleasure in her submission? Why did this feel both foreign and familiar at once? But I remained trapped in this strange dream-body, experiencing sensations I couldn't control.
I felt a surge of possessiveness, a feral satisfaction at her surrender that seemed alien to me. My hands—were they truly mine? —tightened on her flesh, leaving marks that would linger for days. The thought pleased me in a way that felt wrong, discordant with my own nature.
"Say it," I demanded, though I hadn't meant to speak at all. "Say you belong to me."
"I... belong to you," Livia whispered, her voice broken yet somehow resolute.
The words brought a savage joy that wasn't mine yet coursed through me like poison. I felt my lips curl into a smile I didn't recognize, predatory and cold.
"Again," I growled, driving deeper.
"I belong to you," she repeated, her eyes opening to meet mine with that same strange mixture of defiance and surrender.
I felt something shift in the dream then—a ripple of awareness, like a veil being drawn aside. For a heartbeat, I saw myself through Livia's eyes: my face, but not quite my face. The angles were sharper, the eyes colder, a cruelty in the curve of the lips that I'd never seen in my own reflection.
I tried to wrench myself free from the dream, but it held me fast, forcing me to witness as this man who wore my face drove into Livia with merciless precision. His movements were calculated, each thrust designed to extract maximum pleasure for himself while keeping her on the edge of fulfilment.
The pressure built in my loins, unbearable and urgent. I couldn't stop what was happening, couldn't tear myself away from this twisted mirror of my desires. My climax approached like a storm, violent and inevitable.
The tension peaked, and I felt myself—him—spilling inside her with a triumphant growl. The sensation crashed through me, unwanted yet undeniable. His pleasure became mine in that terrible moment of connection.
"Perfect," he whispered, stroking her tear-stained cheek with mock tenderness. "You were made for me."
I woke with a violent start, my body jerking upright as if pulled by invisible strings. My breath came in ragged gasps, sweat coating my skin despite the cool night air and my seed spilled across my stomach, shameful proof that my body had betrayed me even as my mind had recoiled.
"Livia," I whispered into the darkness of my tent, her name a prayer and a plea.
The emptiness around me seemed to swallow the sound. She was gone—had been gone for weeks now—and this... this perversion of memory was all I had left. But it wasn't a memory. It couldn't be. Something else had happened in that dream, something I couldn't understand.
"Gods," I whispered, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes. The dream clung to me like a second skin, refusing to dissipate even as consciousness took firmer hold. I could still smell her, still feel the silken heat of her body.
I wiped my hand across my face, finding it damp with tears and reached for the waterskin beside my bedroll, washing away the evidence of my body's betrayal. The dream lingered like a bad taste, too vivid to be mere fantasy, too twisted to be memory. Something about it felt wrong, as if I'd been looking through another's eyes.
"Little flame," I whispered, testing the endearment that had felt so natural yet so foreign on my dream-self's tongue. The words hung in the air, alien and uncomfortable.
Sleep would not return now. I rose, pulling on my leggings, glancing down to where Septimus still slept soundly. Should I wake him? Tell him what haunted me? I paused, wondering, then across the fire I saw the glint of huge golden eyes reflecting the starlight. Sirrax was awake.
I padded barefoot across the campsite, careful not to disturb the sleeping forms of our companions. Sirrax lay coiled in dragon form near the dying embers of our fire, his massive head resting on his forelegs, but his golden eyes tracked my movement with predatory awareness.
"Cannot sleep," he rumbled softly in my mind. "Feel your... disturbance."
I settled beside him, drawing comfort from the warmth radiating from his scales. "A dream," I said quietly. "But not... not like any dream I've had before."
