Asteria
The weekend passed in a fragile rhythm, each day a delicate balance of trying to forget what I had seen.
I stayed at Julian's apartment, hiding from the chaos outside and from myself.
Each morning, I woke with the residue of nightmares still clinging to my mind, but Julian's presence was an anchor.
I tried to act normal around him, laughing, talking, cooking, pretending nothing was wrong. Pretending I could forget everything.
"It looks like my assistant has totally abandoned me!" I heard him chuckle from the kitchen, the sound light and teasing.
"I don't think so! Somebody has to keep you under observation at all times. We wouldn't want you to break, drop, or burn anything, would we?" I teased back, following the sound of his voice, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Julian was a remarkable cook. Everything he made felt like art. Even his clumsiness, pots clattering, knives wobbling, the occasional spill, was endearing.
Each laugh we shared, each playful correction, felt like a thread stitching me back together, keeping the edges of my frayed mind intact.
He handed me a glass of white wine and kissed me softly. I smiled against his lips, the world outside fading into nothing.
The rest of the evening flowed in warmth and ease, talking, cooking, laughing, as though the horrors outside our apartment walls didn't exist.
"So, about that dream," he began, his tone thoughtful, "I think you'll find it interesting."
He stepped closer, spoon in hand, offering me a taste of his pasta sauce. It was rich and perfect.
"Do continue," I encouraged, taking another sip of my wine, unable to take my eyes off him.
"We were walking through strange, whispering woods. There were other people with us, but I couldn't remember their faces."
"At some point," he continued, "we came across a peculiar man sitting at the base of a massive, ancient tree, and it felt as if he had been expecting us."
"I've forgotten some details, but I clearly remember the alchemical symbols etched across temples and hands. He spoke of seals... perhaps a key or maybe a door. After that, everyone else left, and I was alone with him," he said softly.
"He spoke with clarity, telling me I must maintain balance. Then I saw myself covered in strange tattoos, staring back at me. A—me looking at me—kind of situation. And then I woke up." He finished with a distant look, as if the dream lingered longer than any he'd had before.
"That's… intense," I murmured, wrapping my arms around him. "You should write a book with this stuff you keep dreaming about. I'd read it in a heartbeat."
He laughed softly. "I don't have the patience for that."
"Well, you should keep it in mind. I think you'd be an excellent writer."
"Not as excellent as you are a painter. By the way… how are things?" he asked, concern flickering across his face.
"Not so great," I admitted, stepping back from his embrace. His brows furrowed, and I quickly felt guilty. The past few days had been rough. A blur of sleepless nights and haunting visions.
"I think I'll take your advice about the therapist," I added after a moment. "It's been three days since I could close my eyes for more than a few minutes."
"Thank you for keeping up with me during this time."
"You have nothing to thank me for. I love you and care about your well-being," he said gently, closing the space between us again.
"How about I help you relax the way I know best?" His voice carried that mischievous glint that always made me blush.
His warmth surrounded me again, his fingertips tracing slow circles along my arms, up to my collarbone. I leaned into him, feeling the tension melt away little by little. My pulse slowed, my thoughts quieted, the world shrinking to the steady rhythm of our breathing.
"Aren't I the luckiest girl?" I murmured against his shoulder.
He chuckled, deep and reassuring, pressing a soft kiss into my hair. For a while, everything faded to a gentle hum, and I let myself sink into the comfort of his presence.
Then, something caught my eye.
A massive, unnervingly still raven perched on the window ledge. Its feathers shimmered darkly beneath the fogged glass, each movement deliberate. Its unblinking gaze pressed against my chest like a weight I couldn't lift.
I stiffened. Something about that raven felt wrong, but in that instant, all I wanted was Julian.
I began backing away slowly, guiding him with me toward the bedroom. It wasn't difficult as he was already pressed against me, his lips grazing my neck, his hands tracing down my back.
A soft sound escaped me when his mouth found a sensitive spot, and the moment it left my lips, he swallowed it with his own.
The hunger between us surged as he squeezed my hips, pressing us closer.
With one swift move, I slipped out of my top while he lifted my skirt, revealing delicate black lace beneath. He smirked, lowering himself, his mouth brushing a slow path along my chest, heat pooling everywhere he touched.
I melted into him, dizzy with anticipation as his fingers teased lightly through the lace. Desire spread like fire, curling through every nerve.
His warm breath skimmed my skin, his beard barely grazing me, making me tremble against the wall.
Then he sank lower, slow and deliberate, pulling away the last barrier between us. His mouth claimed me with a tender, intoxicating hunger that made my knees weaken.
My breath caught, my fingers sliding rugged shoulders as the world narrowed to the rhythm he set, the way he held me steady as if he couldn't bear to let go.
"God, the way you sound…" he growled, lifting my legs over his shoulders as if I weighed nothing.
His breath, his closeness, the way he held me,firm and possessive, sent shivers racing through me.
My hips moved instinctively, grinding his tongue, seeking more, unable to bear the slow torture he gave so generously.
The heat built fast, sharp, consuming, until my thoughts dissolved into sensation. Every brush of his mouth, every breath against my skin made the room blur around us.
His hold tightened on my skin, grounding me even as I felt myself unravel.
A playful pinch drew a breathless, helpless gasp from me, and warmth swept through me all at once, overwhelming, dizzying, impossible to hold back.
For a moment I forgot everything except the way he held me, the way he watched me fall apart in his arms.
He lowered me slowly, my legs trembling as my feet touched the floor.
I reached for him, trying to pull him closer, but he was already turning me gently toward the wall. His hands slid down my sides, guiding my hips, urging me back against him.
My pulse stumbled, my breath catching as I felt the heat of him, the promise pressed firmly against me, sliding teasingly across my entrance.
"I need to feel you…" The words left me on a broken whisper.
He fulfilled my request, slow, deliberate, savoring.
His mouth found my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin, making my head fall forward against the wall.
He held me firmly, tenderly, as if he knew just how close I was to slipping under again. His groans, low and rough, vibrated against my back, each one drawing another sound from my lips.
The rhythm deepened, urgent, hungry, perfectly in sync. I arched into him, breathless, the world melting into heat and movement and the relentless pull between us.
My body answered before I could think, tightening around every shift of his hips, drawn closer and closer to the edge all over again.
The room felt like it tilted, my breath catching as he pressed me back against his chest. His mouth found my neck, his hands sliding over my chest with reverent intensity.
My vision sparked, my body tightening as everything inside me rushed toward a breaking point.
And then the rest dissolved into a blur of heat and breath and the sound of him groaning into my skin.
The world went white.
We crashed onto the bed, limbs tangled, breathless. For a while, neither of us spoke, simply letting reality settle slowly around us.
"Well," I murmured with a shaky laugh, "if that doesn't help me, I don't know what will."
His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns across my back, and the warmth of his chest wrapped around me like a shield.
I felt my muscles loosen, my eyelids growing heavy with every second passing by.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the outside world faded to nothing.
Just as sleep began to claim me, my gaze drifted to the window.
The raven was still there, perched silently on the ledge looking like it was watching us the entire time.
Its feathers shimmered unnaturally in the dim light, blacker than any shadow, and its gaze felt like it pressed through the glass straight into my chest.
My last conscious thought before slipping fully under was simple and chilling. The raven's eyes had not blinked once. They were still glowing in the dark, faintly and strange with hints of sharpness. As if they could see not just me, but the edges of my mind, the threads of my thoughts I hadn't dared to name.
And I knew, without question, that I couldn't escape whatever was coming.