Mirage's Revenge. Lorena Garcia

her eyes flickering to my face, searching my eyes.

      I did not answer. Instead, I used my hand that still lingered on her cheek to pull closer, as I pressed my lips onto hers in a tender kiss. I felt her hesitate slightly before reiterating, opening her mouth for me to explore. Her hands, which she had been using to hug herself defensively as she looked out the window, took hold of the front of my jacket, bringing me closer and effectively deepening the kiss.

      I hooked an arm around her waist and with the other; I ran it through her hair, feeling its silky softness as it skimmed through my fingers. She gasped as I pulled her close sharply. I walked her back towards the bedroom, trailing kisses down her chin to her neck. I nudged on one of the sleeves of her shirt, exposing the soft skin of her shoulder.

      I stopped in my tracks; Rasputin’s mark was staring at me, a vicious, taunting, reminder of the cruelty she suffered through. Her heavy breathing added to my concerns of continuing… Only… Her hot breath hitting my neck and her warmth against my skin made me ignore those concerns and continue.

      I whispered a kiss onto her mark, smiling as a slight shiver coursed through her body. I kissed her as I slid my hands under her shirt. She trembled as my fingertips trailed up and down her skin softly. When I pulled her shirt off, I buried my face in her neck as I let my hands wander over her skin. I went slow, giving her all the chanced she could want to stop.

      Her breath hit my neck as her hands moved agonizingly with the workings of unbuttoning my shirt. Her fingernails grazed my skin as she pushed my shirt and jacket off of my shoulders, sending a flood of electricity to my core. I rubbed her against my straining length and felt her nails dig into my back as her body tightened.

      Our clothes felt constricting and as I, once again, tasted her lips, I unbuttoned her pants and mine. Dropping my shirt and jacket onto my shoes, I picked her up and placed her on the bed. She kicked off her pants as she moved back, her eyes never leaving mine. I crawled closer to her.

      I captured her lips with mine feeling her gasp softly as I pulled her close. She smiled at me and I could feel her soft whimper and moan as I entered her softly. Her nails scraping my back had me bordering between pain and pleasure, more so on pain as I felt small droplets of blood run down. I trailed kisses onto her neck as I pulled out and thrust back in, feeling her tighten around me. I quickened the pace, and soon I had her convulsing around me before I spilled into her with a kiss.

      She lied in my arms as we tried to catch our breaths, our bodies’ slick with sweat, and the sheets sticky on our skin. There was a comfortable silence between us, our hearts beating in one rhythm.

      I kissed her head before I broke the silence by asking, “Do you remember how you got the marks on your stomach?”

      She looked down, her fingers slightly tracing them. “I can’t,” she whispered, “They were not a part of me when I escaped.”

      I took her hand, curling her fingers with mine, and I rested them both on her stomach. I then lifted her head to kiss her, pulling her closer in my arms. We laid together for the rest of the day, exploring each other’s body and our responses to each well positioned touch and kiss.

      Chapter 4

      I was awakened by a cry in the middle of the night. Mirage was not in my arms but writhing on the bed beside me. She seemed as if she was battling with some putrid dream. I gathered her in my arms and held her close as she cried, begged, whimpered, and squirmed.

      It seemed like my body heat and the lull in my voice as I tried to calm her held the opposite effect for she woke screaming, “NO!”

      She curled deep into my arms as I continued to try to calm her, her tears streaming between us. We stayed in that position for hours, until her tears had all but dried and she stopped quivering in fear. I couldn’t find the courage to ask her what her terror was about, lest her tears should start once more.

      “I know what happened to me,” came her muffled voice from my chest.

      “Pardon?” I asked, not understanding what she was referring to.

      She looked at me, her eyes shining in the dim light because of fresh, unshed, tears. I pulled her close and I felt her exhale deeply. Her body trembled nervously once more before relaxing in my arms.

      “I know what happened to me during the time I escaped and you finding me.” Her hand had traveled to her stomach in a nervous gesture.

      “You remembered?” I asked her softly, feeling her breathing hitch as she talked.

      “Bits and pieces of it,” She looked at me, searching my eyes, “but I believe so.”

      I nodded and smiled softly at her, kissing her lips before saying, “Tell me what you remember.”

      She scoffed softly, to try to make the situation less serious but it did not work, causing her tears to fall down her cheeks. I kissed her tears away, pulling her close in a soft support.

      “I was running,” she exhaled deeply, “I heard shouts and footsteps but I was too afraid to look back. I just ran.”

      She paused for a long while, I held her in silence, knowing that she needed some time to process the information and find the strength to relive them.

      “I remember coming up to the dead end and being forced to stop. I could hear the footsteps closing in and, though I thought about hiding, it was too late.”

      She exhaled forcefully, forcing her tears away until she finished the story.

      “I can’t remember his face… I can’t remember what he looks like or who he was but all I do remember is he tore me apart.”

      I pulled her closer, tightly. I heard her defenses break down and felt her body rake with sobs once more.

      “The last thing that I remember,” she sniffled, pushing back to look at me, “Is his blade snapping in two, and him plunging it still within me.”

      She put her hand over one of the scars, and she placed her head on my shoulders, her tears started once more. I arranged her in my arms so that her head still rested on my shoulder, but she was curled up where I can hold her close.

      I examined her stomach and, sure enough, there was one where it seemed as if it was done by a broken blade. It was deeper and longer than the other two. I skimmed my fingertips over her wounds, before tracing the path with my lips. Her tears had stopped but her cheeks were still moist when I kissed her face before I kissed her lips. She reciprocated and we joined together once more before we both fell into a peaceful sleep. She slept in my arms and when dawn broke, she remained in my embrace.