His Beloved or His Mate

There was barely enough light to see. The darkness was a suffocating shroud that choked her throat as her hands desperately grabbed at the earth-caked walls for guidance. Chunks of dirt spilled through her hands as she pushed herself up a crude, muddy staircase. Up, up, up… no landing, no rest. Tears burst through her frustration with the endless row upon row of stairs. Turn away. Turn back. Don’t go there! A voice whispered in her head. But there’s light. I need to get to the light! La luz! She countered. Not that way! Her anxious pulsing heart drowned out any doubt the inner voice decried. She wanted to be out of the darkness and that way was up these stairs. They seemed to be getting steeper, the steps further apart, insomuch she had to begin hoisting herself up the three-foot ledge. Now the four-foot ledge. The next five-foot ledge met at her shoulders. She knew she could clear it, but the girdling darkness felt like it was pushing her down as she tried to scale it. A thick, enveloping force weighted her shoulders as she hoisted herself up, and her arms shook against the added pressure. She screamed, fighting her invisible opponent, but ultimately giving in to its strength, sending her sprawling back down. Tears burned her eyes as she grit her teeth and rushed back to the ledge. With a running leap, she pressed herself up despite the force that struggled to keep her down. Breathing heavily, she walked toward the next ledge, hands on her hips as she surveyed the six-foot outcrop. Trying a vertical jump, her fingers barely gripped the next step and she fell back down with clods of dirt in her fists. She tried it again, again, again, getting the same result. Leaning her head against the earthy wall, she screamed in rebellion at the weak voice in her head that was begging her to stop, that it was useless, that she would never get to the light above the ledge. “Echar agua al mar.” Her head sunk into her knees. As hopelessness began coaxing a surrender, a sudden breeze cascaded from above, dancing with the strands of her long brown hair and flushing an unexpected score of goosebumps over her skin. Mingling with the gentle wind, a hush purred into her ear. Her breath caught in her throat as the music’s intangible fingers tickled the back of her neck. She giggled at the delicious caress. Mi Alma. The song died when someone called her name. She looked up at the six-foot challenge again, her very core yearning to be up there. Mi Alma, come back to me. Taking a few steps back, she lifted her chin defiantly and screamed as she ran at the ledge again, battling gravity with her effort to climb. Fingers dug into the dirt, muscles straining, she scaled as much as she needed to get to the top. When her hand slapped firmly on the lip, she used all the strength she could muster to pull herself up, gritting her teeth as she strained. Swinging her leg up to the landing, she rolled the rest of herself up. Victory. Mi Alma. Find me. The beseeching voice caressed her skin in a passing breath. It was still dark where she lay. Begrudging, she looked to the left, thinking she’d see yet another monolithic stair to climb. Instead, her eye caught a pinpoint light off into the distance. As she slowly rose to a sitting position, the light grew brighter and brighter. Each degree of light revealed more and more that she was in a room, and she was not alone. Masquerading, masked men dressed in black tuxedos guided women in extravagant vizards and ball gowns over a gold-veined ebony-marbled floor. The music was barely audible, but the more they flitted about the floor, guiding their partners in twirls and chassés, the sound increased as well as more people joined in. Looking down at herself, she noticed her jeans, hoodie, and boots had disappeared, replaced with a glittering white gown set off against her butterscotch beige skin. Observing the mammoth mirrored wall to her left, she examined herself. The bare-shouldered bodice hugged her curves, flaring out at the waist in a waterfall of silk. Her long brown hair hung behind her in shining waves. She giggled, twirling in delight, allowing the fabric and her hair to swirl around her. Caught in the pomp of the play, her heart pulsed with the music, prompting her to join the crowd who eagerly invited her inside their circle. Waltzing alone, she moved in unison with them, her arms up as if dancing with an invisible partner. She laughed, spinning and spinning, getting lost in the sea of dancers. Captivated within the dance, she was slow to realize that even though the music still sifted throughout the room, the players were not moving. Eyeing everyone in confusion, she slowly dropped her arms. Then the surrounding crowd parted, one by one they fell back, creating a thirty-foot pathway across the room between her and a broad-shouldered, tuxedoed man who stood at the bottom step of a white-marbled daïs. You found me, Mi Alma! His arm slowly lifted in her direction, hand outstretched, beckoning her to come. Another voice struggled through the din of the music. No! Don’t go to him! The warning drowned within the hammering of her erratic heart as an unseen rope seemed to be reigning her closer to this man. Truly, she did not know if she was walking or gliding across the floor as an electrical charge licked the air. Within the struggle for defiant breath, she willed herself to stop when within an arm’s length of him. Discernibly shorter, her eyes floated upward, trailing his large, muscular form and fixated on his face. The man was unequivocally beautiful. His chiseled, masculine features were softened with the delicate upturn of a smile on his inviting lips. Long platinum hair neatly gathered behind his head in a half ponytail, leaving the remaining to spill over his shoulders in thick white tresses lying starkly against his black tuxedo. His coxcomb irises burned, rimming in flashes of gold, arresting her with his absolute attention. Her breath hitched at the swirl of lava, but it wasn’t fear, rather a jarring derived from the absolute bewitching demand to throw herself into his arms. Struggling to abstain, Gabriella instead filled his outstretched hand with her own. Touching him was like burning ice. His ardent grin broadened. “Now, my world is right.” He had a European accent, and Gabriella would have pondered on where he was from, yet, the question was swallowed up in his piercing eyes. “Dance with me, Mi Alma.” In a whirlwind, fluid motion, he scooped her up into his arms, took a gallant step out onto the main floor, and glided her into a bolero waltz. As if on his cue, the music increased in volume, though this song was not like the one from before. This one was soft: the tinkle of a piano, the hum of wind instruments, the strum of guitar. The other dancers had moved against the walls, encircling her and him within the vacant floor. Within the haze of music, it was just him, the dance, her erratic heart. The others ceased to exist. He took the lead and lithely swept across the room as if they were on air. Confused, she felt as if she didn’t know this style of dance, and yet, she did. On a slow turn, his head dipped, lips brushing her ear, sending a rapturing rave throughout her body. Her head swam with his smell of a sage mixed with lavender. “With you in my arms, I hold everything again.” She planted her foot after the next pirouette’s caress, stopping the dance, though her heart was still swimming in the bolero. “Who are you?” She turned to face him. Unaware of exactly how close he was, her breath caught as their lips brushed. Tremulously, she stared at him before he finally spoke. His eyes flecked a brighter red, his dulcet voice showering shivers across her skin. “You know who I am.” Whispers swirled her thoughts as if surging an old memory to the front of her mind. A singular name eddied until it fell from her lips. “Raith.” She was sure she did not know anyone by that name, yet, she did. His smile broadened, showing off a perfect set of white teeth. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say my name? Mi Serafina.” “No,” she shook her head. Serafina? That wasn’t right. That wasn’t her name. She was sure of it though her mind seemed so cloudy right now. Nothing was making sense and her thoughts were a bleeding haze that moved in and out of focus. But no-- her name wasn't Serafina! Yet, it was. Raith watched her confusion set in and washed it away just as quickly when he whispered, “Gabriella,” against her mouth. His lips were soft and flitted like butterflies against her skin. One of his hands slowly slid down her back, pulling her completely against him, while the other hand delicately slid up her cheek. His hooded, smoldering eyes stared at her lips; her heart clamored as she fixated on his, inwardly begging him to kiss her. “Are you mine, Gabriella?” he purred. Lifting to her tiptoes, she pressed her lips firmly against his. Although his lips were ice, her blood flooded with an intense heat insomuch she thought she was going to explode. Tilting her head back, Gabriella gasped. Raith didn’t allow the interruption to last long, both hands rushing to her the sides of her head and ardently directing her mouth back to him. The kiss deepened, the fever rose, as he teased her lips with his tongue. Just when she thought her heart would burst, he broke away, laying his forehead on hers. “I have missed you so much,” his voice drawled in near agony. Gabriella pulled back a little to look at him. His eyes glistened with a liquid that looked a translucent pink which rested in the corners of his eyes. She touched his pallid cheek gently; her heart ached to see such pain on his face. “I am here, my love.” She did not know why she said those words. They weren’t in her mind to say, yet, suddenly they were. “Forever, Mi Alma?” Si! Anything to erase your suffering. Nodding, she whispered, “Forever.” Gabriella’s eyes widened and her breath caught when Raith smiled; his fangs slowly elongated down from his otherwise perfect teeth. Her cheeks burned with the realization. Raith was a vampire? Yet, she knew that. She always knew that. “Do you understand what forever means, Mi Alma?” Fear stalked behind the exhilaration of the suggestion. Something crawled in her mind, demanding she retreat as fast as she could. So, Gabriella didn’t understand why her hand slowly moved up his chest and nestled in the crook of his neck. Nor did she know what had bewitched her, that when the next chord of the music strummed, she leaned into him again, melding them together, swaying once more to the music, and continuing their bolero. Their eyes never left each other as they danced, becoming more and more entranced as the music played; becoming more and more intoxicated each time they were within a breath’s distance. When the song faded into silence, they were holding each other as close as they possibly could, arms embracing, breath mingling. “Wicked girl. Do you know what you do to me?” He murmured against her skin as his lips trailed across her chin. A chocolate cascade of hair spilled behind her as Gabriella tilted her head back. Raith growled as his lips scaled her neck, his teeth delicately nipping but not enough to draw blood. She let out ragged breaths at his touch, his frosty-fiery kiss, his tongue licking across her skin. “Gabriella, do you understand what forever means?” he fervidly repeated. “Yes,” she rasped. She felt him smile against her throat. His heated kisses lingered there for a moment, though his teeth did not piece her skin until his mouth had trailed down to the groove of where shoulder met neck. Slowly he bit in, simultaneously gripping her tightly against him. Gabriella hissed at the initial piercing, the sting screaming at her to pull away. But he held her fast despite her attempt to flee. A moan escaped her when the pain evolved into euphoric waves and her body relaxed into near-paralysis. Maybe unconsciousness... Or maybe… she was just slipping away into peaceful death.