Avriel Kaplan: Well dressed, well groomed, beautifully handsome, quiet and brooding and exactly the kind of man Ariel Declan doesn't need to know. But, that is not for her to decide.
Alexander Kirk: wickedly handsome, well known and well liked, egot...
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If she noticed or understood what he had said, she gave no indication, so he didn't react either. He just trudged on into the next thing on his agenda.
"Your dream last night was powerful enough to knock you off the bed. Let's move over there where there is room for us both to sit so we can discuss your dream." He took her hand and led her to the opposite corner of the room where a small table and two winged chairs and the matching settee were arranged around a lamp to add comfort and variety to the room. She sat on the settee and folded her hands in her lap. She was feeling a bit overwhelmed. And that dream was starting to come back to her since she wasn't distracted by a strange presence in her room.
"Avriel, can I have a moment please?"
"Of course." He sat quietly and tried not to stare at her. She hadn't done anything with her hair other than run her fingers roughly through it and pull it back up into that crazy knot on the top of her head. It was a mess of black whips everywhere. Her sweats were loose and baggy, but the grey was an alluring color on her. Her eyes were still sleepy. She was a whole mess of adorable. So fragile and precious. She still smelled of sweet red wine and citrus. He found himself watching her as she sat anyway.
Ariel looked up and found his eyes. She held them for a long while before her mouth started moving and words started tumbling out. "It was awful. Just awful. I. I don't know where to begin."
"Start at the beginning."
"I don't want to talk. I don't know how to describe it. Can I show you?" She stood to be closer to him, so she could touch him easily. He stood to move closer to her. They collided in the middle and laughed.
"Here, sit." He sat them on the settee facing each other. "This will work. Now, what do you need to show me?"
"Your hands." He offered her his hands, as she had requested, and she took them. The vision hit him right away. He hadn't let the wall down, he was a little alarmed that she could invade his mind like that. Then he realized she wasn't in his mind. She was projecting her memories to him through their contact.
'She was walking down a dark alley on a cold and rainy moonless night. Not a single lamp was lit along the dank street. It reeked of death and despair. Wherever she was, it was a cold, cruel and unforgiving place. There was nothing but shadow everywhere she looked, shadows within shadow. There was movement in the darkness, a noise unfamiliar and frightening behind her. She was uncomfortable, alone and frightened in a place she was unfamiliar with. Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow. They could detect nothing. Her tiny frame started to tremble in fear. There was the scrape of a boot on cobblestone behind her. She wanted to run, but her legs would no longer hold her weight. She stumbled and fell when she tried to run. She was wicked cold and very hungry. Her mouth was dry, and her empty stomach burned. How long had it been since she had a proper meal? She couldn't recall. The boot scraped again behind her and she scrambled to her tiny feet. She was a wafer-thin wisp of a girl, just a girl.
The boot behind her scraped the cobble again and she started to run in the dark and desolate alley. The gutters were covered in filth, the cobble not much better. The stone was cold and rough under her feet. Still, she ran. Behind a voice called from the darkness. Its words were colder than the night. They stung, and they scared her even more. She didn't know it was possible to be that scared. They called her a witch and a petite whore, a filthy little whore. They promised to catch her and show her what all of that meant. The boots scraped, again and again, fast and closer to her. She ran on.
She ducked into a dark empty doorway to hide. She couldn't run anymore. She fought to hold her breath quiet as she sank to the ground beneath her and drew her knees to her chest in an effort to make herself as small as possible. She was certain that the pounding of her heart in the otherwise quiet night would give her position away. The boots stopped a few feet from where she sat huddled against the dark and the cold and the fear that coursed through her body. Silently she prayed to whatever gods were listening to not be found.
Apparently, no gods were listening, or perhaps they were.
"There you are you, little witch." The voice boomed. She was jerked up to her feet by her hair. The owner of the voice was so much bigger than she. A stinging slap struck her tender cheek and caused her head to jerk to the side, pulling her hair. Her scalp was on fire. Her tears were cool on her cheek. She was slapped again and thrown against the door. "How dare you? You filthy little whore. I will show you what you were supposed to do. When I am done with you, no one will want you anyway." He grabbed her hair with one hand her dress in the other. He spun her around and slammed her bodily into the wall. Her lips broke open and bled from the rough contact with the wall. He held her by her hair at arm's length, gripped her shoulder and jerked her around, slamming her against the wall again. "You could have had it good, it could have been so much better for you if you had just done what you were told. You disobeyed, and you ran. You will be punished. He smacked her again and again. His breath was hot and fetid on her little face. He spit as he growled at her. It was a horrible way to die. Beaten and raped in a dark alley, hungry cold and afraid. She was seeing white spots dance before her eyes. At least she wouldn't be conscious for it.
He was yelling at her again, hitting her harder and harder. He ripped the front of her dress. Then yelled at her for ruining it. He was in the middle of a tirade that she could no longer understand, then he was gone. Simply gone.
She woke wedged between the crates and the wall. It was still cold. She was still wet. Her face hurt, her head was pounding, her scalp was on fire, but she didn't hurt anywhere else. She figured it would hurt. She couldn't make sense of where she was, couldn't make sense of anything, couldn't make sense of the sounds she was hearing. She listened. Something was growling, dark and low. It did not sound like the sound would come from a man or any animal that she was familiar with. There was a sickening smacking-slurping sound accompanying the growls and grunts too. She didn't know at all what she was hearing.
She had to look. It was a mistake. A very big mistake. She peeked around the corner of the crate she was stashed behind. In the alley lay the brutal man that had attacked her. That didn't make her upset in the slightest, but on top of that man was another. The growling smacking-slurping sounds came from him as he held the dead man's arm to his lips. She gasped at the sight and instantly regretted it. Whoever, whatever was atop the big man turned at the quiet sound she made. Cold, lifeless yellow eyes looked and her. Through all the abuse she had just endured she didn't scream, didn't cry out once. One look at those unnatural eyes and pure terror stabbed her heart. She started screaming, kicking and trying to pedal herself backward and couldn't stop.'
Ariel started to shake, a scream moments away from her lips, as she shared the dream with Avriel. It was detailed down to the drops of blood dripping from the yellow-eyed man's mouth. She felt the pain, the fear, emptiness, and despair that the poor girl had felt. It was not an ordinary dream. Not at all. It was indeed a night terror.
He felt her start to tremble, yet she pushed on determined to show him all. When she finished the dream, he stayed in her mind and reached to comfort her. He wanted to wipe the dream away, but he didn't know how her mind worked. It was very different from other humans. He didn't understand it at all. She could push to him. Push without entering his mind. Was that what was done to her, why she had the dream, a dream that seemed too vivid to be a dream. He'd have to teach her to block that and guard her if he couldn't. He wrapped her in his arms. He set aside his own wants needs and fear and held her tenderly close to him and let her tears fall against his chest.
