To Lie With Gods

To Lie With Gods-

The dream is always the same, has always been the same, since she can remember.

She searches for him, running amongst the tunnels that she knows by instinct. A teasing shadow floats just before her, leading her on; her breath freezes to the fingers that beckon to her then slip out of sight. She tries harder, reaching out, but only grasping the dank black air that hides him from view. Now and again she passes a turning from which the light glows, illuminating his flying form for a second, giving her new strength.

She follows his footsteps into a chamber of darkness, her feet faltering. The contented sighs of waves welcome her as she steps forward hesitantly, glancing around, taking in all that surrounds her; she feels the cold seeping between her toes and she smiles at the sensation. The darkness of the pool laps at her feet, blue-black ripples glimmering faintly as she dips her toes into the icy water. Around her, the cave walls glitter where the water has touched them, as if the inky black of the stone has been blanketed in starlight teardrops, and the intricate rows of snakes that line the chamber like jealous guardians seem to move in the light, bowing to her. She breathes in sharply, taking in all the splendour that surrounds her, all so beautiful, all so pure.

And far from her, she sees a stone platform that floats in the middle of the lake; an island on which he stands, naked but proud in his stance. His dark hair hides his face, upturned to the starry roof, but the wind blows it away just as he glances over to her. For a second she catches a glimpse of his eyes, dark and empty and so chilling that she cannot help but shiver. His skin is so pale that all he looks to be is a faint white blur, painted against all the darkness, but she knows he is real, so very real, because the air around him crackles with a power and desire so potent that she can feel it coursing through her as she watches him. It makes her dizzy just to look, to see him stand so splendid in the chamber of his birth.

A cold, cold wind washes over her bare skin, carrying the haunting command of a voice that calls to her from the island in the middle of the underground lake. He looks at her appraisingly as his words echo, holding out his arms to her.

"Come here, my child."

And with the command, it rises; the lake begins to overflow. Like the comforting arms of a lover's embrace, it rises, the water swirling around her ankles, tugging at her eagerly. She laughs as she follows its pull. First one step, and then another; she watches as her body slowly disappears underneath the sea of black, marvelling at how the dark water seems to swallow her slowly, drinking her in; when she chances a look at him she feels his gaze upon her, devouring her, and she submits herself fully to the urging of the tide and to his possession.

The water creeps up her legs, stopping for a moment to tickle at the backs of her knees, fingers slowly grasping their way along her body, feeling their way to her. At her hips it settles itself into a slow rocking motion, flooding her and making her tremble; she clutches at the water and for a second she fancies that she feels his hands trailing over her skin, touching her through the waves. It caresses her waist, encircling it with slim arms that hold her against the ghost of a body, swaying with her every move; it travels, leaving the faintest trace of winter's kiss over her breasts and back. Her hair flows behind her, resting as the waves rake fingers through it, teasing out the tangles so that it simply becomes one with the water that is building itself into a cocoon around her, leading her blind and vulnerable to the one she seeks, the one who stands waiting for her at the edge of his sanctuary. She can barely see him through the walls of water that veil her, but she knows that he is drawing near, and her whole body shakes in anticipation.

The water hisses as it parts, leaping away from his fingers as if he could actually cause it to burn. A glowing heat fills the space between her and the water, pushing it back until it falls into its pool once more; the waves have left her but the warmth remains, intensified by his touch, his palm against her cheek. She kisses his fingertips in hunger and in reverence, taking her hand in his; she feels his strength overwhelm her, black fire passing from skin to skin and shooting through her until she feels as if she has been melded into him by the blaze. He raises his hands, ash-white; his eyes take on a hungry gleam as they redden and glow with the power he takes from her and brews into his own. She can see herself in those eyes, an imperfect reflection of his immortal darkness that ebbs, flickers and fades as she feels herself fall out of dreams; she loses herself to him and the night, buckling, crumbling under his insisting fingertips until she finds herself awake, wrapped up in a tangle of black sheets and her body achingly empty.

The dream is always the same, has always been the same, as long as she can remember.

But Bella knows that she will never see the end of her dream, that she will always fall apart at his slightest touch... for mortals were only meant to worship gods, not to lie with them.