XXXVI

Eva was hidden on the sill of one of the library's windows which had been turned into a plush and well-concealed reading nook, the heavy drapes serving as a thick curtain between her seat and the otherwise empty room.

She had been in there for some time now, dressed comfortably in the clothes she had been wearing since the day before, still reading the excruciatingly detailed history of her father. Raphael had been kind enough to mark certain sections for her to read so she could get the overall gist without having to consume every single grueling facet.

Although there was much of Dracula's history she was vaguely familiar with due to conversations she had had with Gabriel, there were some things that genuinely surprised her. Her eagerness to destroy the man that had fathered her into existence was now evolving into something far more convoluted and uncertain.

The first thing she learned was that there was far more to Count Dracula than she had initially assumed. He was complex, rich with history and life-experiences that she couldn't even begin to fathom.

The second, which she had already assumed but could have never comprehended the extent was his very prominent sadist streak. Much of that, she came to understand (at least in part), derived from his almost desperate need for control over his own existence, as he had been forced to endure blow after blow.

And the third was that despite his proclamations that he was hollow and felt nothing, the truth of it was he felt very deeply – so much so, in fact, that it was easier to compartmentalize and suppress than to deal with the emotional and mental scarring he had borne through a myriad of loss and disappointment.

Yes, Dracula was the Prince of Darkness, the Son of the Devil, and one of the most contemptible persons Eva had ever read about. His crimes and atrocities were too numerous to count.

But there were two additional points that Eva had learned about her father and they stunned her. The most prominent was that despite the prophecy and their strained "relationship," Dracula mourned the absence of his daughter in his life every day. He had cherished those moments when Lailah would tell him about her and the idea of having to harm his own flesh and blood in order to preserve his life was something the Count struggled with daily, especially as he fought to harden himself to what he assumed he had to do.

The other surprising fact was how deeply his feelings for Lailah ran, and how hard he tried to suppress them. Although Eva understood, at least in part, why her father felt that way about Lailah, it was clear Dracula did not, and though Eva could not find it in herself to forgive him for how he had brutally murdered her parents, she did pity the monster's self-inflicted loneliness.

By the time Eva had caught up to the place where the archangel had instructed her to stop, she discovered she didn't want to continue onward anyway, mostly because she couldn't see how things could get any better from the place where she had stopped reading. She could sympathize with her father, but she could not excuse or forgive the choices he had made and if there was one philosophy that Lailah had engrained in Eva's head it was that no matter how terrible one's circumstances are, each person still has the ability to choose their reaction. And in Eva's mind, Dracula had chosen very poorly.

His disturbing lack of remorse when he had murdered her parents was something Eva just couldn't live with, and with that, she closed the book and placed it on her lap, staring blankly at its cover as she internalized all she had just read. She was so lost in her thoughts that she never heard Lailah enter the library until the angel pulled back the heavy drapes that had concealed Eva in her little hiding place.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Mind if I join you?"

Eva moved her legs which had been spread out over the window seat and Lailah sat down beside her. The heavy volume was situated between them and though Eva thought nothing of it, Lailah did not care for the unintended symbolism of its position.

"Lailah, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"When you were Helle, did you love him? Did you love Dracula?"

"Yes," she said, without a moment's hesitation.

"How much did you love my father?"

"So much so that a piece of my immortal soul still is, and I fear will always be tied to his."

"Have you tried severing it? This tie?"

"I've spent the better part of seven or eight centuries endeavoring to sever that tie, Eva," Lailah explained. "Believe me, I've tried."

"So if we destroyed him, for good, what would happen to that tie?"

"A part of me would be destroyed with him."

"What are the implications of that happening?"

"A number of things. On the one hand, nothing could happen, or it would just be another painful loss that I would need to overcome. Or, worst-case scenario, everything that I am, every choice I have made between the moment I met him and the present, or rather the personal imprinting of those choices on my soul would vanish and I would no longer be who I am today."

"What were you like before you became Helle?"

Lailah thought about it for a moment before responding carefully, still not entirely comfortable with discussing the details of her past.

"I was extremely selfish," she answered. "More so than I am now. I still have plenty to work on, on that front," she added with a sheepish smile. "But I was also incredibly self-righteous, arrogant, ambitious to a fault, and defiant to the point of being belligerent. I was self-absorbed and cared little for humanity at large. I envied them their experiences, the opportunity they had to make mistakes and feel, but other than that, I felt they were pitiful and weak and I resented my mother for being one of them."

"Sheesh."

"I was a very different person before my human experience. It humbled me – not completely mind you, I'm not perfect. But it did open my eyes to a lot of things, as did the consequences of that experience."

"I can see now why patricide is out of the question."

"The likelihood of something like that happening to me isn't null, unfortunately – it is very real. Although, if destroying Dracula for good meant keeping you out of harm's way, I'd be willing to make that sacrifice. But this whole thing is so much bigger than I am, Eva."

"Yes, I know. Raphael told me," the vampire said, placing the book back down on the seat between them before standing, pushing the curtain to the side. "I just don't see how one man could be so important. He's done horrible things, Lailah. Horrible things. I know you and some of the others are saying he's better off alive – better the devil you know than the devil you don't – but I have to side with Gabriel on this one. Dracula is irredeemable."

"It is not Gabriel's gift, or I should say burden, to see the remnants of the man your father once was," Lailah explained. "I know you value Gabriel's opinion, dear, and I'm certain he means well, but you have to understand, Gabriel's perspective is extremely limited. All he can see are his own personal encounters with Count Dracula and that kind of prejudice can cloud even the noblest of eyes. And I'm not claiming to be noble or anything, but my past with your father clouded my judgment on many occasions when we were in the city. But we're not talking about me, this is about you," the angel interjected, consciously refocusing herself.

"You have been given a tremendous gift, Eva – to see your father for what he really is, and not in terms of black and white," Lailah continued. "Things are rarely ever that simple. I'll be the last person to deny that your father has made some abysmal decisions in his day and I will not make excuses for him anymore because they would be only that – excuses. But I cannot deny that there are remnants of goodness in him. Like any other soul, he is merely lost in the bog of his own transgressions. That doesn't make him irredeemable. It just makes him harder to fight for."

Lailah stood from her seat at the window and gently brushed the stray curls out of Eva's face.

"I'm not asking you to defend or justify what he's done, or even to forgive him. I would never ask that of you, especially after everything you've been through. However, from experience, I have found that it is better to forgive someone for their trespasses, no matter how vile – if not for their sake then at least for your own. Hatred is a terrible burden to carry, Eva. It was Vladislaus' hatred of Valerious the Elder that put him on the path he finds himself on now. Don't make the same mistakes your father did. When you make your choice, make sure it is with a clear mind and conscience. You don't have to love him, but don't waste your life hating him either."

"I've tried hating him," Eva confessed suddenly. "I've tried for so long, but I can't seem to do it and I don't know why. And this," and she pointed back at the book, "this only makes hating him harder. I hate what he did to you and to Mom and to David. I hate what happened between him and Gabriel. I hate how he's the one thing standing in between you and Raphael."

That last one caught Lailah a bit off guard.

"But he's my father, Lailah. As much as I can't stand what he's done, he's still the only family I have left. I think I can understand what you mean when you say you feel tied to him. I hate to admit it, but a part of me feels the same – even though I know of all the horrible things he's done, a part of me can't bear the thought of hurting him, at least in such a permanent way. It would be so much easier to just hate him and be done with it."

"Yes, it would – but you are made of stronger stuff, Eva, than most. His blood – that warrior blood – runs through your veins and the connection between father and daughter is a powerful one. And no matter how many times one disappoints or hurts the other, that bond, even in fragments, still holds strong. It's why I could never hate my own father, though there was once a time when I wished I could."

"You wanted to hate Turiel?"

Lailah nodded.

"When I was young and naïve and didn't understand how deeply love could run, yes. I wanted to hate him. And a part of me did because he refused to apologize for loving my mother, even though he fell because of it and I was left as the consequence. It is not easy, being a nephilim that is held to the same standard as full-blooded angels, and there were moments when I genuinely resented him because of what I was, what, in many ways, I still am. But despite our differences, I always found myself going back to him despite his stubbornness and absence in the earlier part of my life. It wasn't until later, after I made a myriad of mistakes, that I finally started to not just understand but appreciate the love and sense of loyalty he had for my mother, who by that point was long dead."

"Was it hard? Forgiving him?"

"Of course it was," Lailah replied. "But forgiveness has never been an attribute of the weak. Only the strong are able to forgive and that was what I was determined to be - resilient."

"I wish I was as strong as you," Eva said.

"You are a lot stronger than you think," was the angel's reply and she smiled.

"Do you think I can do it? Survive the ritual required to activate that necromancer blade Freya was telling me about?"

"I honestly don't know," Lailah answered. "And not because you're not strong of will."

"Should I go through with it?"

"That's up to you, Eva."

"Yes, but what do you think?"

Lailah hesitated a response, realizing that whatever she said would ultimately impact Eva's decision and for a brief moment, the angel wished the vampire did not look up to her as much as she did. The pressure and responsibility was a bit unnerving.

"The world needs a leader, my dear," she said at last. "A restorer of the balance between light and dark, and I'm of the opinion that that is your calling, to do what your father could not do."

Eva thought on that for a moment or two as she allowed the weight of Lailah's words to rest on her shoulders and settle into her heart. She didn't appear overwhelmed or disturbed by the notion. If anything, Eva gave the impression that she was rather at peace with what Lailah had said, as if the angel's words resonated with something inside of her. After several moments of contemplative silence, she asked,

"What will happen to Dracula? If we succeed?"

"According to the book, the power of the blade will force him into a deep sleep and he can only be awoken if the person who wields the sword wills it – that would be you."

Eva seemed pleased with Lailah's response and she nodded in understanding.

The two talked for a short time after, taking a turn about the library as Lailah did her best to answer any questions that Eva had regarding Dracula or this mythical weapon that Michael had gone to retrieve. When the vampire's curiosities had been presently satisfied, it was midday and Lailah encouraged the girl to go and get some much needed rest and Eva happily obliged, giving her beloved mentor a tight and lingering hug before exiting from the room.

It wasn't long after Eva left that Lailah found herself situated in one of the sofas with the same book that the vampire had been reading seated heavily in her lap.

The enormous volume was still closed – for the moment – and Lailah studied the cover as she tried to persuade herself that the painful closure she was anticipating was better than no closure at all. She agonized over it for several long minutes before finally taking a deep breath and opening the volume, turning to the first page.

Fortunately, one of the perks of absorbing the angel stone was that Lailah could read at the same speed as the archangels, her brain absorbing the text on the pages in such a rapid succession that she was able to read not just the marked areas that Eva had, but the book in its entirety – something which was highly discouraged, even for angels because although there was power in knowledge, there was great danger in it as well.

For Lailah, however, much of what she found within the pages of Vladislaus' book of life was no surprise. The details were a bit much, but everything she read she had already predicted – except for one truth that no amount of preparation could have readied her for.

Lailah paused at the part in his story when their paths had crossed again for the first time in centuries, startled to discover that even on that fateful evening when she had rescued Eva and Ana, he felt something for her – though he did not understand what it was. She then skipped ahead to the passages that described their meetings during that final year in the city, and once again, she was surprised to find that his feelings for her ran much deeper than she had initially anticipated, that his actions weren't purely driven by his need to manipulate her, that there were moments – far more numerous than she had expected – that were genuine.

What disappointed her, however, was the realization that despite the way a piece of his soul still recognized and called out for hers, his ends were more important to him than she was.

It explained – to a degree anyway – why he had behaved the way he had, but Lailah could not resist the sense of disappointment she felt when she understood at last that his quest for domination and his own survival was more important to him than her or the life of his own daughter. A part of her wasn't entirely surprised by this revelation, but she was still saddened by it. She could make no justifications for his manipulation and underhandedness, and for the first time in her life, she didn't want to make excuses for him.

In fact, the longer she pondered on it, the more she realized how tired she was of making excuses, of holding onto the hope for something that would never happen. Lailah finally understood that even though a part of her would always love the Vladislaus of old, she could not love what he was now, even with the possibility of redemption. And though she would never be able to sever him from her soul completely, she refused to allow him to get in between of her and the one person she knew for a fact she could not live without.

The choice had never been so obvious to her.

In that instant, Lailah saw more clearly than she had in her entire existence and it gave her a bewildering burst of energy as, with a snap of her fingers, the book in her hands vanished and she quickly began to make her way out of the library when Raphael suddenly entered just as she opened the door.

"Lailah, where are you off to in such a hurry?" he inquired casually. "I noticed Eva has gone to bed at last. How is she?"

"Remarkably well," Lailah replied, strangely out of breath. "And actually this is rather fortuitous. I was hoping to run into you. I'd like to talk to you about something. It's important."

"Of course," and he entered the room, shutting the door behind him, a bit taken aback when Lailah stood in front of one of the sofas, wringing her hands a bit nervously as she encouraged him to take a seat while she continued to stand.

"Lailah, you're making me nervous," he said with a hint of teasing in his eyes and she haphazardly apologized. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, of course. Everything's just fine," she said rather unconvincingly. "I just… Raphael, there is this really big elephant in the room that you and I have both been dancing around for some time and I think we need to address it."

"And what metaphorical elephant is that?" he asked with a small smile.

"My feelings about Vladis– Count Dracula," she quickly corrected and she watched with dismay as the small smirk on his lips faded.

"Ah – the man of the hour."

Lailah sat down on the edge of the coffee table across from him so she could face him as she spoke. Raphael watched her closely as she did so, observing her mannerisms as she attempted to get herself in a comfortable enough position so she could speak, though he did find it a bit amusing how she seemed to have no idea what to do with her hands. He had never seen her so agitated and it only made his private anxieties worse.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Raphael – there has been, and in many ways there probably always will be, a very strong physical attraction between Dracula and myself," she began, immediately hating the words the second they left her mouth, but she gripped her knees with her hands tightly as she straightened her back and took a deep breath.

"I assumed as much," was all he said.

"And for the sake of being open and honest with one another, you need to know that there will always be a part of me that loves him. There were moments when I was still living in the city when I saw pieces of what he was, reminders of what we were, coming through and it was those instances that weakened me most, in part because I've never felt that level of love or, I guess, physical affection, from anyone in the way that I felt it from him and I didn't realize how much I missed it until then."

Raphael could see where she was going with this and he took pity on her, deciding to put her out of her misery.

"Lailah, you don't have to explain to me why you chose to sleep with him – even if it was in the primordial realm and not in the literal sense. You don't owe me anything."

"But I–" she began, but he interrupted her.

"We all want affection, Lailah. We all crave the love and the touch and the validation of another person and when it comes to that need, you have nothing to apologize or explain yourself for. But Lailah, you need to understand, there is always a price that has to be paid when it comes to that kind of intimacy with another being and, to be perfectly candid, you really need to decide what you want – do you want to redeem Dracula or move on with your life?"

Lailah longed interject, to explain why she had brought this unpleasant topic up in the first place, but she could tell that Raphael had some things of his own that he needed to get off his chest, so she remained silent as he spoke.

"Lailah, you know the feelings I have for you, and I want you to know that no matter what you choose, I will always love and support you, whatever your decision. I just – I need you to tell me what you want. I need to know what your expectations are when it comes to us. I want nothing more than for you to be happy, but if that means you are happiest trying to save and help him, then I need to know so I can best know how to support you if that is what you choose to do. I understand that a part of you will always love what he once was – that's the burden of first loves. I know a piece of me will always love Rachel, even though I've moved on from her. But I also know," and he took her hands in his, leaning forward slightly, "that what I feel for you is far more profound than what I ever felt for her. You know what I want, Lailah. So please tell me what you want. I won't think any less of you, whatever decision you make."

It was clear to Lailah in that moment that Raphael was bracing himself for what he assumed was an inevitable rejection, which is why when Lailah finally bore her heart to him, he could do nothing but sit there in stunned silence.

"Raphael," she began, saying his name with an acute degree of tenderness and poignancy, "You are so much more than I could ever deserve."

She watched as Raphael's eyes fell from her face, clearly taking her words as the refusal he had anticipated, but she was nowhere near done with him yet.

"You are the most selfless and honorable man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing," she continued. "You have been the greatest mentor and the dearest friend and I don't think I will every feel worthy of you or the heart that you so freely and trustingly place in my hands. If I was half the woman that you seem to think I am, I would tell you to give your heart to someone who is actually deserving of you, who can give every ounce of her soul to you, because I fear I will never be able to because a small part of me will always be Vlad's. But I am not perfect. Despite everything, I am still a horribly flawed and selfish creature, and as much as I love and respect you, I don't want you with anyone else but me."

She noticed him tense up slightly at her words; his eyes, which were still fixed on the Persian rug beneath their feet, widening in evident disbelief.

"For the longest time you were my closest friend and my dearest ally, but it has been some time since then that I've found myself wanting more from you, and I never had the heart to ask it of you because, quite frankly Raphael, I am a horribly greedy woman and I want it all – but I never wanted you to think that I would use my relationship with you for my own ambitions, so it was easier to have more physically intimate relationships with others than to risk damaging the one relationship that I value more than anything in this world."

He finally dared to look up at her.

"And despite my deplorable feelings for Vladislaus, what I feel for you is so much greater and so much more profound than they ever were for him. In fact, I find that I rely on you to such an extent that it actually kind of frightens me. When I surrendered myself to Dracula, it wasn't because Michael's banishment finally gave me an excuse – it was because I thought I had lost you forever and I was so desperate to find something to fill the void that you had left me with. And so I turned to the one source of familiarity that I could find. But he is not what I want. If I could tear him out of me for good without the risk of losing myself in the process, I'd do so in a heartbeat. I want nothing more than to leave that part of my past in the past where it belongs.

"I'll admit, there was a time when I wanted to save him, and to a certain degree, there is a miniscule part of me that still wants to – but he is not worth losing you. If Dracula wants to be saved, he can save himself. I will not sacrifice what I feel for you for a man who despite his feelings for me still views me as less important than his own ambitions. I loved Vladislaus, Raphael, but the love and respect and admiration I feel for you runs so much deeper than I ever could have dreamed possible," and she squeezed his knee when she said this, her eyes full of urgency.

"I have no idea if this thing between us will work – in fact, you'll probably reach a point when you realize just how demanding and complicated I can actually be."

Raphael chuckled, resting his hand over hers.

"Oh, I am already fully aware of how demanding and complicated you are," he teased.

"If I had to choose between you and a redeemed Vladislaus, I'd choose you," she said suddenly, the confession pleasing him immensely. "He's done things that I can forgive with time, but I cannot forget. I don't want to be tied to him anymore, Raphael. I don't want the rest of my life to be determined by my convoluted history with him. I just want you."

"And I want you," was his reply, and he reached out and gently caressed the side of her face with the back of his fingers. "If I had to choose between you and a redeemed Rachel, I'd choose you in an instant. Despite the fact that you and I have never been physically intimate with one another, there is a level of spiritual and emotional understanding between us that I treasure more than you could ever imagine."

His thumb brushed over her lips with a degree of contemplation and the look in his eyes stole her breath away.

"I don't want to keep anymore secrets from you," she said, her voice low and barely audible.

It took him a moment to catch the full meaning of her words and when he did she could see it in his eyes. She didn't just want to bear her soul to him – she wanted to be with him, in every sense of the word. It was almost too good to be true.

"I've been holding on to memories of what was, of this out-of-proportion fantasy for so long, Raphael. I don't want it anymore. I need something real, and I want it with you. I want to let him go – and I know it won't happen right away because the scars he's left in me are deep."

Her fingers hovered over his lips thoughtfully, eyes full of a strange kind of wonderment.

"But I have never felt the kind of serenity that I feel with you with anyone else. I want to be with you, Raphael. I don't want anyone else inside of me except you."

"Are you sure?" he had to ask her, and though his tone was gentle, his words were firm. "Because I don't like sharing."

He sent her a teasing smile, but she could see in his eyes that he was completely serious.

Lailah knew what he required, however. And she refused to let the memories of an old love get in the way of what she had been craving for so long – she wanted to be free of Vladislaus, free from his memory and the feelings she had carried for so long; and she wanted it to be Raphael that liberated her.

"Good. I don't like sharing, either," was her candid reply.

His hand coiled around her wrist slowly as he leaned forward a bit closer to her and the look in his eyes changed from affection to hunger as he stared at her lips.

"I feel I should warn you – I'm really out of practice," he whispered, a spark of mischievousness in his eyes as his lips neared hers.

She smirked, assuming that she knew what he was referring to and she almost laughed in response.

"Then we'll just take this nice and slow," she breathed.

His lips then found hers and the contact set off sparks underneath Lailah's skin. The kiss they had shared a few days ago had been tender but brief.

But this –

Raphael pulled on Lailah's wrist gently, the one which had left her hand resting on his knee. The tug sent her palm half-way up his thigh as she found herself suddenly leaning in closer – which was exactly what he wanted. Raphael took her face in both of his hands as he caressed her lips with his, his fingers tangling in her golden hair as he rather stealthily pulled her forward some more, satisfied when she was finally in his lap, her knees straddling his waist.

For being supposedly "out of practice", he was unexpectedly deft as the tip of his tongue caressed her bottom lip, silently requesting permission to explore her mouth. His eyes held hers for just a moment before he closed them again, turning his head to the side as he kissed her once and then his tongue found hers.

As things often do, the more comfortable and accustomed they grew with one another, the more heated and deep the kisses became and Lailah was pleasantly surprised when Raphael's hands started to wander. He had never touched her like this, and though the sensation of being touched in such a way wasn't exactly new, the fact that he was the one doing it sent her reeling as a heady lust started to cloud her mind. And the deeper she kissed him, the more he touched her.

His hands explored the curvature of her back first, long sweeps of palm against spine. But then his hands found her shoulders, her collarbone, and when she swirled her tongue around his before taking him into her mouth and sucking, he rewarded her by running a single hand over her breast. Lailah gently writhed underneath his touch, her hips moving against him which in turn made his kisses more frequent and purposeful.

Out of practice, indeed, she mused silently to herself when he suddenly lifted her up and laid her down on the sofa before pinning her beneath him with his body. When she tried to press her hands against his chest, possessed with that familiar need for control, he held her wrists above her head with one hand while running his other down her front suggestively, his passion-drunk gaze holding her own. She opened her mouth to playfully protest his surprising act of dominance, but he hushed her with a voracious kiss as his tongue ravished her mouth and his teeth playfully nibbled her lips until they swelled a deep pink.

"I thought you said you were rusty?" she breathed as his mouth left a molten path along the length of her neck and the most delirious little noises started to escape her lips as their still fully-clothed bodies moved and grinded against one another.

"I may have over-exaggerated," he husked into the crook of her neck before biting her jaw playfully and then hovering his pulsating mouth over hers, teasing her. "You know – lower your expectations for the sheer purpose of exceeding them. Besides, just because it's been a while doesn't mean I'm completely helpless." She lifted her head, reaching for his mouth with hers, but he pulled away again, making her groan in frustration. "Though perhaps you are?" he suggested coyly.

"Oh, you're cruel," she whispered when his hand found her thigh and his firm grip led her to bend her knee, allowing his body to settle better between her legs. It felt so strange and yet so perfect, his warm palm smoothing along her thigh and underneath the skirt of her little black dress.

"You don't know the meaning of that word," he purred suggestively. "My love, words like 'pleasure' and 'cruel' are paltry for what I plan to unleash upon your meager flesh."

There was a delicious and wanton darkness in Raphael's tone that she never knew he was capable of possessing and it made Lailah shudder with an anticipation that was new to her. Everything about him in that moment was different and exciting and despite how much she couldn't wait to be possessed by him, she found herself trembling when she felt the hard swell in his pants rub between her legs as he moved his body against hers when he started kissing her again.

She realized – perhaps a little too late – that she had grossly underestimated Raphael and it didn't take long for her to discover that the man she was in the process of binding her soul to was full of hidden talents and other marvels that she never could have dreamed of.

Raphael promised to ravish her like no man ever had or ever would for as long as she lived.

And he was true to his word, and then some.

He took his sweet time with her until her flesh was on fire and her insides throbbed with a terrible, aching need to be filled and after what felt like an age of being thoroughly worshipped, primed, and explored by his gentle hands, skillful fingers, deft tongue, and greedy mouth, he took her, deep and slow and with an intensity that set her very soul ablaze. His impassioned gaze held hers so he could catch every spark of light in her irises until her very soul burned and radiated with desire and it wasn't long until all she could see and feel and taste and smell was him.

Her surrender to him was unreserved and comprehensive as he claimed every inch of her flesh and she could no longer tell where she ended and he began. Everything he created in her was delicious and consuming, concentrated and breathtaking, and just before she could beg him for mercy and not a moment sooner, she came undone beneath him more times than she dared to count, her brain dizzy from the waves that seemed to go on without end. He moved her and molded her in such a way that allowed him to penetrate her to her very core and her skin crawled wildly as his passions devoured every inch of her flesh.

She gave back whenever he allowed her to, but for the most part, he seemed perfectly content in spoiling her, as if possessing her – body and soul – was enough to satisfy him.

Lailah lost track of the hours that must have passed and the last thing she was conscious of before slipping into the blissful oblivion of post-coital sleep was that they had somehow made it to her bed, and though his ministrations had ceased, he still lingered inside of her, his arms wrapped around her just as her legs were tangled up in him. Their hearts beat as one and as he tenderly pressed his lips against her sweat-laced brow and the aftershocks of her pleasure continued to ripple through her belly and groin long after she fell asleep in his embrace.

And just like that, those summer days of passion with a young and amorous Vladislaus were long forgotten.