I'm back at the Morgenstern, the deep beat of the bass rhythmically thrumming through my body as I stand alone propped up against a table, fingers playing with a small vial filled with a fine silver powder, the luminescent drug drawing my eyes, reflecting the neon lights in the glowing particles. It is dangerously easy, drinking another shot of vodka, eyeing the crowd around me, losing myself in the darkness and the all-encompassing need to get out of my fucking head. Tapping my fingers on the table, I close my eyes, letting my body sway to the beat.
I don't know why I came back, the memories of the previous night flashing behind my eyelids, but I do know that I'm lying to myself. I'm hoping he'll be here. Fuck. It must be a curse to want someone so badly.
I'm fucking addicted to the feeling of whatever the fuck we are and it's driving me mad.
"I knew you'd show up," his voice whispers in my ear, the stubble scratching at my cheek, my breath hitching in my throat as I open my eyes to stare at Wood. He has found me, as if we are two magnets, the king and the queen of undisclosed desires, attracting each other through space and time. Right up until we crash and burn.
There's the usual cigarette dangling immobile from Wood's mouth, his image of coolness a fake facade and I can see the cracks in it. The slight quirk of his lips, the way he's practically devouring me with his eyes, the tension in his broad shoulders as he puts an arm around my waist and the way he audibly groans when I bend my body and press myself against him, there is no mistaking the undeniable desire he feels. He might be playing with me, but the game he plays is a dangerous one.
I smirk at him, clenching my fingers around the drug while I drink more, trying to get that rush of happiness inside me, the feeling of being alive. "Keep up, fuckboy," I murmur, deftly sliding away from him, putting some distance between us and still, when the neon flashes across his face, he's grinning, one eyebrow raised as he downs the glass of Firewhisky he brought with him.
"Let's get out of here," Wood says, fingers lightly tracing a pattern on my bare back and I laugh at his unabashedness.
"Didn't you just get here? I think I'll stay," I say, uncorking the vial I'm holding, taking out another one from my bag and setting it on the table. There's a small obsidian plate on the table and I spill out the silver powder, Moonfrost, dividing it up into two lines while Wood watches me. I lean down, rolling a Muggle bill between my fingers and with a look into Wood's eyes, I inhale deeply and let the sweet rush go straight to my brain. And then the club, bottles, glasses and vials, Wood's skin, my skin, everything is sparkling around me in that one moment of the perfect high, time slowing down while I smile, head thrown back as I dance away from Wood, lose myself in the smoke and neon coloured shadows, the bitter green and yellow bathing me in their acidic tones, fading into hues of bright pink and blue.
I feel him right behind me, following my every move and I don't even have to look at Wood to know the expression on his face as I dance, moving my body, grinding against some guy, his arms all over me while Wood watches. There's another rush of euphoria to my head and I open my eyes only to be met with the shimmery glow of Wood's dark, inky black eyes staring into mine, pupils dilated and mesmerising. A devilishly wicked smirk plays on his lips as he closes the space between us, everyone else at the club fading into the crepuscule nothingness when he wraps an arm around me, the scent of him achingly familiar and terrifyingly electrifying.
We're dancing around each other, the music buzzing in my ears as everything slows down, time, space, our bodies like two flames, slick against each other, lips brushing against burning skin, but somehow out of reach, never meeting and I laugh, my hands in the air as I spin round and round, my mind momentarily dizzy and finally, Wood comes back into focus, leaning down and trailing kisses up my neck, leaving bright red marks on my pale skin.
"You fucking drive me insane," he murmurs, tangling his fingers in my hair, the back of my neck inflamed with the feel of him when he pulls at my hair, angling me closer and there's a thrill up my spine at his roughness. "Stop teasing me," Wood whispers, pulling my body flush with his, fingers digging deep into my skin.
I raise an eyebrow at Wood, challenge twinkling in my eyes as I try not to get completely lost in him. "Make me," I say, teeth grazing my bottom lip and that seems to be enough for him to lose control. Wood crashes his lips on mine and the taste of him is like another rush of a drug to my brain, coursing through my body and making me come alive.
And then I can't tell where he ends and I begin, this dance between us seemingly an infinite game of who has the upper hand, but when I bite down on his neck, Wood finally loses control, hungrily kissing me back, pushing me against the wall, his breath hot and heavy against my skin when he stops for a moment, staring at me, the position eerily similar to the one from the night before. I take a shot of Wildfire from the table, Wood matching me and in that moment I realise that I'm falling into a trap of my own creation, but the fall is sweet and addictive, the trap desperately haunting.
I tug at his belt and he follows me through the crowded club, through neon smoke, grinning like a devil when we stumble into the bathroom at the back, thankfully empty, and he barely has the time to turn the lock before we're kissing again, my teeth around his lips, his hands hitching up my dress roughly, fingers already slick.
Scratching at his back makes Wood groan and I smirk up at him, rolling my hips slightly before he turns me over and we're looking at our reflection in the cracked mirror, the image oddly distorted. Just like this unspoken madness between us.
Time slows again as Wood's hand travels from my collarbone to the straps of my dress, and whether from the drugs or some extraordinary magic, I see golden sparks trailing his fingers while he slides the dress down, my nipples hard and a breath hitches in my throat when he pulls at my hair, my back arching and tits pressed against the cold cracked mirror, his hand travelling lower and he's recreating the obscene image from the photo shoot, only this time, I can feel the sweet release building up inside me, pulse racing as he plays with my clit, his other hand now around my neck, my sweaty hair falling into my eyes.
There is fire in my blood and I need more friction, bending against him until finally, he thrusts into me, the mirror cracking even more and we're both groaning loudly, his movements harder and faster, almost furiously so, my body bruising but I don't feel any pain when his grip tightens around my neck, his lips igniting an inferno on my skin, and I come, hard, heavy, my scream drowned out by the angry music, Wood following with a hissed out curse and clutching me tightly, watching me in the now foggy mirror which shatters into a million sparkling pieces before us.
"Fuck," he murmurs against my skin, still holding me, my palms bleeding from a couple of small cuts, the blood dripping on the broken glass.
It is almost entrancing, watching the crimson spread over the glass, a poetic metaphor of our wickedly twisted physical fatality.
Avoiding Wood's eyes, I fix my dress in silence, leaving bloody handprints on the expensive material, pulling the straps over my shoulders as Wood stands behind me, buckling his belt. "We…," I start but Wood closes the space between us and kisses me before I can say anything, the taste of him spicy and burning.
"We're doing more of these," he says, pulling out more vials of Moonfrost and even though I know I should disappear, to end this, I still grin, unable to refuse, and take one vial for myself, the powerful rush clouding my brain before we're out, dancing together, the smoke twirling itself into impossible shapes around us. We are lost in the infinity of delirium, the burning inside of us too powerful to let it go.
It's almost morning by the time we're stumbling to Wood's hotel, still too high to Apparate or give a fuck about who might see us together. Wood practically carries me through the dark streets of Hexenheim, only parts of it lit up with a medley of floating candles, small fires, fairy lights and hovering light bubbles in various colours, faint sounds of music wafting in from behind closed doors, a couple of centaurs drinking outside of a bar, unsuccessfully trying to dance, too drunk for any kind of coordinated movement and I'm laughing so much that my cheeks hurt.
Wood puts a hand over my mouth while we pass them, his eyes twinkling. "Almost brawling with centaurs…," he says softly, trying not to laugh and in that moment I feel something uncoiling inside me, a trickle of unfamiliar feelings spreading their cloying poison through my heart.
Wood's room is the penthouse on the last floor of the Corona, probably the poshest hotel in Berlin, but I don't have time to look around before Wood throws me on the bed with a smirk, almost ripping my dress off, licking my tits and kissing the inside of my thighs, dragging his teeth along my skin and his tongue leaving my mind blank as I cry out.
Wood takes out his pack of Ashwinders and lights one up, offering it to me. I take it, if only to have something to do, inhaling deeply and looking out the window at the rising dawn. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Wood, his passive mask back on, but I can still feel the tension radiating off him. I'm leaning against the railing of his balcony overlooking Hexenheim, a silk robe thrown carelessly over my naked body, the cold penetrating my bones. But none of it matters when I consider him.
I see where this is going, where it had already gone. Multiple times. I can feel a tear rolling down my cheek, unbidden and unwanted, and I take a drag from the cigarette, wiping the tear away. I need to leave. If I don't, it's going to be Wood who leaves me.
I look around the room, all black and gold, and yet it doesn't feel claustrophobic like I thought it would, being with him. I grab my dress which miraculously survived and put it back on while Wood watches in silence, just sitting on the bed, sprawled naked, and smoking.
And somehow, I am still drawn to him, I can't bear his silence, his glare, his clenched jaw. I want him. Fuck.
"You're leaving again," he finally says, looking me in the eyes and something twists inside me. "So, what, I'm good enough to fuck, not good enough to date? Is that some of your fucking twisted logic, Freya?"
"You don't even know me and this… It's not happening. I didn't think you'd care," I mutter, avoiding his eyes, knowing deep down inside that maybe I'm saying all the wrong things. But I can't stop myself now.
He straightens out and frowns. "You're… I've never felt this. It's different than with anyone... Fuck, did you use the Veela thing on me?" Wood asks, raising his voice and his growing anger palpable in the air, emanating from him.
His words twist a knife inside my heart and, for a moment, I can't breathe. "I would never do that to someone without consent," I say in a low voice, my hands shaking so badly that my bag drops to the floor. "How can you even think… You know what, fuck you!"
I turn on my heel and pick up the bag, starting towards the door but Wood suddenly springs out of bed and grabs my arm, twisting me around to face him.
"I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't mean that," he says, and I want to believe him, but the fear I feel is too real for me to let it go. Who would ever trust a Veela? I had already been burned.
"Stay," he murmurs, burying his head in my hair, hugging me against him.
I have to blink a couple of times to stop the tears that are threatening to spill out, but finally, I manage to disentangle myself from Wood. I can't lose myself in him like I already did. He will only break my heart.
"I have to go."
