Chapter Four: Dream to Nightmare
I have no feelings for this creature, no bond with this woman, this stranger.
March 28, Wednesday à 14 days until the eclipse
-Vegeta-
I jerk awake in the bed, biting my tongue to hold back a scream, clamping my teeth down so hard that I draw blood. I am perspiring heavily, coated in a thin layer of sweat. I breathe with difficulty as I close my eyes, trying to forget what I saw in the nightmare.
My eyes are drawn to Bulma's sleeping form beside me. Her expression is peaceful, her breathing is calm and rhythmic. I haven't woken her. I feel thankful at first, knowing that if she were awake she'd be concerned and nag me about the dream, despite any protest I may have.
Suddenly the idea seems inviting. I long for her arms around me, comforting me, holding me close as I... cry?
I am shocked. Was the nightmare really that horrible? It isn't possible; it was just a dream. I, Prince of Vegetasei, shouldn't be frightened of mere pictures in my mind while I sleep. The notion is ridiculous.
I suddenly feel cold all over, an icy chill rushing through my arms and legs, forming a frigid pit inside my gut. I realize that I am shaking, trembling from the chill. I close my eyes again and breathe deeply and slowly to regain control. The quivering subsides and I feel warm, no longer freezing.
I lay back down beside Bulma. A strand of cerulean hair has fallen across her face. I tuck it behind her ear, cupping her cheek in my palm for a moment. I drape my arm across her waist and close my eyes, eventually falling asleep, slipping into the dream...
"You are mine," the woman says.
She reaches out her hand and strokes my cheek. Her skin is pale and soft, and it gives off a silvery glow. The cavern we are in seems to have shrunk, more closed in around us.
Her other hand takes my arm and pulls me closer to her. I cannot resist, nor can I speak. I can hardly think, my mind is in such a haze. I can only see this exquisite creature before me, only feel her tingling touch.
The room has somehow become dimly lit, perhaps from the glow of the woman's skin. I can see her more clearly now, every fine detail and perfect curve of her body. Her long, shiny ebony hair hangs weightlessly down her back, ending at her waist. Her face is accentuated by her piercing light gray eyes and the mischievous grin of her pouty, black lips. Her gown is very low cut, revealing a generous portion of her breasts, and her sleeves hang loosely off her shoulders, ending in tatters from the elbows. Her skirt is also shredded, the tears beginning not far below her hips. Three diamond shaped cuts in the dress reveal more flesh; the first hole below the breasts, the second beginning at the first's endpoint, and the third beginning at the second's endpoint exposing her navel.
She is beautiful. And very seductive.
As she holds me close to her, she kisses me. First on the mouth, then the cheek. She moves on to my neck, her arms braced around my back.
I feel such horrible guilt as I feel her lips on my skin. She is beautiful, yes. I cannot deny that. But I have my own loving beauty at home, who is still more gorgeous a creature than the one who kisses me now.
Yet I cannot do anything to stop it. I am unable to move. Paralyzed. Helpless.
She kisses my chest. I try to move. I try to focus all the energy I have on just getting away. I cannot let this happen. The guilt is horrible. I have no feelings for this creature, no bond with this woman, this stranger. I love my mate.
But I remain still as she kisses me.
As she claws at me.
It is not painful at first, just a few light scratches. Then it becomes more violent. She begins tearing at my back, drawing blood. I can feel the crimson liquid run from the slashes down my backside. Her lips move from my torso back up to my mouth. Her kisses become more intense and her long black nails claw chunks of flesh from my back.
I want to scream. I need to scream. The sinful passion mixed with the guilt and horrible pain is too much to bear. The passion itself becomes even more pain as she bites my shoulder, shredding my skin and drawing more blood. Her burning hot tongue laps up the red fluid flowing from the wound.
The biting and the clawing. Biting and clawing. The anguish is horrible, terrifying. I cannot escape. I cannot move. I cannot scream. I cannot even cry. I cannot think at all now; my mind is in a blind panic.
I can only feel the agony of her violent caress.
Biting and clawing.
Biting and clawing.
Biting and clawing.
Her lips and teeth finally leave my skin, but the daggers of her fingers continue to carve into my flesh, savagely thrashing my back. She gazes into my eyes, her gray irises sparkling as she senses my pain. I stare back at her, into her eyes, and I can see what she desires.
She wants me to help her in her lunacy.
She wants me as a king and a mate.
She wants my soul
Then I am awake.
I scream.