Gothikana

by RuNyx

To everyone who felt you never fit in, and learned the hard way that you don’t have to. Being different is your double-edged sword. One day, you’ll find your shield to match.

Darkness there, and nothing more. —Edgar Allan Poe,

Books had become her refuge, especially books with men—humans, shapeshifters, or aliens—who fell in love hard and claimed their women, body and soul. Those were her favorite.

“You might be a luring siren but I’m no ordinary sailor. I’m a mad pirate and I’m trying to resist your call. If I land on your shores, I will plunder and take away everything worth having. Be very careful giving me those eyes.”

“This is lust,” she whispered, trying to validate it, excuse it. “No, Corvina.” The side of his lips twitched. “I’ve known lust. This is something worse. This is a barbaric need to possess, to eliminate, to own. This is madness.” Madness.

“If this is madness,” she whispered almost against his lips, “drown me in it.”

“If this is madness,” he told her, echoing her words against her lips, “I’ve already descended too far.”

“I’m in your head, in your blood, in your very veins. I’ve claimed you before anything else ever could. Your body, your heart, your mind, your fucking soul, it’s all mine. Your hunger is mine to feed, your madness is mine to tame. Do you feel that?”

“You’re taking all of my firsts, Mr. Deverell,” she whispered quietly as a confession. His arm tightened. “I will take all your lasts, too, Miss Clemm. Mark my words.”

“This will last until the day the roses on my grave stop sharing roots with the roses on yours,” he declared. “I will have you even in death, little witch. I am your beast. I am your madness. And you, you’re my afterlife.”

“You’re the mountain I build my castle on, brick by brick,” she whispered to him, her eyes stinging. “You stand, I soar. You crack, I crumble.”