Gothikana

by RuNyx

“You’re very unusual, Miss Clemm. Almost enough to interest me.” He turned his eyes back to her. “And let’s just say that’s not a good thing.”

“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.”

“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.”

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

“I’m done denying this. You’ve haunted me long enough. And I don’t care if you’re haunted by forces beyond your understanding or if it’s all in your head. You’re mine now. For as long as this madness ensues.”

“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.

He knew. He had always known. And he wanted her anyway.

And Corvina knew, kissing him in that darkened classroom of an empty castle building, that his possession of her was complete, and if they were to ever part ways, he would haunt her for eternity.

“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.”

He was empowering her through their connection, making her realize she was lovable as she was, that she wasn’t an outcast, that she belonged somewhere precious. He was the catalyst for her acceptance of herself, for her understanding that she was different and that she was worthy of everything.

I’m the one people would run away from, and he’s not. He’s the mountain I build my castle on.”

A man with everything material and nothing emotional wanted her nothing material and everything emotional. They were an odd but perfect fit.

“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.”