Fairydale

by Veronica Lancet

There's no such thing as universal truth.

"She knew that if you grew up in Fairydale, you would be indoctrinated by the Hales, forced to listen to their agenda. She knew you would no longer have a choice. And that's what she wanted for you, Darcy. She wanted you to choose."

"Before you, I only knew violence. I was born to bloodshed and destruction, and I let it shape who I was—I embraced it," he kisses my skin as he fastens the necklace around my neck, the metal cold against my feverish flesh.

"Before you, I was chaos and ruin," he continues to speak, hypnotizing me with his voice and squashing all my doubts. "Until you showed me the alternative. Until you showed me there was joy to be had in the most mundane moments," he rasps, bringing his arms around my waist and holding me tightly to him.

"How could I want anyone else when I am only because you are? I exist for you just as I exist because of you,"

At one point in time, I had been Sela—Amon's wife and lover. Sela, with no mark, and no destiny of greatness. I'd been just Sela. And Amon still loved me.

He's in my heart, my soul, my very blood.

"To my knowledge, she never said what evil. She only said that there will be someone who will eradicate the evil in Fairydale.

"You're only allowed to be this close to me, darlin'," he leans down to whisper in my ear. "You're only allowed to have my hands on your body like this."

"You make the blood in my veins boil with a need to possess you. To be the only man to ever touch your skin—to sear myself on your flesh."

"Soon you'll be mine. No more delays and no more excuses. I'm claiming every inch of you,"

"Don't trust anyone, Darcy," he states resolutely as he cups my cheeks with his big palms. "Everyone is looking out for their own interests. You must do so as well."

"It's true that I've seen many wars. I've fought too many battles to count. At some point in my life, all I knew was devastation. I did as I was told because I never knew otherwise. I never knew how to live my life without bloodshed. But then I met you and..." he smiles. "You're just a ray of sunshine, aren't you? Making everyone fall in love with you everywhere you go."

"I want you to be mine, darlin'. I want to taste and worship every inch of you, drive you so fucking mad with passion, you will never think of anyone else but me. Only ever me. That's what I need, sweetheart," he growls, almost as if frustrated with himself. "I want to keep you to myself, tuck you away from the world and protect you from all the dangers out there, all the perversities and all the fucked up shit that goes on in this fucked up world. I only want that for you," he breathes harshly. "I only want you to be mine, Darcy darlin'. Now, tomorrow and to the end of time."

"And then you bound her powers," I note, narrowing my eyes.

If there's one thing I'm getting out of this meeting, it's that Rhiannon has blindly put her faith into the coven and their version of events. Regardless of the questions that arise regarding their policies and manner of action,

"Come on my tongue, Darcy. Give me everything, sweetheart. I want to taste your blood, your pleasure, everything that makes you, you

He is mine, just like I am his. Now, and for the days to come.

He might be a demon. But he is my demon.

"Trust your intuition. Always," he gives me a tight smile.

"Even if the entire world hates me—even if they all revile me—as long as I have your love and your regard, nothing else matters. I can be the enemy of people, Lizzie. But if I am your lover, it's more than enough for me. I told you before," he purrs huskily, "I may be bad to everyone else. But to you, just to you, I'll be good."

"I've been waiting for you for a long time," he gives me a sad smile. "When all you have is time, you devote it to perfection," he replies, a note of melancholy lacing his words.

you're mine. No buts, no conditions or prerequisites. You're simply mine."

"This will be our home, Lizzie," he whispers in my ear. "Away from everyone who is against us. Away from the entire world."

"Don't even think of that. I told you I would take care of everything and I mean it, Lizzie. You will never die on me again," he tells me resolutely.

"One touch," he says, as if trying to convince himself. "Just one touch. One taste," he breathes harshly.

"So beautiful," Amon whispers. "So fucking beautiful. And mine. My love. My lover. My other half," he speaks huskily in my hair.

For one second, I think he's going to break free of them and have his

way with me. But despite all my hopes, they seem to hold.

"You're my fucking madness, the fever in my blood, a never fucking ending psychosis that leaves me breathless, helpless and so fucking weak with want for you."

"Lydia, baby, who will wait for me?" I ask softly. "Papa," she answers, a sad smile on her face. "He will wait for you to defeat the bad people and save him."

Mr. Nicholson is Abel. And the gemstone on his cane is my necklace.

"My madness recognizes yours; just like my essence recognizes yours. As individuals, we're semi-whole. Only together do we feel finally fulfilled. I know you've felt it before."