"She was the first thing he ever wanted that wanted him back."
793 Words
POV: Eve
She had known he was there before she touched the flower.
That was the thing about the Dreamveil. It didn't lie. It didn't have the capacity for it, the way Heaven apparently did, the way the waking world did, layering pretty architecture over ugly truth until you forgot what the truth looked like. Here everything was transparent, lit from the inside, honest down to the bone. And the presence at her back had been burning like a coal since the moment she stepped into this valley, warm and enormous and impossible to pretend she hadn't noticed.
She traced the flower's petal anyway. Took her time with it. Let him look.
She wasn't sure where that impulse came from, the deliberate awareness of being watched, the choice to stay still under it instead of turning around. She'd spent her whole existence in Eden moving through her days with the quiet certainty of someone who had never been truly seen, tended and provided for and cherished in the abstract, the way you cherish something beautiful and contained. Nyx had made her thoughtfully. Carefully. Given her everything she needed and almost nothing she actually wanted.
What she wanted was this. Whatever this was. This specific heat at her back, this presence that felt less like being watched and more like being recognized.
She looked up.
He was closer than she expected, and bigger, and the word that moved through her mind when she took him in fully was not a polite word, so she set it aside and focused on breathing normally. He was gold-skinned and dark-winged and built on a scale that suggested Nyx had been in a particular mood the day she made him, the kind of mood where you just keep going because why stop when it's working. The silver fire running through his feathers pulsed in a rhythm she recognized after a moment as matching her own heartbeat.
His eyes were what got her though. Not the color, though the color was doing plenty. The expression. He looked at her like she was the answer to a question he'd been carrying for so long he'd stopped expecting an answer. Like she was real in a way that mattered to him specifically.
Nobody had ever looked at her like that.
She felt it move through her in a slow wave, warmth pooling low in her belly, her skin prickling with an awareness that had nothing to do with the Dreamveil's ambient energy and everything to do with the specific fact of him standing there looking at her like that. Her fingers had gone slightly unsteady. She was grateful she'd already stopped touching the flower because she would have crushed it.
She made herself hold his gaze.
"You," she said. Her voice came out steadier than she felt, which was a minor miracle. "You've been watching me."
It wasn't a question. She knew it wasn't a question. She'd felt his attention at the edges of her awareness for months, a warmth that appeared and disappeared, present long enough to register and gone before she could locate its source. She'd told herself it was the Dreamveil doing what the Dreamveil did, reflecting her own longings back at her.
She'd known that was wrong.
The admission hung between them in the luminous air, fragile and loaded and absolutely without any safe response. She watched him take it in, watched something move through those extraordinary eyes, something that looked like relief and want and a kind of raw honesty that she hadn't expected from something made of that much power.
She reached toward him. Her fingers were absolutely trembling and she didn't try to hide it, because the Dreamveil would have shown him anyway. There was no point in pretending here.
"Then perhaps," she said, and her voice dropped to something quieter, something that belonged only to this valley and this moment and the charged and weightless space between them, "we should discover together what it means to want something we're forbidden to have."
The words left her mouth and she felt the Dreamveil respond, the air thickening, the light intensifying, the ground beneath her feet humming with a frequency that moved up through her body and made her breath catch.
She had never said anything that true out loud before.
It was terrifying. It was the most alive she had ever felt.
His eyes darkened, and she watched the last of whatever control he'd been maintaining slip, just slightly, just enough to show her what was underneath it. She saw the want. She saw the ten thousand years of it, enormous and patient and finally, finally, done being patient.
Her heart was doing something genuinely alarming in her chest.
She kept her hand extended.
- Writer
