~Dessa~

Dessa had to blink a few times, before she realized what was going on. A clawed hand was laying on the blanket in front of her. The weight of an arm draped over her was so unnervingly comfortable. How many times had she wished that she could sleep in someone's arms, and wake up to the feeling of someone holding her? How many times had she cuddled with a pillow, and pretended that it was someone who didn't want her to sleep alone? 

The Fae man had come back at some point, and had given her just that. She knew that she should be terrified that the very same creature who could slaughter her with ease, was snuggled up behind her like the imaginary boyfriend she had fantasized about. But damn, if it didn't feel so right, she would slip out from underneath his arm. Instead, she turned carefully in the blankets to face him. Of course, he was wide awake, and his hand immediately went to stroke her back through the shirt that belonged to him. He didn't smile, but his mismatched eyes had a softness to them that she had never imagined that she would see. 

"You're back," was all Dessa could whisper, enjoying the warmth of his body heat far too much. 

She felt like she should apologize for questioning his identity, for touching his scar, and causing him to vanish, but how ridiculous was that? Something flashed across his stoic face, and he grimaced, his hand stilling at her waist. His wings of shadow were rippling loftily behind him, and once more, she found herself gazing at them in wonder. As if her attention called to them, they loomed closer, hovering just above their embrace, like they wanted to wrap around her and hold her, too. The Fae man seemed to be struggling to choose his words, but he didn't end up voicing a single one. 

"Am I crazy?" Dessa wondered out loud, her fingertips tentatively grazing the hard muscles of his chest through his shirt as she looked at that familiar-looking scar on his throat. "I thought you were someone that I've met before . . . "

His breath hitched, and his white eye brightened. It was so clear that her caress was something that he enjoyed immensely, yet he was trying hard not to react to it. His hand tightened on her hip, and she felt the faint pressure of his claws digging into the fabric, but it wasn't hard enough to rip through. The sensation of it was a little thrilling, and she realized that she didn't mind if he punctured it again. She was already feeling more at home, wearing his shirt that was riddled with holes, than she did when she used to wear her favorite hoodie. Like the shirt exemplified how this monstrously divine creature owned her, and how he could easily tear her apart with his claws, but instead, he was careful not to. She was insane, that was obvious. Because knowing that made her feel . . .  special. She had never felt like that before. 

"Do you want me to be that man?" 

His question struck an odd chord with her, and her eyes snapped up to judge his expression, but his face was willfully blank. She didn't know how to answer that. 

"Would you rather have him as your mate?" 

As he spoke, Dessa couldn't help but gasp, because his form started shifting like the other Fae creatures had, and she was suddenly seeing him as Zaire, though it wasn't a solid illusion. The real him was underneath, and it was hard to focus on the details of either form as neither took a firm hold. The form that was the Zaire that she had met - his eyes matched, both equally dark, closer to brown than black, his features were less sharp, his skin had more of a golden tan, and his wings were invisible, blinking in and out of her periphery. She looked down at the arm that was wrapped around her, and saw his winding tattoos. 

"Is this . . . " Dessa peered into his eyes, willing herself to see through the illusion, so that the juxtaposition would stop making her dizzy. "I don't understand?"

In some way, that was a lie. She already knew deep down that the human disguise was magic, and that it wasn't his natural form. 

"It's called a glamour," and as he explained, he allowed the disguise to dissipate. "We don them to traverse the mortal world. If we don't use one there, we can't be seen. It gives us the ability to interact with mortals, as if we were one of them."

Oh, fuck!  If what he was saying was true, then the Fae could have literally been crawling around everywhere, and she would have never known. They could have stood right in front of her, followed behind her, hid in every corner of her aunt's house! It seemed that she had every right to harbor a phobia of the creatures. She had never once been safe, no matter her Auntie's brainwashing. 

"Does that mean that - " Dessa's hands shook and she pressed them against her own chest, like if she didn't, her heart would fly out of it as if it were a bird let out of its cage. " - you are  Zaire, but his - I mean - your appearance was fake? Or is your real name . . . ?"

One hand left her chest to clap over her mouth before she uttered Pathos.

The Fae man sat up in bed then, letting go of her, and she hated how empty she felt when he was no longer touching her. Dessa pulled the blanket around her tightly, trying to reclaim some kind of comfort after the loss of his embrace. 

"My true name is Zaire," he admitted, looking anywhere but at her. "Pathos  is a mockery of sorts, an idealized version that others choose to place on me. It's a nickname my mother came up with, and it's an insult to my character. She believed that I was born to manipulate, just like her."

"What a bitch!"

The hasty words slipped out before she could stop them, and she shocked herself with how forthright she had just been. But she was even more shocked by Zaire's response. His head whipped around to face her, and he laughed!  Not a dark chuckle, but an actual boisterous laugh, that transformed his cold features into a warm expression that made her heart melt. Fuck, it was like seeing the sunshine for the first time, after a long, gloomy winter, and it took her breath away. And when his handsome grin settled into an amused smirk, she felt like she had just inhaled a line of cocaine - not like she had ever tried anything close to that - and she was instantly addicted. She would do anything  - to get more of that sunshine, to get her next fix - to elicit that kind of reaction out of him, again. 

"You just called my mother a bitch," Zaire was shaking his head as he said it, and his mismatched eyes gleamed with mirth. "You are quite a treasure."

Treasure?  Butterflies tickled her stomach, hearing him say that to her. There was absolutely no remorse inside of her, at that moment. A mother who would give birth to a baby, only to perceive that her son would grow up to be a manipulative creature, had to be a heinous individual. Who would expect that, let alone, want  that for her offspring? Perhaps things were different for the Dark Fae, and it was an admirable quality for them to have, though it was clear that Zaire wasn't that specific brand of evil. He had offered her freedom, he had rescued her from a certain death, and he wanted to earn her trust. He was different from the other Fae in the Dark Realm, she was certain of it. She wasn't just a plaything for him, something to toy with until he got bored enough to feast on her. 

"I d-don't know about that," Dessa argued bashfully, her eyebrows furrowing as she smiled at him. 

His smirk disappeared, and his wings twitched behind him. 

"You are," Zaire said firmly, nearly glaring at her. "Do you think I would waste my time with sweet nothings?"

Dessa flinched. His question ignited something in her, something that had been dormant. That small, gritty voice in the back of her head - that had always told her that she wasn't good enough, that she was unworthy of attention or affection - was forcibly silenced. 

"I guess you wouldn't," Dessa's meek mumble of a reply lightened the storm in his eyes. 

Zaire seemed to think for a moment as his gaze left her face to study his hands. 

"You know, you never answered me earlier," he murmured quietly.

What question had he asked her that she failed to answer? Dessa stammered, shifting in her blanket cocoon. 

"Do you prefer the glamour?" Zaire clarified, flicking a wary glance in her direction. "Is it more to your liking?"

Oh!  He had asked if she wanted that man to be her mate! He wanted to know if she liked his disguise, more than she liked his true form. She didn't need a second to think about it, the answer was written on her skin, like the Mark of their union. 

"No!" Dessa's refute came out sharply, and it was completely sincere. 

His glamour was admittedly, extremely attractive, but the majestic, masculine creature sitting near her was, by far, on a whole other level. The uniqueness of his eyes, the ethereal wings, the devastating aura of power that emanated from every inch of his muscular body . . . 

He was a dangerous dream, and a beautiful nightmare. She wouldn't trade that for a human illusion, no matter how terrifying he was. 

"You're . . . " Dessa found it hard to put into words. How could she possibly explain her admiration for him? "You're enchanting. You're everything that I'm afraid of, and everything I could possibly want."

He went rigid, and his void-black eye appeared to darken, though it seemed impossible for it to do so, given how black it already was. His shadows bristled and stretched, and her cheeks burned as he gazed at her like he could see right through her shirt. His claws flexed as if he wanted to gift her clothing with more lovely punctures. Heat surged through her core, and her thighs clenched against the sensation, at only the thought of him ravishing her. Would he tell her to run, right now? 

Oh, how she wanted him to! Her most intimate place was still very sore, but she could imagine that more of him would soothe that ache. The electricity in the air shifted, though, and he seemed to calm himself, willing himself not to act on the sexual tension.

"I'm glad to hear that," Zaire told her huskily, rising to stand. "Get dressed, and come with me."

There was no demonic overlay to his command, but she didn't require it. Maybe he was  going to tell her to run from him? But as he left the room, she had the feeling that she was going to be disappointed - that gut feeling told her that he had other plans. Unfortunately for Dessa, and her sudden, carnal desires.