~Zaire~

"You're enchanting. You're everything that I'm afraid of, and everything I could possibly want."

Zaire wanted nothing more than to ravage his little doll, right then. He was ready to bring her to tears, pull her apart at the seams, and take his sweet time playing with her fears and pleasures, until she begged him to have mercy on her by letting himself have his own release.

She didn't appreciate his glamour more than his true appearance. He had gotten irritated at her for her insecurity, her unpalatable feeling of unworthiness, when she disagreed with his sentiment that she was a treasure. But after he more or less snapped at her for it, challenging her belief on whether or not he would deign to waste his breath on empty flattery, she had conceded. And then, Zaire had to remind himself of his own insecurity, and told himself that it wasn't fair to be upset with her for hers. He had his own worry that she would find his glamour more suitable for her. She was mortal, after all, despite the bond between them that made her more resilient, and gave her life more longevity than average mortals without the Mark. It could have been assumed that a mortal guise was biologically, instinctively more attractive to her than the visage and anatomy of a being that personified her nightmares.

Her refusal dispelled his assumption, because he could taste that she was telling the truth. She genuinely felt as if the glamour was inferior to his true form, and that made his body hum with electricity. It made him feel like he was a fucking king. He wanted to bless her for that, with orgasm after orgasm.

But Zaire had to exercise his self-control. He couldn't chase her just yet. The memory of her crumpling to the forest floor, and the echo of her weak pulse still haunted him. He was afraid that he would, once more, take too much from her, and he had sworn that he wouldn't betray her by edging her so close to the brink of death. Never again.

"I'm glad to hear that," Zaire forced himself to say. It was a grievous understatement, but it was the best that he could manage. He couldn't tell her that her words had bestowed upon him such an intense pleasure that he was inches away from mauling her like a wild beast, ravenous for the essence of her arousal. Not if he didn't plan to make good on that admission. He was no tease, and he wouldn't lend his lustful thoughts a voice, if they were anything but promises of what was to come. Zaire stood, his rock-hard length straining against his pants as he did. "Get dressed, and come with me."

Ugh. Come with me? Wrong choice of words, given how turned on he already was in that moment. That simple phrase brought the vivid memory of her doing just that, the night before, to the forefront of his mind. And her lust that he tasted on his tongue only made it that much harder to leave the room, knowing that she was wanting to satiate her own desires. But if he stayed to watch her undress, neither one of them would be leaving his bedroom for hours.

Once he was out of her vicinity, he mourned the taste of her lust receding from his mouth, leaving only the vague phantom of it. He took a seat on the méridienne, and tried not to think about the moment that he had laid her limp body down on it, or how pale and bloodless her beautiful lips had looked, even through his drunken, red haze. Instead, he focused on where he would take her. He planned to show her the parts of the Dark Realm that she hadn't seen yet. If she chose to cross the Veil, Zaire should offer her the chance to experience his world more fully, first. Perhaps he could convince her that it wasn't all bad, and that not all Dark Fae were malevolent sadists. Surely, if she could believe that, she would be more willing to leave her world behind, or at the very least, choose to stay a little longer.

Dread twisted inside him. He couldn't stand the thought of her departure. How long could he possibly survive, keeping enough distance between them for her to breathe, for her to think that he wasn't near, while he was watching over her? It would be maddening! His ability to sense her movements, feel her presence, would be greatly diminished in the mortal world. And he wouldn't be able to taste the phantom of her emotions even without being in a certain proximity with her, unlike he could in Faerie. He would be starving for them, edging just on the outside of her vicinity, and he would have to shroud himself constantly with his shadows, so that she wouldn't notice him lurking. Fuck, it sounded like pure misery awaited him. He had to do whatever he could to dissuade her decision to leave the Dark Realm.

Of course, doing that would prove that he was every bit the manipulator that he didn't want to be. But what the fuck was he supposed to do? Bow down and allow her to abandon him, without a fight? He hadn't changed that much, he still cared about his own needs, to some degree. Maybe not more than hers, but he wasn't going to be her doormat, either. He did want her to be happy, even if it meant that he would be miserable, and that was shameful enough as it was. But it would be more shameful to abstain from giving it everything he had to make "freedom" not look so appealing.

Zaire could feel his mate heading toward the living room, and glanced toward the bedroom doorway, eager to see her emerge. When she did, she was nervous. The dress that she had chosen this time was a royal blue that complimented her skin tone. That shade of blue was a color that he liked more than any other, and he wondered if she had chosen the dress, specifically, for that reason, given that it was clearly favorable to him as he adorned his home with many items of that same color. The dress was sleeveless, the neckline was more low-cut, and there was a slit up both of the sides that gave tantalizing glimpses of her legs as she approached him. He wholeheartedly approved her choice, and was considerably disappointed that he had no plans to rip it to shreds. That dress was a keeper, and he was figuratively sheathing his claws, anyway.

"You truly are a little doll," Zaire murmured, after taking a moment to appraise her beauty.

He immediately regretted uttering that compliment, because it caused quite a stir within her. Her pulse picked up, her cheeks turned pink, and her nervousness mingled with a fresh wave of lust. Only a dash of insecurity, the feeling of inferiority, tainted the flavor. Zaire cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from her. He actually tried to vault himself from her emotions, but like he had expected, he couldn't close himself off even a little bit. Ah, well. It couldn't be helped.

"I would like to show you what lies beyond the Outskirts," Zaire told her as he opened the front door, and gestured for her to exit. "I think you should see more of the Dark Realm."

Mmm.

A spike of fear washed away the taste of her other emotions when she stepped over the threshold.

"You will be perfectly safe. No one will harm you," Zaire assured her, closing the door behind him.

Before she could respond, the Pestilence swarmed them both.

"Easy," Zaire warned them, but it wasn't necessary.

"Heavenly, heavenly," one of the Pests chittered, hovering in front of her.

"What are they?"

Her eyes were wide as she took in the sight of the tiny creatures. He tasted more awe than he did apprehension. She seemed to find them fascinating.

"Nuisance, they say," another Pest offered, and Zaire was taken aback by the fact that they actually answered her question.

"Long ago, they were Dark Nymphs," Zaire explained, and the horde warbled in the air, as if the reminder was a source of unease for them. "Now, they're called the Pestilence."

His mate shook her head at the explanation, and held out her palm to them.

"Careful - " Zaire had been about to warn her that they could bite her, and even though he was fairly sure that they wouldn't, since she was half of him, it was still a knee-jerk reaction.

A Pest eagerly fluttered down to sit in her hand, and sat cross-legged like a child, tucking their dragonfly-like wings as it peered up at her.

"You are lovely," she whispered to it, and Zaire flinched at the sincerity he felt from her.

The Pestilence erupted with a cacophony of chirps, whistles, and wordless shrieks of joy. The one in her hand leaned over and placed a kiss on the tip of her thumb. Zaire could hardly believe what was happening in front of his own eyes, when the Pestilence began to dance in the air around her, humming an ancient melody. At first, their humming was discordant, and their dancing was out of sync, but within a few seconds, they found harmony. The Pest in her hand twirled like a ballerina in a music box.

When his mate glanced in his direction, her eyes were alight with a profound elation, and her smile was radiant. Zaire's throat constricted, and he could think of nothing beyond the wholesomeness he felt, seeing her abnormal reaction to the creatures. They were practically performing for her, putting on a show for her to delight in, to reward her for her appreciation of them. The Pestilence had never done anything like this, and he had never heard of anything like this taking place before. Zaire made a mental note to study up on the Dark Nymphs that they once were. Perhaps they had been like this centuries ago, before they were shunned and exterminated by the majority of the Realm.

When their dance came to an end, the Pest in her palm took a bow!

"Thank you," the little doll told them breathlessly.

The Pest joined the rest of the undulating swarm, and though it was almost lost among the jumble of their noises, one of their voices squeaked louder than the rest,

"One gets what one deserves!"

Zaire was completely dumbfounded. It was almost like his mate had wrested away some of the primitive nature that had befallen their kind, and had brought out a part of their old way that had long been forgotten. Like lifting a curse with her affection alone!

"You have no idea what you've just done," Zaire took her hand in his, savoring the skin contact. "The Pestilence will not forget your kindness. Most do away with them."

"That's awful," she mumbled softly, squeezing his hand as her smile faded. "I think they're delightful."

"You might be the only one in the Dark Realm who thinks that," Zaire said, as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Don't tell me you don't find them charming," she stated incredulously, and it sounded like a question.

"To be honest, until this moment, I only put up with them," Zaire chuckled, guiding her off of the veranda. "But anything that makes you smile like that is more than welcome."

Damn it! How dare you draw these flowery words out of me? Zaire wanted to kick himself for saying it, but her responding joy erased his shame. The expression on her face was good enough to eat. Her beauty was lethal, and he had no defense against it.

Without a word of warning, he swept her off her feet and took to the air. She clung to him tightly and screamed with a mixture of horror and excitement, as his wings carried them high into the sky. Zaire eased them into an effortless glide, and he heard her frantic whispering over the wind,

"Don't look down, don't look down."

"Look up, then," Zaire suggested with a smirk, and instead of fixing her eyes on the endless night above them, he could feel her gaze on his face.

Flying with her in his arms was much more satisfying when she was conscious, he noted. Short of claiming her after a chase, he could think of nothing that he would ever enjoy more.