HEARTS: A Twisted Wonderland Retelling
In a time that I felt nothing, Night made me feel something.
When he drew back, I let myself look into his eyes. Hunger burned back at me in those flickering purple hues.
I could have asked him again why he was here. But scraping through the inner workings of my mind didn’t seem worth it in the face of him—a face so striking that the flutter of my stomach reached up to my chest.
In all the horror and destruction around me, I only saw him. I stood with him, his fingertips dancing down to the waist of my skirt, and I felt every nerve in my body strike back against the numbness.
I didn’t care how, but he made me feel, and that was something I had a desperate urge to cling to.
Setting my skin alight, Night pushed up the hem of my blouse, fingertips grazing my pebbled skin.
My breath caught as he yanked me against him, a sudden ferocity in his dark eyes. All hesitation was snuffed out of me with that one, starved look, and my entire resolve came crashing down around me.
My hand found a fistful of his hair. I slammed my lips against his. A shudder set me alight as he tore down the front of my blouse with a single tug.
The agony in my heart threatened to drown me, drag me down into the abyss. I found air in him. And I consumed it.
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