CHAPTER 1
The silk sheets feel clammy beneath my skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered between my thighs. I stare up at the ornate ceiling, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows that mock the turmoil within me. Is this all there is?
I turn my head slightly, my gaze falling on George. He’s sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, one hand shielding his eyes from the dim light. His usually kind face is slack in slumber, a few strands of his blonde hair across his forehead. But even in sleep, there’s a certain... blandness to his features. My gaze drifts lower, lingering on his flaccid member that lays limply on his upper thigh.
George and I grew up together in a small town, called Coppersboro, in North Carolina. He was my first kiss, my first love and the only man I have ever been intimate with. He was my first everything. For the longest while I always thought that kissing, lying on my back and letting him find pleasure within me was all there was to sex. To intimacy.
A sigh escapes my lips. I’m glad George proposed— Truly I am. He’s a wonderful boyfriend; sensible, successful, and supportive. Everything a woman should want. But in the bedroom, he’s simply… lacking.
It isn’t his fault that his girlfriend— now fiancé—harbors desires so dark and twisted they make her blush just thinking about them. Desires of hands, strong and dominant, having me bound, pulling at my restraints; so tight the searing pain would make me dizzy. My clamped nipples would tremble. Begging. Pleading. A consuming, toe-curling passion that would make me incapable of thought.
My pulse quickens as I picture him. His face shrouded in darkness, an echo of a command that makes my body shiver in anticipation.
Desires, that are utterly incompatible with someone as sweet and innocent as George. My mind goes back to the way his handsome face had twisted at my suggestion to trying something new. Dark. I clench my teeth in frustration. Will this feeling of dissatisfaction ever go away? Constantly wondering if there could ever be…more?
The image of George on one knee with a practiced smile on his face, pops into my head and my heart drops. What am I thinking? I love George and I know that he loves me.
But doesn’t love equate to happiness? Why should I feel ashamed of something that– for some strange reason– I know would take this hollow feeling away?
Rose petals, now wilted, crunch beneath my bare feet as I rise from the bed. The air in the room is thick with the musk of our bland lovemaking— a bittersweet reminder of the intimacy that has left me feeling hollow. The candlelight flickers, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls, illuminating the careful effort George has put into this special day. Soft music, something classical and forgettable, plays softly from hidden speakers. It’s all perfect. So why do I feel like I’m suffocating?
I shake my head, trying to dispel the nagging sense of unease. These questions are pointless. They only make me feel guilty. I head to the bathroom, my reflection in the mirror confirming my disarray. My meticulously curled hair is now a tangled mess, and my makeup looks like it has been smudged by a lover’s caress – or perhaps a stranger’s rough touch. I splash cold water on my face, trying to clear my head.
Downstairs, the silence of the house presses in on me, amplifying the hollowness within. I pour myself a glass of water, the cool liquid doing little to quench the deeper thirst that gnaws at my soul.
My life is a mundane, predictable cycle of work, home, sleep and repeat. Some might even say it’s dull. A stable job as a librarian at the public library, a loving boyfriend, and a best friend who is always there for me. The perfect life, according to societal standards. Yet, a part of me yearns for something…else.
I’ve known George since I was sixteen and I’m now twenty-eight years old. He’s all I’ve ever known. I can’t possibly leave him. Who would want a washed-up, wanna-be writer anyway? I shake my head, not wanting to think about it anymore. I finish my water and head back upstairs.
George is awake when I re-enter the bedroom. He has the sheets up over his body to cover his nakedness. “I was wondering where you were,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. He gives me a lazy smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Does he feel it too? That our shared flames of passion have somehow lost its spark?
“Just a little thirsty,” I force a smile in return as I untie my robe and slip back into bed.
He pulls me close, his chin resting on my head, his feet tangling with mine. I stiffen a little at his embrace. He notices and tightens his hold on me and begins to stroke my back, a familiar gesture that usually brings me comfort.
“Lucille.”
“Hm?” I hum, my body slowly relaxing from his ministrations.
“Are you happy? With me?” He asks, a slight hesitation in his voice.
I tilt my head up at him. He peeks down at me from beneath low eyelids, his lips set in a straight line. Did George make me happy? The answer was simple.
“Yes. You make me happy.” My hands tremble slightly, and I quickly fold them into my side.
I could feel his searching gaze burning a hole into my face. The dim light illuminating a now tense smile on his lips. “Good. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he breathes against my ear, his voice drifting off as he succumbs to sleep again.
“Me too,” I whisper, the words feeling like a lead weight in my throat.
Liar… a little voice screams into my subconsciousness. I close my eyes tightly, trying to block out the horrible truth. George is amazing, and we’ll have a wonderful life together, I think fiercely. Life is too short and unpredictable to throw away something stable for what-ifs.
I’ve always lived my life within its bounds and never ventured into the unknown. Not that it matters now. The world we once knew is no more and the unknown has now become our reality. We now live in a world and society where the very creatures and myths we would read about and tell children as bedtime stories, walk, talk and even work among us.
Initially, it came as a big shockwave when they revealed themselves ten years ago during the huge pandemic that the world experienced in the year 2020. Werewolves, Vampires, Witches, Fairies and Elves… they’re all real and have integrated into society.
Humans have very little knowledge about mythical creatures, besides what we read about in books, which isn’t at all credible. I’ve seen vampires – creatures of the night that were said to burn and crumple into ash when exposed to sunlight – walk freely into the sun. And dwarves, who were described as short and stout in story books, were very tall and stocky, their muscles bulging under their tawny skin.
I’ve been curious about them. Their culture, their magic, their very existence… A prickle of unease overtakes me, making my heart pound.
I wonder what it would be like… to be in their world, a dangerous thought slips into my mind. I quickly push it away. No. I want a normal life, a safe life. I look at George’s sleeping form, trying not to doubt my feelings for him. Yes, this is where I belong.
I close my eyes, drifting off into the abyss of darkness, hoping I’ll see him again. Cloaked in forbidden desires and sinful promises, ready to take my breath away.
