ZINA
From the first ti Zina opened her eyes after the attack by Xalea Borne, she knew that a thousand things were wrong and strange about her. She hadn’t been ignorant to those changes. In fact they had glared at her till a point where she could no longer ignore them as she simply chose to.
But, Zina had perserved. She refused to bow down to the trauma that beckoned on her, and she refused to fall under the weight of the unknown. She simply chose to bask in the light of her new self, ignoring the demons that waited at the end of the dark tunnel with spiked forks.
But the thing about ignoring demons was that the more you ignored them, the more they grew in numbers, and as Zina’s eyes snapped open in what must have been the dead of night, she realised her cup of ignoring things had beco way too full till it was overflowing.
Zina could not see a thing.
Literally.
In her sleep, she had dreamt of blood and gore again. No definite face or object, just blood that flowed and trailed like a stream. Blood that flowed like a disturbed fountain in the middle of a raging Northern Wind. Blood that painted what seed like an empty town a deep shade of frightening red.
"Your eyes have changed." A low voice drawled by her side.
It was him, and the sound of water sloshing against a bowl perated Zina’s senses as a cold towel descended on her face. The thought that he was doing sothing as tender as tending to her by cleaning her body was more frightening than the beguiling darkness that now hung in her sight.
Zina wanted to ask him to stop what he was doing, but the words refused to form in her tongue instead she said. "What colour are they now?"
"The white I’ve always liked." He answered almost imdiately, his frankness startling her. "Like the colour of danger and power. I like your light blue eyes, but your iridescent white takes the prize. Tell , can you not see?"
Pain slamd into Zina like the rush of a tornado, and it spread through her abdon and then her body like a hot thing. Her breath was instantly taken away, as her body squird under the onslaught of vivid sensations.
Her throat was dry, her body strung tight like a stretched bow with a nocked arrow. The place between her legs was sending torturous signals to her brain, and her body felt generally uncomfortable like she was withholding sothing precious from it.
Zina knew she was in heat... she had expected that much since it was the night of the full moon. But it had started way too early in her opinion. It was still early evening when her body began to produce pheromones like it was handing out early end of the year gifts to all the werewolves in its vicinity
The cold towel made it to her legs this ti, the soft cloth cleaning her skin. More than anything, Zina wished she could see Daemon and the expression on his face. She wondered if he wore a chanical, bland expression as he cleaned her. She wanted to see his hidden thoughts that were always sewn shut in his turbulent dark eyes.
Zina attempted to rear away from the touch of the towel, but his strong arms held her legs in place.
She needed to shy away from his inspiring presence, and the sensation that his re indirect touch sent to her. She wanted to get away from this thing about him that sent her demons tethering on the edges... but Daemon didn’t seem prepared to let her go.
And yet, he wasn’t touching her either.
Was the man not affected by what was happening? Was he not affected by the amount of desire that hung in the air?
Bitter and desperate to get away from him, Zina taunted him while ignoring his earlier question. "Why clean with a cold towel when I can have you? Surely the Supre DireWolf is not scared to take his own mate? Or perhaps he is incapable of doing so?"
The towel cleaning her halted, and Zina knew it without saying that she had just spewed very stupid words. But she was attempting to escape a far bitter fate but sothing told her Daemon was seeing through her.
"You’re on your first day of heat. I would much rather avoid the pain and all the blood it would take to bed a virgin."
Zina slapped his hand away, acting as if she was incensed by his response. She stood despite the pain she was in, attempting to make a quick escape from wherever she was at. Wares clattered to the ground as she weaved her way through the unfamiliar environnt when his next words froze her.
"You never asked about Xalea Borne."
Zina stood like an unmoving rock as she shut her eyes against the mories and images that his words would evoke in her. She tried to regulate her harsh breathing as she fought with everything in her to gain control of herself and thoughts. But her struggle ca to naught when another bolt of pain slamd into her causing her to stagger while his slow footsteps sounded behind her.
Zina fell to the floor from the pain, clutching her heart as she felt like she would combust from unsated pleasure. The thought that she would endure this for three more days was not nearly as horrifying as the thought of facing Daemon’s question.
"Aren’t you curious to know what happened that day?" He taunted, stopping just behind her. Zina could imagine what she looked like, crouched down on the floor like a pitiable thing. Tears stung her eyes at the idea of just how pathetic she must look, and it was for this very reason that she had never been curious about that night.
Because whenever she thought about it and the tragedies that happened, and the changes that followed thereafter, she simply couldn’t breathe. And mories of that night made her look far weaker than she ever wanted to appear.
And now, Daemon would see that weakness of her. The fact that she was not much else behind the false mask of bravado she always donned before him.
"Ask about Xalea Borne, the man who killed you?" His voice pressed further, and Zina had a fleeting thought that there was no man as wicked as Daemon NorthSteed just as the panic attack seized her.
She panted hard, her fingers digging into the hard floor as if looking for so respite. Her chest felt tight as if a pin was pricking it painfully. Her breaths were coming out shallow and quick and it made it impossible for her to get enough air, and she found she could hardly hear anything above the wild racing of her heart.
She felt his presence before her, and she could feel it that he was either kneeling or squatting before her.
His fingers tipped her chin up sending pleasant sensations that were more amplified by the heat rioting through her body. He shouldn’t be touching her, because now, she wished those fingers were sowhere else... maybe in the place between her legs.
"So you’re scared of that night." He said with a voice filled with amusent. "Of course he still scares you. I an that could be the only reason why you haven’t inquired about everything, right?"
Everything? He said it like there was more to it than Xalea Borne taking her life. Like there was more to it than her sight being restored and her new ability to shift.
He said the word everything like he held onto a far larger fragnted part of her life and secrets she wasn’t aware of.
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