The Cost of Wanted Her Touch - Part III

[Be****]

Another year passed. But this time, I didn’t wait.
I prepared.

The mark on my chest never stopped pulsing, like a second heart that beat only for her. I saw her in dreams so vivid they bled into waking. Heard her voice in the crackle of fire, the rustle of leaves, the lull between thunder.

And I knew—this Halloween would not be like the others.

This time, she wouldn’t ask.
This time, she’d take me.

The night of the Eve arrived like a storm with no wind. Heavy. Breathless. Waiting. I lit no candles. I left the door unlocked. I sat in the dark and whispered her name—not aloud, but in the way the soul calls for something it’s already surrendered to.

And she came.

No shadows this time. No slow reveal. She tore through the veil like fire through silk.

Her wings hit the walls. Her horns sc***d the ceiling. Her eyes—those burning coals—fixed on me as if nothing else in the world had the right to exist. Her gown was darker now, deeper than ***. It clung to her like sin, soaked in centuries of longing.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

She crossed the space between us in a single breath, straddling me, hands framing my face like she was both cradling and consuming me.

“You called,” she whispered.

“I never stopped,” I answered.

Her lips met mine like a curse and a promise all at once. This time, there was no tenderness. Only claiming. My hands found her hips, her back, her shoulders—each curve carved like desire itself. Her body was fire and ice and ash. She moved against me like a storm breaking open, and I let her take me.

No—I gave myself.

When I gasped, she breathed it in.
When I arched, she tightened around me.
When I spoke her name, the walls cracked.

Time fractured. I forgot where I ended and she began.

And then—

She bit me.

Not with fangs. Not to feed. But to bind.

Her teeth sank into the skin above my heart—over the mark she’d left two years ago. And this time, she didn’t leave just a brand.

She poured something in.

It was heat. ***. Darkness.
It was love twisted by eternity.

And I changed.

I felt my bones stretch, my breath catch fire. My skin cooled to marble. My senses flared—scent, sound, the taste of *** and smoke. Wings, heavy and half-formed, flared from my back. I gasped, and my voice came out wrong—deeper, layered, half-human and half something else.

She looked at me, her eyes wide.

“You weren’t supposed to change this fast,” she whispered.

But it wasn’t ***.
It was awe.

“Did I break the rules?” I asked, my voice now echoing with hers.

“There are no rules anymore,” she said.

And then she kissed me again.

This time, it wasn’t seduction. It was consummation. Two beings, no longer mortal and monster, but equals—bound by love, hunger, and the kind of need that ruins entire worlds.

When dawn came, it could not touch us.

We were no longer part of it.

And when the veil closed, we left together—through the cracks between realms, through fire and ash and shadow, through the space between dying prayers and forgotten gods.

She took me home.

And I went at a cost.

And I went willingly.

[ne****]

Did you mean to say Wanting? You put wanted