21.9.0

Dirk yawned, glancing at the clock. Though Zyrdicia had slept several hours, he had not. He had been awake nearly twenty-two hours at this moment. After he had confined her in the East Tower, he had spent all afternoon spinning lies about what had happened at the temple during the night.

Her fabricated explanation for the attack on the temple worked flawlessly. The story of a demon attacking the temple struck at people's heart strings because of the edifice's association with the ever-popular queen. Now Dirk was already receiving outraged messages from every Karteian officer within a day's ride offering to join the force to bring Vector and Bethel to justice. The news seemed to stir up an irate nationalist sentiment among his men.

No real damage had been done in terms of Zyrdicia's secret. No one had lived to tell the truth about her blood hunger or her magical mishaps. She had disposed of any potential witnesses.

He checked his reflection in the mirror, noting the stubble covering his chin. He took time to shave before going to release Zyrdicia from her confinement in the tower.

He did not want to arrive there too quickly, after all. He wanted her to feel a bit of fear about being left there, now that she was awake.

Once she expressed contrition for disobeying him last night, he would quiet that fear, calming her with an exquisite combination of pain and pleasure before he released her. He was certain that she would forget any lingering anger over being locked up soon after he arrived.

He smiled darkly. Within the hour, she would think this was an amusing new power game and thank him for it.

When he was done shaving, he changed into fresh clothes. He left his armor hanging on the wall, convinced it would only get in his way. His sword belt was equally unnecessary, now that Erik was out of the castle.

When he was finished dressing, he admired his reflection in a full length mirror. He had been looking forward to this particular act of seductive manipulation all day. He was dreadfully pleased with his own cleverness.

21.9.1

Dirk set a torch in a wall sconce in the hallway outside the room where he had confined Zyrdicia. He pulled out a large ring of brass keys and inserted one of them into the lock. He took a moment to perfectly compose his expression before he flung the door open and entered the room.

A blunt force struck him hard in the back of the head the moment he walked inside. Too late, he realized Zyrdicia had hit with the metal shackles she still wore. Her bound wrists slipped over his head, around his neck. With shocking strength, she jerked back, cutting off his ability to breathe.

He froze for a moment, calculating the danger. Her wrists were strangely wet. That made little sense given the absence of a water source in the room. "What are you doing?" he gasped.

She hissed, "Did it occur to you that even in a dreamworld I can kick your ass even with both hands shackled?!"

Something in her voice sounded deranged. He glanced down at her hands, and noted the wetness he felt at his neck was her own blood. She had pulled at the shackles so hard that the metal edge had nearly bit through to the bone.

Unable to breathe, he drove his elbow back into her stomach, unsteadying her just enough for him to slip his neck out of her grasp. He reached up and grabbed her forearms. For once, he was relieved she weighed next to nothing. He jerked her forward over his shoulder, then flung her as hard as he could. Without her hands free to stop the fall, her body crashed forcefully on the stone floor.

To his dismay, she was on her feet almost instantly. She was upon him again very quickly, her knee driving hard into his groin. His eyes nearly crossed in pain. Her shackled fists slammed into his jaw. He tasted a trace of blood in his mouth, and swallowed it quickly, lest she smell it.

He had never seen her this angry. Her strength genuinely surprised him.

He struck at her with his fists, hitting only air. In the blink of an eye she was behind him, kicking him in the back of the legs with enough force to send him to his knees. As he went down, he reached behind him again, hurling her over his shoulder once again, hoping this time she fell on her head. She disappointed him, twisting enough to take the fall entirely on her back.

He fell on top of her before she could recover, pressing his forearm firmly against her neck to hold her down. Her bound hands were trapped between their bodies for now. Feeling her writhe beneath him, he struggled to pin her legs with his own.

She laughed scornfully. "You're afraid of me. I smell it."

He slapped her violently with his free hand. When her laughter continued, he slapped her again.

Her gaze became mocking. He felt her hands wriggle beneath his chest. Before he realized what she was up to, she had her hands around the monocle's chain. She somehow managed to not only wriggle out from under him and land on top of his back, but she had a death-grip on the chain, twisting it around his neck until the metal bit hard into his neck. He lay motionless, fearful she might just yank it off his neck altogether.

It occurred to him that she might be angry enough to kill him. Had he utterly miscalculated her? He gasped, "What is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" she repeated incredulously. She punctuated the question by twisting the monocle chain cruelly. She scowled, "I'm pissed off that you locked me in a dreamworld, you ass! Welcome to the nightmare!"

Dirk slammed his head backward against her face, then jerked the monocle chain out of her grasp. He rolled to get her back beneath him, then dropped his elbow into her solar plexus. "This is no dream, you insufferable fool."

She managed to free herself again. He groaned as her knee caught him in the stomach. Then her shackled fists hit the other side of his jaw. She pushed him off her and get him on his back. He sat up and grabbed at her, trying to pin her like a wrestler, but instead she knocked the back of his head against the stone floor.

"I never realized how much I could hate you!" she sneered.

They rolled around then, trading expertly placed jabs and punches that would have left nearly anyone else unconscious. Between them, he snarled, "I put you here for your own good, you infernal wench!"

"You damned liar! You did it because you're too fucking idiotic to appreciate what I gave you." She heard one of his ribs crack as her elbow crashed into it behind her.

His jaw clenched in pain, he slipped his elbow around her neck, catching her in a choke hold.

He snapped, "Stupid girl, how did you expect me to rid you of the blood hunger's effect if I can't punish you?"

"I used to think you were clever. Surely you could have come up with a more convincing lie?"

Exasperated and angry, he jerked her head back and twisted it, nearly breaking her neck. "Why else would I have done it, and what else could I have done, since you love any pain I've ever dealt you and fear nothing so much as being alone?!"

Her foot came down against his kneecap, nearly dislocating it. "You violated my trust!"

It took all his will power to hold on to her, given the pain. "I did exactly what you asked me to do."

Her leg snaked around his injured knee, forcing it forward suddenly. He toppled forward, dragging her down with him. They again grappled on the floor.

"I never asked you to lock me up and forget about me!" She punctuated the pronouncement with a hard blow to his chest. He groaned again, as she slithered out of his grasp and hit his cracked rib.

He replied angrily, "Forget about you?! You had languished alone but a few hours! You slept most of that time."

"You don't know how long I was awake!"

He flipped her on her back again, pinning her to the floor with his good knee, and slapping her again for good measure. "I checked in on you in the monocle only a short time ago." He added with a sneer, "You looked as though you were enjoying your dream. Was it of me?"

"It was of Azriok," she answered truthfully, forcing him off her yet again. When she landed on him, she hit him once. But it occurred to her then that he could not have possibly guessed she had had a pleasant dream while sleeping alone. The reference to a dream of Azriok within Dirk's own dreamworld unnerved her. Dream worlds should never cross over upon one another like that. She hesitated before breaking another of his ribs with her fists.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at his face, wondering for a moment what to believe. Her mind pressed into his, demanding an answer. The one she dragged out of him surprised her. The sudden, profound connection made this dream world safe again.

He used her distraction to roll her beneath him again. This time instead of her shackled fist in his mouth, he received her lips on it instead. Uncertain of her tactic, Dirk's hands closed around her face, expecting to fling her off him the moment he felt her teeth. The attack he expected never came. Instead, she now kissed him with a fervor identical to that with which she had fought a moment ago, her passion sliding effortlessly from an expression of hatred to one of affection.

Surprised and relieved, Dirk returned her kisses furiously, his hands still holding her face roughly. When her legs slid around his body, he rolled her atop him, eager to get his weight off his injured knee. Eventually lust dulled the pain, quenching thoughts of anything but desire. Her bound hands busied themselves with his belt, then with the cord fastening his leather breaches.

"How quickly your hatred melts," he taunted, whispering in her ear before biting it as her hips ground against him.

"Hatred and lust feel like the same emotion right now," she breathed sounding surprised.

"You know why that's so."

"Mm...because fighting with you is a turn on," she growled, kissing him aggressively to shut him up.

He pulled away, staring knowingly into her eyes. He mocked, "You rip the truth from my mind yet you cower before it in your own."

When he saw surprise register on her face, he kissed her before she could deny it. Their tongues fought fiercely, probing with a harshness that bordered on painful.

"You flatter yourself," she eventually smiled, turning her face away.

"Admit it," he dared, turning her face back toward him with one hand while tearing open the thin silk fabric covering her with other. Piece by piece, she tugged and ripped articles of clothing off him as well.

"Do you want me to have to kill you?" she challenged, her face hovering a hairsbreadth above his.

"You're incapable of that. You just proved it. Again." His eyes glittered cockily as he held her gaze. His arms tightened around her. He rolled her beneath him again, oblivious to his injuries. He moved her bound hands above her head, dropping them against the stone. His lips moved first to her neck, then her exposed breasts.

"I killed Azriok for it," she mused, arching her back to rise up against him.

"No. You pretended to." He bit her then. The unexpected sensation caused her to writhe a little beneath him, smiling as she did so. He added in a husky whisper, "Besides, we both know you've learned a great deal since then."

"You're certain of that?"

"Of course I am." His mouth moved to her jaw, his teeth gently enclosing a section of the bone before traveling on to her ear. "The fact that I'm still alive now proves it."

"No, it doesn't," she laughed.

He bit her earlobe hard enough to draw just a little blood. He demanded, "Admit it, pet!"

She pretended not to hear, groaning and turning her face to kiss him. She pushed his chest, moving to roll atop him again. As they moved, he repeated his demand.

"No!" she frowned, glaring at him. "You never have."

"Every time I have, you've passed out - or died."

"That doesn't count," she protested, writhing uncomfortably as his cold hands moved along her bared torso. "You know the rules in this! Drop it!"

"Admit it," he goaded, one hand wrapping around the back of her head to pull her back down against him. He kissed her again, delighted by her psychological discomfiture.

When he relented, she blurted out defiantly, "No! You admit it if you're so fucking fearless."

"You know that I already have."

"I've never heard you admit anything!" she lied.

"Do you really want to hear me say it?" he demanded, his eyes blazing at the challenge.

"No!" she yelled loudly, tugging out of this grasp. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

His hands shot out and caught her. She resisted his effort to draw her back against him, pushing him away harshly. In an instant, they were grappling on the floor again.

When he finally secured her beneath him, his eyes blazed in malicious anticipation.

Her bound hands found the skin of his bare chest. Her nails dug into him harshly. "Don't say it!" she warned intently, her heart racing as anxiety took hold.

His lips curled cruelly, as he sensed how desperate she was to flee. He savored the power over her for a long moment, then leaned near her ear and whispered the dreaded trio of words mockingly: "I love you."

Her nails raked viciously across the bare skin of his chest, drawing blood. "Stop it!" she scowled, wrenching free from his grasp.

She fought against him with renewed vigor. He repeated the words in the same mocking tone as their bodies struggled against one another. Every time he said it, she grew just a little more frenzied in her effort to get free of him. She hit at him, scratched him and kicked him at every opportunity.

Cold and merciless, he laughed at her frightened reaction. His laughter stopped abruptly when he saw her eyes fixated on the scratches at the base of his neck.

She licked her lips as her nose caught a whiff of it. "There is no blood hunger in the dream world," she whispered as though to convince herself of it.

He swallowed hard, remembering the carnage last night at the temple. He would never be able to flee the room in time to lock her in and escape. He knew she was much too fast. He faced more real danger from her now than at any time since he walked in the room. "That's right, dearest. You cannot experience the blood hunger as long as we dream."

Repeating the words that tormented her, he shifted her gaze back to his face. He caressed her cheek, sensing her confusion. Her mind was at war with senses she believed she was imagining.

Overwhelming her senses with pain and pleasure was his best strategy to keep her from figuring out how real the blood hunger was. She let him sit her up, then lift her bound hands up above her head, then bend them back down behind her shoulders. He pulled her hands down along her spine, until she moaned as her tendons in her shoulders screamed in pain.

He kissed her hard then, forcing her attention away from the blood at his chest. She quivered in anticipation, the blood lust boiling in her veins momentarily confused for something else.

When her mind projected it to him, he fully lost himself in it. Nothing existed but the infinite pleasure of sensory perceptions heightened to infernal madness. It took hold of them both, removing all volition and rational thought as their bodies moved together.

Only a very different cry of pain from her finally brought him out of the trance-like reverie in the power of the blood hunger's transformation. He gasped as he realized its cause.