Chapter 25: What we Dream in the Dark
The night in Frigid Rock is colder than usual, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and lingers there, no matter how many layers you wear. I lie on the thin mattress in my cell, staring at the ceiling, the rough concrete walls pressing in on me from all sides. The sounds of the prison—the distant clanging of metal, the muffled shouts, the occasional footsteps of the guards—fade into the background as I try to focus on anything other than the woman who has been haunting my thoughts since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Liberty Lockwood.
The name alone sends a shiver down my spine, a mix of frustration and desire that I can't seem to shake. I keep telling myself she's off-limits, that getting involved with her is a dangerous mistake, but my mind refuses to listen. It keeps drifting back to her, to the way her hair catches the light, to the fire in her eyes, to the curve of her lips when she smiles.
I let out a low, frustrated sigh, turning onto my side and closing my eyes, willing sleep to take me. But instead of the darkness I crave, my mind conjures an image of her—standing in the yard, her hair loose and flowing around her shoulders, her body bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight.
In my dream, she’s different. Gone is the reserved, professional demeanor. She’s confident, seductive, her movements slow and deliberate as she steps closer to me, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. There's no fear in her gaze, no hesitation, just pure, unfiltered desire.
"Sevastyan," she whispers, her voice low and sultry, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine.
She’s wearing a simple white dress, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places, swaying gently with each step. The air is thick with tension, the kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and I can feel the heat building between us, a slow burn that threatens to consume me whole.
"You shouldn’t be here," I murmur, my voice rough, but even as I say it, I know I don’t mean it. I want her here. I need her here.
She just smiles, that secretive, knowing smile that drives me crazy, and closes the distance between us. Her hand reaches up to touch my chest, her fingers trailing down slowly, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My skin burns under her touch, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum.
"I’m exactly where I want to be," she says, her voice a whisper against my ear, and I can feel her breath on my neck, warm and soft, sending shivers down my spine.
I can't resist anymore. I reach out, my hand sliding around her waist, pulling her closer until our bodies are pressed together. The feel of her against me, soft and warm, is almost enough to drive me mad. My other hand tangles in her hair, pulling her head back slightly, forcing her to look up at me.
"You're playing with fire," I growl, my voice low and dangerous, but she doesn’t back down. If anything, her smile widens, a challenge in her eyes that makes my blood boil.
"Maybe I like the heat," she whispers, her lips brushing against mine, a tease, a promise of what’s to come.
And then she kisses me, her mouth hot and demanding, and I’m lost. The world around us fades away, nothing exists but the two of us, the feel of her lips against mine, the taste of her, sweet and intoxicating. My hands roam her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her, and she responds with a desperation that matches my own.
"Liberty," I murmur against her lips, my voice ragged, filled with need.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes dark with desire, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "Sevastyan," she whispers, her voice soft, almost a plea.
I can’t hold back anymore. I crush her to me, my mouth claiming hers with a hunger that surprises even me. The kiss is fierce, intense, a clash of tongues and teeth and raw emotion, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s like she’s the missing piece I’ve been searching for, the one thing that can make me whole again.
My hands slide down her back, gripping her hips, pulling her even closer until there’s no space between us, nothing but the feel of her against me, the heat of her body, the softness of her skin. She moans against my mouth, a sound that sends a surge of desire straight through me, and I respond by deepening the kiss, by taking everything she’s offering and more.
But just as the heat between us reaches a fever pitch, just as I’m about to lose myself completely in her, the dream shatters.
I wake with a start, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The room is dark and cold, the dream fading away like smoke, but the feeling of her lingers, the taste of her still on my lips.
"Damn it," I mutter, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream, but it’s no use. The memory of her is burned into my mind, seared into my skin, and I know it’s going to haunt me for the rest of the night.
I sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, trying to steady my breathing. The cell is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the prison, but inside my head, everything is chaos. I can still feel her, the ghost of her touch, the press of her body against mine, and it’s driving me crazy.
I should be angry, furious even, that she’s gotten under my skin like this, that she’s making me feel things I’ve sworn off a long time ago. But all I can think about is the way she looked at me, the way she touched me, the way she kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered.
I glance at the clock on the wall—2:47 a.m. Too early to be awake, but too late to fall back to sleep. I know I won’t be able to sleep again, not after that, so I get up, pacing the small cell, trying to burn off the restless energy coiling tight in my chest.
"What the hell are you doing, Sev?" I mutter to myself, clenching and unclenching my fists, trying to shake off the dream, but it’s no use. She’s there, in my head, in my blood, and I can’t get her out.
I know this is dangerous, that getting involved with her, even in my dreams, is a bad idea. She’s not like the women I’ve known before, not like the girls I used to pick up in clubs or the women who used to throw themselves at me, hoping to get close to the power I wield. She’s different. Pure. Innocent, even.
And that’s exactly why she’s off-limits.
I stop pacing, leaning against the wall, staring out at the darkness beyond the bars of my cell. The prison is quiet, the inmates all asleep or at least pretending to be, but I can’t find any peace here. Not with her haunting my thoughts.
"Damn it," I mutter again, slamming my fist against the wall, the pain a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside me.
I need to get a grip. I need to push her out of my head, focus on what’s important, on surviving this place, on keeping control. But it’s hard when every time I close my eyes, I see her face, hear her voice, feel her touch.
I drag a hand down my face, trying to clear my head, but it’s no use. She’s in there, buried deep, and I can’t get her out. I need to do something, anything, to get her out of my system before she becomes a weakness I can’t afford.
But as I stand there, staring out into the darkness, I know it’s already too late.
Liberty Lockwood has gotten under my skin, and no matter how much I try to deny it, no matter how much I try to push her away, she’s already there, lodged deep in my soul. And the more I try to resist, the more I find myself drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.
And I know, deep down, that if I’m not careful, she’s going to burn me alive.
The hours tick by, each one dragging slower than the last, and I can’t stop thinking about her. The dream replays in my mind over and over, the feel of her, the taste of her, the sound of her voice. It’s like a drug, addictive and all-consuming, and I can’t get enough.
But I also know it’s dangerous, that getting involved with her, even in my mind, is a risk I can’t afford to take. Not here. Not now.
But as the first light of dawn begins to creep through the bars of my cell, I know one thing for sure: I’m not going to be able to stay away from her. No matter how much I try to fight it, no matter how much I know I should, I’m going to be drawn to her again and again, like a moth to a flame.
And I can only hope that when the fire finally consumes me, it doesn’t take us both down with it.