Private Tales The Price of Defiance

[Sadie]

"Hmm?" Sadie's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Nikolai's voice, bleary and confused. The apology hung in the air like a ghost. Unexpected, unwanted. She blinked up at him, brows knitting together, still half-asleep, her mind catching up to the words he'd said.

"What.." She murmured, barely audible as she tested the word aloud. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she shifted, dragging herself up and over him, her wings trailing behind like her shadow. One hand braced against his chest as she settled herself atop him, straddling his waist. Dark hair spilled around her shoulders, a curtain veiling her face in shadow.

Her other hand moved to cup his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. She was still half-dreaming, she was sure of it. Still caught in remnants of a world where she could be so bold. A world where he didn't look at her like he was breaking apart. "Stop." She whispered. Her tone was sharp. "You didn't make me a part of anything. I know what I did."

Her thumb brushed across his cheek, tracing faint stubble. "You are a part of me. Not the other way around. You have been since before I even knew your name." She continued, her voice softening. "I don't know when it happened, but I read the story. From Eluin. The one of my life. Fate did this. It was written before we ever met."

Her attention focused on the hand over his chest, to the ink that crept over her own skin. Thorny vines and delicate flowers woven together. Her finger traced the patterns. "The darkest of the Ail'thain...with a void where his heart should be...would find a light to fill it..."She was murmuring, mostly to herself. "A flame he couldn't put out. A life he would claim, but one which would claim him. Salvation and ruin tied together with a crimson thread."

Sadie's fingertips brushed over the dark ink, her hand splaying where the pattern continued from him to her. A matching mark, proof of the bond. Proof that no matter how hard he fought it, no matter how hard she fought it, this was how it was meant to be.

"I didn't understand it at first. I didn't want to." She admitted, "But now...I know. It isn't just the bond. It's not just fate. I wanted this, too." Her hands moved to his shoulders, anchoring herself there. "I did what I was supposed to do," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly but wholly unyielding. "I did what I wanted to do. Because you are mine. And if this is what ruin feels like, then let it ruin me like the prophecy claims."

She leaned forward, pressing a gentle, almost chaste kiss to his throat. "I am not afraid of you. I chose this."

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai stilled as she climbed atop him, his breath catching the moment one hand settled on his chest and the other locked his gaze in place. He hadn’t expected her boldness. Nor had he expected her softness. He had expected to see disgust, fear, regret, but instead found steel wrapped in silk. Her voice was a blade, sharp and certain, and yet it soothed him. Undid him.

His hands moved without thought, settling on her waist, the press of his palms possessive, grounding. His fingers slid down, slow, fitting themselves into the curve of her hips like he’d held her a thousand times before. Like he might never let go again. He didn’t interrupt her, didn’t dare. His eyes, dark as storm clouds and just as full, tracked her every word, every movement.

And then she spoke the prophecy.

The darkest of the Ail'thain...with a void where his heart should be...would find a light to fill it..

He couldn't help but cast his gaze from her as she recited the words she'd read. A void... Light and flame and claims and salvation and ruin...His jaw tightened and he swallowed. Her voice echoed with a weight he’d only ever known in blood and death, but now… now it tasted of something dangerously close to hope. She said she knew what she was doing. That she wanted this. That she chose him... That he was hers.

His gaze snapped back to hers. He should have denied her, he should have told her to run far and fast, to burn the thread between them and find a life that didn’t lead to ruin. But as she claimed him as her own, kissed his throat, and anchored herself to him like he was something solid instead of the chaos he’d always been… he knew it was already too late.

He was the void. And she was the first light to ever dare shine into it. A breath shuddered out of him. A sound low and full of something ancient. Relief. Hunger. Worship.

"You should be terrified of me," he whispered, voice hoarse, fingers curling into her skin as if to remind himself she was real. "I am everything you’ve been warned about. Everything that should have destroyed you." His hand ghosted up her sides. "And yet here you are… undoing me with every word you speak."

His fingers dove into her hair, his hand gripping the nape of her neck, his eyes half-lidded and his voice a vow drawn from the bones. "Gods help anything that tries to take you from me now."

 

[Sadie]

She didn't flinch when his hands slid over her body, curling into her skin and trailing up her bare torso. She didn't retreat when his fingers speared into her dark tresses and gripped her by her neck. If anything, she leaned into hit. Into him. Looking down at him, her breaths were steady, eyes sharp.

"I'm not the one who should be afraid, Nikolai." She murmured. "You don't know fear...Not yet."

Her fingers traced the ink along his skin, the proof of what had taken root between them. What was always inevitable. But it was only half of the story. The part of them that was safe. The part which could have been normal. Happy, even.

Sadie's gaze dropped to his lips, a flicker of something sad and strangely fond was present in the way she looked at him. "That," Her eyes dropped further down, back to the ink which bound them together. Eternally. "Was not the crimson thread being tied." That sadness flickered again when she looked back up to his face.

"Mates..." Her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile that still didn't match her eyes. "That was what Eluin said, wasn't it?" The name aloud made her want to cringe, but she fought it. If he was lucky, Nikolai would be quick with the kill when he found him. "How unfortunate for you. To be bound to such a cursed fae girl."

Sadie's eyes glinted as she let him pull her down closer. "And how unfortunate for you, Nikolai, that I am yours. Not just by a thread or a prophecy. Your mate." She tilted her head, hair cascading around them as she brought her lips dangerously close to his throat. Her lips hovered there, breath grazing him like a phantom touch.

"Tethered to me in every way. In blood. In soul. In the darkness the gods would have warned us of." He looked like he might devour her, but still she pressed in closer until her lips pressed gently against his throat. A moment later, her teeth ghosted along the skin, refusing to pierce it. "You took from me. Ravaged, drank, claimed me."

She kissed the hollow area beneath his jaw. "But you didn't finish it." Her hand slid to his ribs, trailing lower. Heat curled into her voice like smoke and shadows. With an exhale, her tongue flicked against his pulse. "You're forgetting that you're mine, too. And to seal the crimson thread, I have to taste you."

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai’s breath caught in his throat. Mates.

The word echoed through him like a curse, a prayer, a death knell wrapped in silk.

He hadn't thought it possible. Because a mate required a soul to bind with, and he had never believed himself capable of being bound to anything but shadows. Until her.

His body shifted beneath her, tension rippling through every muscle as her fingers trailed fire across his skin, as her voice wrapped around him like velvet and thorns. Like Ilithore. She leaned in like she wasn’t afraid to burn, her mouth grazing his throat, her breath fanning his pulse, and it took everything in him not to snap. Not to give in completely.

She was stunning. Lethal. Soft in all the places he didn’t deserve and wicked in all the ways that made his darkness rise to meet hers. Had he ever wanted something this much? In all the centuries of carnage and silence and solitude? No. Nothing like this. Nothing like her.

To seal the crimson thread, I have to taste you.

The world narrowed to the press of her lips and the promise of teeth. He froze.

The full weight of her words slammed into him, more than lust, more than fate. The final tether. The exchange of blood that would finish what had already begun. Forever.

His fingers clenched at the back of her neck, dragging her head back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes burned a violent, dangerous glint that flickered between fury and hunger and something terrifyingly close to fear.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” he growled, voice low and cracked with restraint, his lips brushing hers with the threat of it. “You have no idea what that would make you.”

His grip trembled. Not with anger, but with the terrible effort it took to hold back.

“You think I claimed you before?” His laugh was low, humourless. “That was nothing. A scratch. A whisper. If you drink from me, Sadie, there is no going back.”

He stared at her, wild-eyed and raw. “You’ll feel everything. Every wound. Every sin. The ghosts. The hunger. My blood will change you. Mark you. You’ll never escape me, not in this life, not in the next.”

He leaned in until their foreheads touched, until his lips grazed hers in a breath of surrender. “You’ll be mine. Entirely. In ways that break people.”

His hand slid from her neck to her jaw, cradling it with a tenderness that betrayed every vicious word he’d just said. His thumb stroked over her lips, parted, waiting, aching.

“I should stop you,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I should spare you from this.”

And in his chest, the ink pulsed again. Alive, waiting. Wanting.

 

[Sadie]

Sadie's head was wrenched backward, baring her throat like prey caught in Nikolai's snare. Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath his fingers, but her eyes never left his. Not even when that dangerous, fearful glint returned to his gaze. Not even when his breath dragged against her lips in a threat laced with desire.

Her body trembled, but it wasn't with fear. It was the unbearable tension of holding back something that had already been decided.

"I don't know what it would make me, but I'm already a monster." She whispered, breathless and low. Her voice cracked like the flint he'd used to light the long dead fire. "That's the worst part..."

Her smile was sharp and soft all at once- bitter with a kind of sorrow that only someone born to ruin could carry. "I'm still here. Because of you. Because the gods had enough of you stopping an inescapable fate."

She shifted in his lap, slow and deliberate, letting her weight press into him as her arms coiled around his shoulders. Her fingers curled into his skin where ink pulsed beneath her palm like it was responding to her touch. Claiming her.

But she pulled her head back from where he held her against his forehead and leaned down until her mouth was back over his pulse. "You hate it, don't you? That it's me. That the gods tied your life to mine and you cannot fulfill your order." Her smile turned crueler, sad almost. He couldn't see it, but he could hear it in her voice when she spoke.

"But you're stuck now," She said, her breath molten against his icy neck. "Fates are funny like that."

Power simmered beneath her skin as her lips ghosted over his flesh and then pressed harder. A trail of kisses along his neck, up his jaw and finally she kissed him again. Not soft, not slow, but full of that same fury. The fury of the inevitable. The storm they were both thrown into. A prophecy neither could run from.

"You should stop me," She murmured when she took a breath. "But not now. I plan to take my time before we ruin the world."

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai’s hands twitched against her skin, as if torn between dragging her closer and throwing her off. His jaw clenched hard enough to ache as she kissed him, hard, with the weight of doom wrapped in longing, and every inch of him screamed resist.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Gods, why couldn’t he?

Her words were blades, flaying him open. You hate it, don’t you? That it’s me.
Yes.
Yes, he did.

Not because she was unworthy, but because she was real. Because he could feel the bond wrapping tighter around his bones with every breath she stole from him, every kiss pressed against his throat like a death sentence. And he had spent centuries convincing himself that nothing, no one, could bind him the way Morrwyn once had. That the hollow in him was permanent.

And yet… here she was. Slipping past every defense like moonlight through fractured glass. It was a dangerous thing.

His grip on her tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to warn. A silent snarl curled on his lips as her kisses seared their path up his neck, as her words shattered his composure piece by piece. "You were supposed to hate me.. Supposed to let your monsters kill me..."

“Yes... I hate that it's you. I fucking loathe that it's you..."

His eyes blazed with something wild, something broken. “The fates didn’t ask when they ripped my soul in half and handed it to Morrwyn. They didn’t ask when they bound me to a nightmare. And they sure as hell didn’t ask when they decided it'd be you.”

He was trembling now, from the furious pull of something ancient, primal, divine. His mouth hovered near hers, his breath ragged. “You want to know why I haven’t finished it? Why I haven’t let you drink?”

He bared his throat, as if daring her. Daring himself.

“Because if you do, there’s no more pretending. No more leash. No more walls between what I am and what you’ll become.” he let out a shuddered before in near-silent surrender.

“You think you’re a monster?” His voice was a graveled whisper. “Then you haven’t seen what I become when I let go.” His hand curled into her hair again, dragging her head back gently this time, just enough to meet her eyes. To see her.

“But fates be fucked,” he breathed, like a curse, like a prayer, “I want to see it. I want to see what you become when you’re mine.” His lips crashed into hers then, savage and starved, like he could devour the prophecy, the bond, her, and maybe, just maybe, devour the part of himself that still longed to fight fate.

Because he was already lost. And ruin had never looked so beautiful.

 

[Sadie]

Sadie let out a quiet, breathless laugh. Something bitter threaded through it as she met Nikolai's gaze. With that, her eyes softened and a vulnerability slipped past the armor she had tried to don.

"I am a monster." She whispered, her voice raw and honest. "It is the only explanation for the things I create. You've seen them. Tell me, what else could summon such nightmares into existence?"

She didn't speak the rest of her thoughts aloud- didn't dare voice the secrets she buried deep since she brought upon the first cursed nightmare into existence: those terrifying creatures had barely touched the surface of her power. The power that sizzled and crawled beneath her skin now. Creatures whose formation had become as effortless as breathing.

She had tried again while she was holed up upstairs the previous day.

What was most terrifying, most exhilarating, was that somewhere inside her, the urge to unleash her chaos fully- to test how far she could go- was becoming impossible to ignore.

But then his mouth crashed into hers, fierce and demanding, and stole every thought, every fear, and left nothing but him for her to enjoy.

---

Omg is that a fade to black wow yes it is

She came back to herself, reality seeping like daylight would through the cracked window in her old home. She blinked slowly and shifted against Nikolai, breaths heavy and her voice steady, but softened by her exhaustion.

"I meant what I said, Nik." She murmured against his chest, "I'm serious. I'm not tying the Crimson Thread. Not yet. Not until I fully understand what I am and what I will become." Slowly, carefully, she sat up and pulled the thick blanket along with her as she slid from the bed. Cool air prickled her skin, raising goosebumps as she gathered the scattered and destroyed remains of her nightdress from his floor.

She turned her head slightly, glancing back at him over her shoulder with quiet command. "Before you go find Eluin," She said, the corner of her mouth quirking into something almost like a smile despite the bile that crept up at the mention of his name, "I think you'll find I have nothing to wear and if you plan to leave me behind, do you expect me to stay cooped up in here with such a lovely city below? Or would you prefer I wander around naked for everyone to admire?"

Her own laughter caught her off guard. Admire was not the word she would have chosen. Stare perhaps. Worry at the bruises, bite marks that were just barely healed, and the pallor her skin had taken with each ravenous draw of her blood by Nikolai.

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai watched her rise from the bed with the heavy, possessive stillness of a predator watching prey slip just out of reach. Only she wasn’t prey. She never had been.

She was the storm after the silence. The fire under his skin. And she was walking away from him wrapped in his godsdamned blanket like she didn’t just burn the world down around them.

His gaze raked over the length of her back, over the curve of her spine and the bruises he’d left with lips and teeth and fingers. His hand flexed against the rumpled sheets like it could still hold the shape of her. It couldn’t. Nothing ever could.

And maybe that was the point. She wasn’t meant to be held. Only unleashed.

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, soft but edged with command as she glanced over her shoulder. That mouth, already swollen from his kisses, curving in a wicked near-smile, and her mention of Eluin had the expected effect.

"Eluin." he muttered. Nikolai’s jaw locked. That name tasted like spoiled wine on his tongue. He sat up slowly, unhurriedly, like a beast deciding whether or not to kill.

“I should’ve torn out his throat the second he spoke your name,” he muttered darkly, voice low and rough from exertion and something far older, far more dangerous.

But then she kept speaking, teasing, and his head lifted as her words cut through him like a brand.

His growl came before the words did, deep and feral, his canines showing as he rose fluidly from the bed, unabashed in his nakedness, in the raw power that simmered just beneath his skin.

He crossed the space between them in two long strides and stopped just short of touching her, though every instinct screamed to pull her close again. His shadows coiled around her, soft and soothing where his voice was a snarl, possessive and sharp enough to bleed.

“No male will ever look upon you naked again, Ilith.” His hand rose, fingers brushing the curve of her jaw, tilting her head just enough to meet his gaze. “If they ever did, they'd lose their eyes. And their tongue for that matter, should they ever dare speak of how fucking perfect you are.”

His thumb slowly traced her lower lip, as though trying to memorise the feel of her. “You're mine, Sadie. Whether we tie the Thread or not, you're already wrapped around every part of me. Every breath. Every thought.”

He leaned in then, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth that was too tender to match the fury in his words, and too fleeting to satisfy either of them. “I’ll show them all what kind of monster protects what’s his.”

He drew back just enough to let her see the raw edge of his hunger again. Not just for her body, but for every part she tried to keep hidden. Her chaos. Her power. Her soul.

He turned, but not before brushing his hand down her side, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. “I’ll find you something to wear. You need to eat.. I'm sure Lorcan has a couple of staff to spare us."

 

[Sadie]

She eyed him as he stalked toward her, all bare skin and bared fangs and a fury so raw it hummed in the air between them. Her words were intentional, chosen to evoke this primal nature. His shadows moved faster than he, reaching her long before his hands did- coiling around her ankles like smoke. They crept up her legs, warm and silky soft, a stark contrast to the possessive hunger in his eyes. They didn't restrain her, not truly, but they did settle over her skin like a reminder of his claim.

Sadie didn't move when he stood before her. She only tilted her head back, the corner of her lips twitching as his growl broke their silence.

No male will ever look upon you naked again, Ilith.

His voice was like a blade, sharp and lethal, and still...she laughed. Quiet, a little hoarse, but genuine. "No male ever has." She said, a faint breath of amusement in her tone as her cheeks stained pink. "Until you." Her eyes dragged up his chest, unashamed. Surely he had known that, right?

She let him touch her, let him tilt her chin further and speak those dark, beautiful threats that were more of a worship to her ears than a warning. She let his thumb drag over her lip like he meant to brand her mouth with the memories of his touch. And she knew he meant every single word. Every thought, every breath, every inch of her now lived under his dominion.

Gods, it should have been terrifying. But it only exhilarated her further.

When he leaned in and pressed the kiss to the corner of her lips, she moved to chase it, to turn her face and meet him with her own, but the shadows tightened around her neck and jaw, not cruelly, but just enough to hold her still.

"I can feed myself you know," She muttered when she was released from his shadowy binding, drawing her hands up to press against the chest that radiated such cold that it felt hot to her now. "I'm not completely useless, regardless of what you have seen of me and a kitchen."

But the smirk faltered when she glanced down at all her bruises- his bruises. His fingerprints on her hips, the faint marks of fangs that had tasted her more than once. She was marked by him, inside and out, and something ached with the knowledge that it wasn't just because the bond had made them do it. It had been a choice. Hers.

"Besides," she added, her voice quieter, a hint of embarrassment even. "I doubt Lorcan's staff are prepared for whatever it is I've done to that kitchen." All he had witnessed were the plates of stolen fruits, meats, and cheeses that she tried to share with him, most of which had ended up smashed on the floor.

She let the blanket fall lower around her pale shoulders as she stepped away from him, trailing her fingers along his torso just because she could. She padded along the stone floor, dark hair wildly falling down her back before she slumped down into the sofa that sat across from the long dead fire.

Just as she had begun to sink into the silence, a strange comfort of the aftermath of their time spent together...

A knock.

Not a polite one.

No, this one was frantic. Loud. Angry.

The door above shook with the force of the pounding, and Sadie's body tensed, blanket clutched tighter around her chest as she met Nikolai's gaze across the space.

Another knock, harder now, like someone didn't just want to be let in. They were coming in whether or not they were invited.

Sadie didn't speak. Didn't move. She only stared into the ash.

SLAM!

The door upstairs was surely broken. She could hear the splintering wood too clearly for it to be salvageable. Stomping could be followed as someone made their way through the home and down the stairs. The door to Nikolai's quarters exploded inward, wood barely clinging to the frame as someone stepped through the wreckage. Her presence frilled the space like a lightning storm- silent at first and then furious.

She didn't bother with pleasantries or explanations, didn't spare Sadie more than a flash of icy blue, glowing eyes as she stormed across the threshold and made her way straight for the male in the room. Long blue hair trailed like a banner behind her. The air cooled with each step closer.

"Nikolai!" She bellowed. A smaller woman trailed behind her but unlike the tall and willowy one crafted of all shades of blue, she was tanned with bright red hair the color of flame. "What the hell have you done?"

 

[Nikolai]

Nikolai’s smile curved slow and crooked, something wicked and unbearably smug flashing in his violet eyes when Sadie whispered her confession. No male ever has. Until you. He stepped closer, not just with his body but with that predatory air he wore like a second skin.

“Oh. I know,” he murmured, head tilting slightly, like he was studying a priceless work of art that belonged to no one but him. “I’m just making sure you know, I’ll be the last.”

There was a flicker then, something raw that passed through his eyes as hers dropped to the marks he’d left behind. Her fingers grazed over his chest and his muscles flinched beneath her touch, not from pain or discomfort, but from the sheer restraint he had to muster to not drag her back into his arms. He followed as she moved, smooth, silent, something softer than usual haunting his gaze as she sank into the chair like the queen she didn’t yet realise she was.

Nikolai knelt before her without hesitation, shadows curling around them both like a cocoon. He didn’t speak. Instead, he shifted the blanket aside just enough to expose one of her legs. His hand cupped her calf with the lightest of pressure, and he bent low, lips brushing gently over the purpling bruise on her thigh. Another kiss followed. And another. His eyes never left her face, and each kiss was an apology unspoken, a confession in its own right.

He wasn’t used to this. To caring. To looking after. But gods, he wanted to. For her. Only her.

And then, they were no longer alone. No longer in peace. His body tensed. A muscle in his jaw jumped as his head tilted, listening. The air shifted instantly, and his shadows, coiled and waiting, rose around her in a silent, writhing halo of smoke and menace. But he didn’t move. Not yet.

Another slam.

Nikolai exhaled through his nose, his fingers trailed once over her shin, grounding himself as much as her before a familiar face burst through the door. The air dropped in temperature. Shadows reared, but his hand raised once, and they stilled mid-lash like waiting wolves.

"Cinna… Cyra…” he drawled, voice smooth as the edge of a blade. “Lovely to see you as always.”

His jaw was tight, but his smile was pure mockery. He rubbed a finger at his ear like her voice had physically wounded him, and, to be fair, it had.

“To what,” he said, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his bare chest with deliberate nonchalance, “do I owe the intrusion? I think a simple knock might've sufficed."

He glanced at the mess of the door, then down at the floor to the shattered wood. “Truly,” he went on, voice like poisoned honey, “if I’d known you were coming to visit, I might’ve dressed.” His mouth curved into a grin, well aware of how his nonchalance might irritate her.