Agnieszka
In a perfect world she would have woken as he dragged her into the black sea. Not from the lust--because is lives like fire beneath her skin as he pulls her beneath the waves--but from the void of memory. In another reality the dark thing would have screamed out of it’s prison with a rage and violence so potent that she could have shaken the monster like loose and flung him back onto the beach for good measure.
But this is not a story where Agniezka wakes, or draws on the well of power that is the vast sea.
Panic comes first. Her lavender eyes are full of the serpentine strike and then her nose and eyes are stinging with cold saltwater. She kicks, twists, pulling against the tension of his teeth planted in her skin but he seals her against him so that she can only kick out toward the emptiness and shudder as muscle, bone and tendon struggles to break her free.
Far below the surface he releases her throat, caresses her. The touch is vile, but her treacherous body would still sway into his if it had the power. Agnieszka throws her head back and he whispers her name into the water, deep and rough, baring flesh to his caress even as she struggles. She knows that if she tried to speak or scream her voice would be a strangled melody without substance but here beneath the waves his baritone is lush and she recognizes that he is a creature aquatic in a way she had not understood before.
She moans and shivers, the meager contents of her lungs escaping slowly from her pink rimmed nostrils. Eszka araches her neck away from him but she is stuck fast, and every moment she recognizes the symptoms of being in his thrall. A sensation of surrender trying to sneak into her limbs. She fights through this, fueled by base memory, dilated eyes training on his reflective predatory ones.
Desire and rage show in her face, fear too.
She is a stupid girl who has tried to fuck danger itself.
The dark thing agrees.
an unequaled gift for disaster
@[Stillwater]