Page 44 of A Taste Of Truth

“Free. Safe,” mutters out of me. I look forward, unable to see anything. It’s just feeling and sensation, all of it screaming a name at me – Malachi. Dark eyes, dark skin, and blood – his blood.

My blood. His life to take, he said.

“Home, Malachi. Safe now.”

What is that? Memories. Thoughts. We were … Together. I hunted him down, saved him.

Drowning.

Save him again.

And again.

And again.

The knife grates in my hand, my own head shaking in confusion.

“You feel so fucking good.” Me? I do. I feel good. I feel …

I laugh lightly and grind down onto him, fingers scraping to bring him closer to me. So hard inside me, like iron. Like a vault around me – or in me. I’m moaning, groaning, begging for more, as this knife stays steady in my hand at his throat.

“More, Malachi. More.” I grunt as I’m pushed harder, forced further into the surface. I’m being smothered and the air’s going somewhere. It’s disappearing. Nothing but white lights and streaks that flash and burn. More. So much more. “More,” murmurs out of me.

More, more, more.

And then lips again. Hard and possessive.

My lips – his. “You killed her for me, didn’t you?” he murmurs.

Blood in my vision. Woman screaming.

Badness.

“Yes. No badness.” Saved him. We’re ours now. We belong. Both of us moving as one.

Fucking as one. “Love Malachi. Keep safe.”

I swallow, searching for air. There isn’t any. No air and no lights. Just a feeling building and building, swirling and churning. So powerful inside me. So consuming. I can’t reach it, though.

I need more.

All the more.

And then it’s there. It explodes inside me, sending me shaking and shuddering around him. I still can’t breathe. No air, but circles now. Circles that that keep swirling inwards, closer and closer. Smaller and smaller. White light again. Like a pin prick in the distance. Pretty. Just like him.

Home is there. Home and safety.

No fear.

No pain.

Malachi.

Wet fingers run over my lips, salt and musk heavy under my nose. I suck at them, savour the intensity of that taste and watch as he comes back into view. My dark eyes. My Malachi who’s become part of me. We were one – are one.

Lost.

Found.