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kyndredravenstories · 2 months ago

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Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 17

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12 / Ch 13 / Ch 14 / Ch 15 / Ch16

In response to the White Wolf's request, a tidal wave of protests washes over the ring. Chaos, shouting, and furious gestures break out among the Chieftains and the entire crowd. The audience leaps to their feet, protesting with a fury I've never seen before. The weight of over one hundred eyes falls upon me, and I stare at the sand in the ring, afraid to look up. I don't need to see them to know what they're thinking.

Did the Kismet have something to do with this? Surely, I am going to protest this development. I have that right, after all. No man can take a bride without her consent. It's my duty to stand up right now; to chastise this Outsider. The Kismet is the symbol of salvation and renewal for these people, and the White Wolf has betrayed their trust by declaring her as his own.

But, my body does not move. Not a muscle.

I focus on the White Wolf instead of the Tribe's venomous glares. This peculiar and foolhardy warrior. Is he not afraid of divine retribution? A curse? The animosity of so many warriors? No matter how strong he is, he cannot overcome all of these people. Yet, judging by the way he stands still as stone, he fears nothing.

Beside me, Sorocan's hand flies to my wrist and tightens on it like the death grip of an adder. Sweat breaks out on the nape of my neck as I watch her eyes catch fire with fury. She looks at me, her upper lip rising up over her front teeth in an expression of disgust.

"Don't you dare move, girl," she hisses. "Look at the ground. He has no right..."

I tune out the rest of what she says, for despite my shock at the sudden turn of events, my eyes can't help but stray back to the man in the center of the ring. All the other faces melt into a kaleidoscope of blurred colors as my vision snaps to the White Wolf's beautiful red eyes. His hawk-like piercing gaze quickens the blood in my veins, and with each pulse of my heart, the mark around my wrist bites deeper into my skin. My hand comes up to clutch at my shirt right over my heart. I dare not hope this is my savior, but if this is my chance, I dare not waste it either. Could this man be an answer to my prayers? Is this the turn of fate that will finally free me from this prison?

No. Impossible. The Chieftains won't permit it.

Sorocan will not.

I dig my nails into the arms of the chair beneath me, hoping this foreign warrior can withstand the numerous obstacles before him. I can't possibly fathom what he wants with a woman he's never met before, but his determination to have his way is written in the proud tilt of his chiseled jaw. My gaze roves over his lean warrior's body. He's strong, and his eyes blaze with a calculating gleam. Surely he knew the opposition he would face in demanding the hand of the Kismet. Surely, he came prepared to fight and take what he sees as rightfully his.

I have no doubt he can take me by force.

The other warriors protest and clamor at his demand, but they do not approach him. Even Tögöldör and Batu seem wary of him, their fists tight at their sides and their shoulders squared as they face him. One leans back on his spear, a predator prepared to strike. The other stands stiff and coiled like a snake, prepared to lash out should the White Wolf take a step in his direction. The Arataan is the size of an onyx mountain bear, and the warriors' demeanor suggests they view him as something equally dangerous.

The Chieftains' faces are pale as they clamor with the crowd. But, they haven't refused the request outright. If they could have, they would have immediately. No questions asked. For the thousandth time, I wonder – just who is this mysterious stranger? Who is he to stir such fear and awe in the strongest of warriors and Chieftains? Who is he to think he can ask for – and take – that which cannot be given? He said I am his. Brazenly so, like a man claiming his life mate. The last thing I want is to be stolen away to be someone's possession, but at this point even that is better than being chained to a rock and sacrificed in the name of something I have no faith in.

My earlier question bounces back like a boomerang. Indeed, it seems this man is my only hope. The mark on his wrist marks him as the one I've been searching for. Gritting my teeth, I yank my wrist out of Sorocan's grasp, ignoring the sting of her nails clawing at me. I rush to stand, and a cold pressure reminds me of the chain strapping my ankle to the chair. Sorocan glares daggers at me, pulling on my arm to get me to sit back down. But, I won't. I refuse. Something stirs deep inside me; bubbling to the surface like boiling water. I hate this woman. What right does she have to enslave me? What right does she have to take my life?

My hands tremble, and something faint as the first snowflakes of winter gathers at my fingertips. A golden glowing light. An ethereal warmth. Power. Magic. I've never been able to feel it before, but now –

Devour...

I gasp at the sudden voice in my ear, so loud it seems to rumble through my very bones.

Devour...

The mark on my wrist aches. At first, I don't understand. Devour what? Or...whom?

This woman before me? Sorocan? What use is she –

Devour him...

Unbidden, my eyes shift back to the ring.

I meet a knowing blood red gaze.

Devour him...he's already yours...

As though he can hear the voice, too, the White Wolf smirks. An expression of arrogance; of confidence. All around him, people continue to yell and shout. Yet, he is unaffected. In this moment, there's no one around us or between us. The mirth at the corner of his lips tugs them into a gentle smile. He raises an arm as though reaching out to me, bending his fingers into his palm. His lips move, and I recognize the command on them. The invitation.

All of the anger and pain I've been bottling up for months hits me all at once. Tears sting my eyes, and my lip trembles. I step forward, but the chain on my foot holds me back. I lift my skirt when I feel something warm and alive snaking around my leg. Hot enough to alarm me, but not hot enough to burn. It's a fine black and red mist. My breath catches as the chain dissolves into thin air.

Snap.

It's more than one kind of freedom.

Not just my body, but my mind as well.

As soon as I'm free, I barrel through the crowd in front of me. I push people out of the way with every ounce of strength I can muster. Some warriors jump in front me to stop me. My body moves on instinct. I dip and dodge. Sorocan is shouting for them to bring me back immediately. But, all I can see is the White Wolf and his outstretched hand. I run to him, the wind biting at the places where tears stream down my face.

As I step closer and closer to him, his image blurs and shifts. For a split second, I see shining onyx horns adorning the top of his head. Black scales and armor wrap around his skin. A large reptilian tail sways behind him. As soon as the image comes together, it vanishes. As I jump over the barrier to the ring and sprint through the sand of the arena, it's just him standing there...

Just him.

Elation swells through me until my heart nearly bursts.

A gasp of relief and I'm flying into his arms.

Another breath and his powerful arms lift me into the air. He spins me around, and his scent wraps around me. Warmth. Safety. As it melds with my senses, I look up at him. He holds me up as though I weigh nothing. My lips part to call his name.

And I stop.

Nothing comes from memory.

He senses it immediately. Catches my hesitation. The crimson in his eyes darkens like a churning storm. He looks at me with expectation.

"I'm sorry...I..."

He realizes, then, that I don't remember who he is, and the result of that knowledge transforms his features. His eyes grow wide then narrow again, arching brows furrowing his beautiful face into a look of raw, unchecked hurt. His pain rips into me like the claws of a beast; it's like I've been thrown into a frozen pond.

He lowers me to the ground, sliding his hand up my forearm. Our fingers twine together like saplings seeking warmth in winter. He stares at our palms as though expecting something. His hand is huge over mine. Instantly, I know that I've held this hand before. Many times. Again following my instinct, I cover his calloused knuckles with my fingers. I've missed this hand, this strength, these impossibly warm arms. Pulling him towards me, I close my eyes and press my cheek against his chest.

People are still staring at us. Angry faces. Bewildered. Outraged.

But, I'm the one unaffected now.

The White Wolf's heartbeat murmurs against my ear. I close my eyes.

One beat.

Then two.

And then it all makes sense.

When I look at the White Wolf again, he is no longer nameless.

"Sylus," I smile. "Sylus, you found me."

I can't describe the expression on his face now. It's too profound for words. Relief is too weak a term. Happiness is too vague an emotion. He leans forward, nearly staggering, as though a terrible weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Only I can hear his shaky breath as he reaches out and ruffles my hair. Schooling his face back into a merciless mask, he looks back towards the crowd. I press close to him, squeezing his hand in mine.

"Can we go home?" I ask, my voice hoarse. "This isn't quite what I had in mind when you described a getaway. Next time, maybe run it by me first."

"Where's the fun in that, kitten?" he asks, his face stone cold yet his words soft and tender.

Our Chieftain's voice bellows out across the ring. "Silence!"

After a moment, the crowd quiets. I squeeze Sylus's hand tighter.

"Arataan," our Chieftain's deep voice booms out. "This is one wish we cannot grant you."

Sylus smiles, but the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes. His fiery red orbs remain cold and aloof as he speaks in turn, "This is not a negotiation. Either you release her, or I will take her."

He shifts his weight between his feet, and the warriors around us start. Some even take a step back. Tögöldör stabs his spear forward defensively while Batu's eyes narrow. The Chieftain signals for them to stand down.

"You have won a place among our people with your strength and might. You have saved one of our sister Tribes from destruction. Have you done all of this planning to doom us all to death and ruin?"

Sylus raises an elegant brow, unamused at the accusation. "Interesting that you mention ruin when it is your Speaker playing games."

"Hold your tongue, you insolent whelp," Sorocan hisses, completely out of character.

Sylus blinks back at her, unimpressed. "Find another Kismet. You still have time before the ritual. Isn't that so?"

The Chieftains look crestfallen, and I've never seen Sorocan so pale. Her blue eyes sear into me from across the arena, her knuckles white as she clutches her staff.

"Fight, then," our Chieftain rasps. Then again, louder - "Fight, then! If you are declared Champion, we will speak again. Until then, you are to keep your distance from the Kismet. She belongs to our deity. No mortal man may covet her."

A chuckle rumbles in Sylus's chest. His thumb traces the back of my hand. "I do not need to covet what is already mine," he smirks.

More clamoring from the warriors and the audience. I suppose I can understand their apprehension. Losing me as a sacrifice means inciting the anger of their God. Sorocan's eyes have me immobilized. For months, she's been the warden on the other side of my chains. But, I've always been able to empathize with her at least somewhat. After all, she was only trying to protect her people. Now, though, I don't know how to feel when I witness the desperation in her gaze. Is she even real? Where has the gem taken us? What is this world? Is all of this a dream? A hallucination? If so, then why can't we just sweep through here and get out?

If that was an option, something tells me Sylus would have already done it.

"Speaker, what say you?" The Chieftain lays a hand on Sorocan's shoulder. She finally breaks eye contact with me and bites her lip. She steps up to stand closer to the Chieftain, raising her staff in the air as she addresses the crowd.

"The rules of the Conclave are absolute and binding. Should this White Wolf claim the title of Champion, his wish will be granted."

Deathly silence follows this proclamation. I can't believe she's agreed to it.

"However," she pauses, as though for dramatic effect. "Young warrior, what you have asked for is not for this Speaker to give. The Champion is one chosen by the Gods, blessed with their strength to aid the Tribes. The price of the wish you ask for is steep. You will fight with a handicap, and if you persevere, you may take the gem and the Kismet as your own. Are you in agreement?"

Sylus rubs his long graceful fingers across his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I'll agree to these terms," he says. "So long as you agree to mine. The Kismet is not to be harmed or removed from this village for the duration of the Conclave. She is to remain here. Lastly, the only Kismet I will accept is the woman I hold now. Should these terms be violated," his voice drops to an icy baritone. "You will not be fond of the consequences."

From there, everything is a blur. Sylus stays by my side as the Chieftains and the Speaker say prayers for the coming year ahead. Flowers are scattered throughout the ring to give blessings to the Champion candidates. At last, the horn blows one last time to signal the end of the first day. The opening ceremony of the Conclave is concluded, but the celebrations are half hearted. Sorocan comes to take me away with a group of warriors after the processions are complete. As I turn to follow her back to my tents, Sylus tugs me against him one last time. I thrill as his hand strokes my cheek.

"Wait for me," he says softly then pushes me gently back to my jailer.

I stumble towards her, my knees weak and my heart racing. As I follow her to my quarters, I wrap my arms around myself. My mind reels, thoughts muddled and hazy as I struggle to process the memories of my actual life with everything I've experienced in the last several months here. Now that I remember the truth, I'm more helpless than ever before. I don't have my weapons, my Hunter watch, or any of the gadgets I've grown used to. I can't call for backup, and I have no idea where I am. Did the gem transport us into a Protofield? I've never seen one so extensive, especially not one with other people in it. Were they real? Was it possible to be trapped in a Protofield for this long and survive? And, if this was a Protofield, where was the Wanderer responsible for generating it?

Too many unanswered questions. I wish Tara was here, and remembering her only sharpens my longing for home. I dig my fingers into my arms, pressing my lips together. Whatever the situation may be, moping isn't going to help anything. Besides, I trust Sylus. He'd brought us here for a reason. He told me to wait for him. Sure, but that didn't mean I was going to twiddle my thumbs while I waited at the top of the tower like a princess in a storybook.

If we could simply walk out of this delusion, Sylus wouldn't have agreed to Sorocan's deal. Now that I've seen a part of her true self, I can only imagine what sort of cruel handicap she'll set to ensure Sylus doesn't claim the title of Champion. I can't let my impulses drive any of my decisions. I have to act carefully, no matter how much I want to punch the old woman in front of me well into next week. I grit my teeth when she chains my leg to the post in my yurt and leaves without a word.

Determination realigned, I stand up and start exploring the room. I've made so many rounds in this yurt over the last few months, pacing in circles like a caged tiger. But, I'm different now. I'm no longer a wandering outsider with no memories, but a fully trained Deepspace Hunter. My eyes see more than most, and my mind responds to situations with a strategic outlook.

The chain on my leg is a lost cause. Sylus managed to break it in the arena only thanks to his Evol. I don't have the kind of the strength that requires, nor does my exploration of the yurt leave me with any tools that would be up to the task. I examine the mark on my wrist. If I had to guess, I'd say it reminds me of the Linkage that's trapped Sylus and I together in the past. More than ever, it resembles a coiling serpent.

That thought triggers something, a memory of Sylus standing in the ring.

For a moment, I could have sworn he looked...strange. The image is fuzzy no matter how hard I try to remember it, but I can't forget the horns and tail I saw.

My heart squeezes tightly in my chest. The mark on my wrist throbs. Something catches my attention in the corner of my vision, and I turn my head to see one of the many lavish decorations placed in my quarters as "tribute" to my status. It's a large round and flat piece of reflective metal that's about as tall as I am. I approach and kneel before it, my hands trembling as they reach up to touch my hair.

My long onyx hair that is turning starlight white right before my very eyes.

Eyes that should be green.

I blink, and when I open them again they are crimson red just like Sylus's.

Deeply disturbed, I gasp and back away from the mirror-like object. I bring my hair in front of my face, confirming the change in hue.

What's going on here? How is this possible? I've never experienced effects like this in a Protofield. I squash down a wave of panic, especially when an even bigger fear manifests.

Sylus – the one I held today and the one that asked me to wait for him. Is he a part of this illusion? Is he even real? Am I still lost in this world all alone? Or has he really come to help me escape it?

We will find the truth together – his voice lilts across my memories. It was the last thing he said to me before we were brought to this place.

The truth? What truth?

I take a deep breath and steady myself, but balance remains out of my reach. Minutes drag on like hours, and with each moment's passing I struggle to keep my composure.

That's how Sylus finds me that night.

Unsteady. Uncertain. Full to the brim with trepidation and doubt.

His Evol mist materializes from thin air, first appearing as a ghostly cloud of falling black feathers then swelling into a spinning portal. He steps out of it with his hands in his pockets, the sight so familiar that I can't help but let out a shaky breath of relief. His massive height dwarfs the yurt around me. If possible, he looks even bigger than I recall. The fighter's gear isn't helping. It accents his muscular shoulders, lean powerful waist, and long legs.

Goosebumps break out all across my arms. A pleasant weakness wraps around my knees. I stand up to greet him, and in the span of another breath, he's enveloped me in his reassuring heat and scent. We stay like this for an unknown span of time. I'm not ready to let go yet. I hope he isn't planning on leaving anytime soon because I don't want to be separated from him again. I take another deep breath. Then another. Finally, I pull back to look at his face. His sharp eyes roam over my features. Subconsciously, I flick my hair away from my shoulders. His fingers reach up and tease a white lock between them. For a moment, he looks to be deep in thought.

"Interesting," his eyes snap back up to me, and there's a playful glint in them again.

"It just...happened...I looked in the mirror and suddenly," I wave my hands in a vague gesture of frustration, struggling for the right words as his thumb softly brushes over my cheekbone. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised anymore. Nothing that's happened here is normal." I stop rambling and worry my bottom lip, acutely aware of his unblinking gaze. "Does it...look weird?"

I peek up at him through my lashes. He looks quite amused, the fiend.

"Didn't I tell you before?" he asks. "No matter what you look like or what title you hold, no matter if you're a Hunter or a Sorceress," the pad of his finger slides down my cheek to tuck some hair behind my ear, "you are Ellara."

"A sorceress," I frown, trying to mask my embarrassment. "Where did that come from?"

The pain from the moment of our reunion slips across his face as quickly as a glare of light across a pool of water. It's a split second. So fast that I doubt my own vision. It's dark in here, after all. Maybe I imagined it. I've seen this man get shot, get sliced with a knife, and suffer other wounds. Yet, I've never seen him really express pain unless it was to tease me and my anxiety.

"You like to read those kinds of novels, don't you? Fantasy stories," he jokes, but the humor is hollow behind his words. "Luke brought one home the other day."

So that's where my favorite book had disappeared to. I pout at Sylus, always amazed at how readily he accepts whatever comes his way. "So, are you going to tell me where we are?"

The tension relaxes from the line of his mouth. His eyes soften from ruby stone into mellow aged wine. He thumbs my earlobe between his fingers. Gently. Teasingly. I squirm back, heat flushing my cheeks.

"If I do, it will ruin the point of the exercise," he smirks.

Folding my arms across my chest, I vent a hot breath of frustration and disbelief. Honestly, this man is quite insufferable when he wants to be. "This isn't funny, Sylus. Do you have any idea what I've been through the last few months in this hell?"

His expression grows somber, though his hand continues to stroke my hair. "I do." His words are full of sincerity, and I wait for him to elaborate.

And wait.

My patience snaps, but somehow I can't be angry with him. Not when I've missed him so much. I reach out and place my hand on the center of his chest. Immediately, he covers it with his own.

"Didn't you tell me we would find the truth together? How does keeping secrets help anything?"

Sylus says nothing, just pulls me against him again. I hate it when he leaves me out of things; when he tries to keep me at a distance to "protect me". I want to prove that I'm strong enough to walk in his world right beside him, not behind him. But, right now, this embrace feels too good; he feels too good. I abandon my questioning for now. The tension that's been building inside me for months has snapped like a rubber band. I can't help feeling that everything will be alright now that he's here.

He lifts me into his arms, glaring down at the chain on my foot. Black and red mist gathers around us, making his silver hair sway with the breeze. With a snap of his fingers, the chain around me evaporates into black ash. My heartbeat quickens. I have to admit I find that threatening irked expression of his insanely hot. And his power, too. It should scare me, but instead it just...

I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat.

"Sylus..."

"Shush, kitten," he rumbles down at me. "Let me hold you. These months haven't been a walk in the park for me, either."

Oblivious to the direction of my fanciful thoughts, he walks to an arrangement of luxurious furs, handwoven red and gold blankets, and plume-stuffed cotton pillows decorating a wide sofa. It's an area that acts like a lounge for eating and receiving company. Of course, my company has been nonexistent these months. It's all for show, just like my fancy jewelry and clothes. I've grown to hate this spot, sitting on my own, curled in a ball, only able to see sunlight through a slit in the tent.

I want to protest his choice of destination and wrap my arms tighter around him. But, I don't get a chance. In moments, Sylus settles us comfortably among the silks, wool, and fur. He positions me in his lap and wraps me in a white fox-fur blanket while he leans against the wooden spine of the seat. The four-seater looks like it will barely fit one more now that he's sprawled in it.

He reaches down and slips off my shoes one by one, tossing them carelessly in some random direction. My toes curl. Despite the blanket, I shiver in the chill of the coming night. The maids haven't come to do their evening rounds yet. Usually they would have come by now to stoke the fire and set up a hot bath.

The thought startles me.

"Sylus, if someone sees you here–"

"They won't," he says, matter of fact. I frown at his fighter's gear.

"Aren't you cold wearing this?"

Not that I mind the view.

Not in the least.

The expanse of his abdomen has me mesmerized for a moment before I force myself to look away. I don't dare look at him; he always seems to know when I ogle his body and can be quite smug about it. Hopefully he missed it just this one time in the darkness. Despite my criticism, I'm already reaching up to toy with a few of the multi-colored braids tethered to his chest piece. They're softer than they look. Each one is an enemy defeated. Each one is its own challenge overcome.

"Worried about me?" Sylus huffs. As if he doesn't know that I really do worry. Too much.

Ignoring him, I snag another nearby blanket with my toes and awkwardly pull it up. It takes some shuffling – Sylus looking far too amused all the while – but I manage to wrap it around his shoulders.

"You're fighting tomorrow," I fuss at him. "What's going to happen if you get sick?"

"It's not that cold," he chuckles.

It is though; it's just that he radiates more heat than any normal human being.

"Honestly speaking," his eyes captivate me as his voice drops to a low drawl, "I prefer your warmth to this covering."

"Well, I'm too small to cover all of you, so..."

I work hard to keep my thoughts in line as I wrap the fur around him. As I do, I notice something off about the leather of his gear. It's quite worn in some spots, and there's stains. Dark ones. I rub at them with my finger until I have no doubt as to their origin. Old blood. I've seen it often enough to know.

Uncomfortable, I bite the inside of my lip, thinking back to what he said about the hardships he's had to face here. What did he have to overcome to find me? What deals did he have to make?

He urges me to look at him. "It's not my blood," he says as though reading my mind.

"You always tell me that lie," I frown and wrap my arms around him. "When are you going to realize that it does the opposite of what you intend?"

His sensual mouth curves into a bitter smile. We lapse into silence for a while. One of his hands strokes my hair, and I let myself relax into him, giving in to the waves of pleasure. Who knows how long we have left to be together tonight? Who knows when I'll be able to see him again? Here we are, worlds away from Linkon and N-109, and nothing has really changed except the color of my eyes and hair.

Is there a reality where we don't have to part at the end of every meeting? Is there a place where we could be...more?

Maybe it's not a place. Maybe it's a choice. But, it's not one I can easily make. At least, not without giving up other things I love.

"Mmm...It's warmer now," Sylus breathes, resting his chin on top of my head. He shifts, and I instinctively tighten my grip on him.

"Don't go," I whisper.

"I'm just moving you to the bed. You should rest."

"Don't want to..."

A sound of amusement tickles the ear that's not pressed against his chest. "If you don't want to lie down, I can hold you until I leave."

"What if I don't want you to leave?" I throw out the challenge but chicken out of making eye contact.

"Then, I suppose..." he caresses a confident trail up my spine, "we'd better make the most of our time before dawn." I nearly give a very unladylike moan when his hand settles on the nape of my neck and starts to massage my tense muscles.

"Sounds...promising..."

"Are you sure?" he murmurs, a thrilling teasing edge to his tone. "Weren't you worried about me being seen?"

"Maybe Sorocan's way of getting back at me is...ugh...denying me dinner and a bath..."

"Hmm...seems rather petty of her."

"Stars, that feels amazing..."

"She's always been a small-minded one."

I can't muster up two fractals to give about Sorocan and her retribution right now. As Sylus's hand travels down from my neck to my shoulders, I go limp as a ragdoll in his arms. Closing my eyes, I float in the darkness and nuzzle into his neck. His lips press against my forehead and linger before pulling away. After a few minutes, he does it again. My temple this time.

Gentle, doting, and sensual kisses.

It's relaxing...until it's not.

Suddenly I'm aware of how soft those lips feel; hot, pliant, and just moist enough to leave a cool sensation in their wake. Their slight drag against my skin makes me shiver in anticipation. Meanwhile, his other hand starts moving, too, stroking ever so softly over the ridges of my thigh. I love how his huge palm dwarfs me; love the feeling of him completely and utterly trapping me against him. I'm reminded of that steamy night in my tiny shower cabinet; of his sinful mouth and tongue between my legs.

I shift around restlessly. The next time he leans in, I open my eyes and tilt my face up. Without pausing, I slide my hand along his cheek and twine my fingers into his silky hair. Pulling gently, I coax him into a kiss. Once. Twice. Our lips mold together gently at first, our eyes open and devouring each other. Both of us a little hesitant as though each one of us is afraid the other will vanish at any moment. I grow bolder with each touch, however, and soon I'm shifting my position to straddle him on the seat.

With our fronts pressed against each other and my legs on either side of him, I can no longer deny my need. Maybe I should feel bad about that. After all, we're trapped in some kind of mutant Protofield and we have no idea what it's going to throw at us next. But, maybe that's even more reason to act on feelings like this now. As a Hunter and as the leader of Onychinus, we are both all too aware of how short life can be.

As we drown in each other's red eyes, his right one begins to glow.

Devour him...comes the voice again.

He's yours...always been yours to claim...

I reach up and brush the pads of my fingers along his cheekbone right under his glowing eye. His sharp gaze traces my movement, and he shifts back just enough for me to notice. But, he doesn't stop me. His brows are relaxed, his pupils dilated. Even in the darkness, I can see a faint tinge of pink flushing his cheeks.

"Are you looking into my heart?" I ask him, feathering across his cheek to his ear.

"You wear it on your sleeve, kitten," he tilts his head and nuzzles into my touch. "I don't need to use this eye to know what you desire."

"Then...am I being too greedy...if I ask you to keep these eyes only on me?"

He catches my hand with his and joins them in a way I've grown to long for. A faint light pulses between our palms as my Evol yearns to Resonate with his. To join with him. Be one. Our bodies, too. And our hearts.

"You've always had that right," he answers huskily, kissing each of my knuckles in turn. "Perhaps it's been said before," he kisses down to my wrist, "somewhere in another time and place, but..." I gasp when he bites me gently right in the crease of my palm. "Only you can touch me like this. There is no other." My face flushes, my belly tensing and aching as his tongue wraps around one of my fingers and draws it into his mouth. I pull back, frightened of how good it feels.

"Don't run from me," he whispers, and I balk at a new expression I've never seen him show me before. Need. Raw need. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes consuming me, undressing me. Beneath my other hand, his heart is pounding just as fast as mine.

Devour him...

"Sylus, I'm hearing something...a voice. It's telling me to...devour you."

"Then why don't you?" he asks, unafraid. "I'm more than happy to be your prey." His long-fingered hands and broad palms whisper down my sides, encircling my waist, lifting me up. "And...to experience everything you have to offer in return."

He leans forward, locking our lips together again. My eyes drift closed, body thrumming with a growing primal hunger. As his wicked tongue enters my mouth, those same hands grasp my hips and grind me down against his hardening length. The thick cotton trews leave nothing to the imagination. Just anticipating him entering me - stretching me, filling me until I can't think or move or –

"Tell me again, sweetie, do you want it?"

"Yes," I manage to gasp out before I'm entirely submerged the flames of his desire. His kisses are more fiery than usual. We come together then break apart in short bursts of passion. Soon, every breath he takes steals mine away. I float in dizziness and euphoria until I push against him to come up for air.

"Sylus...I can't breathe..." White strands of my hair fall across my face, and he gently brushes them aside. It's so dark now that I can hardly make out his features. I gasp as his lips slide down to my breasts. He yanks the ties out of my blouse in a single motion, peeling away the fabric. Our hands join again – as if he can't stand for them to be apart – and he gently guides them behind my back to support me, allowing me to relax. I cry out as his scorching kisses counter winter's chill against my skin, sighing as he suckles first one nipple then the other.

I'm squirming now, frustrated at being able to feel him at my core yet missing the pressure that will drive me higher.

"We should...hnn...light the fire...hey, no biting there," I mumble incoherently, complaining yet not truly displeased. Sylus ghosts his lips over the bite on the swell of my breast, easing the ache. He releases my hand so he can grind my hips harder against him, and I arch back, needing more and more. My fingers tangle further in his hair.

"It's OK. I don't need to see," he sighs against my skin. "I can feel every inch of you, and darkness..." his hands slip beneath my skirts, running fiery trails up my legs to my hips, "... makes a person more sensitive."

The initial contact of his talented fingers with my dripping folds is so intense it has me clawing at him. Pleasure knifes through me as he slides those same fingers against my core, touching my clit just enough to make my whole body shudder. My thoughts melt away, leaving nothing but sensation. I can't help the greedy whine that leaves my mouth as he worships my breasts with his mouth and makes teasing passes against my entrance down below.

"Your body is hotter than your lips," he declares between long sweet kisses. "I missed this taste." He nuzzles his chin against my chest. "Missed your scent." In response to the excitement in his voice, more wetness rushes down my thighs. "So wet and soft," he groans, "mmm...kitten..."

I'm so hungry for him now I can hardly think straight. My hands trace the delicious expanse of his smooth chest, running down the valley of his abs down to the hem of his pants. I fumble, clumsy and shaky as I seek to undo unfamiliar ties and drawstrings. He seems to shift away, and I make some kind of noise in protest.

"Now, now...focus, sweetie," he growls into my ear.

"T-Trying...you keep moving..." I mumble.

"No, not on that." He presses his thumb against my clit, forcing me to stop my assault on his pants and to dig my nails into his arm. "Focus here."

I can't stop moaning and whimpering as he inserts first one finger then another inside me, pumping them both in a torturous steady rhythm. Slow enough to make me see stars; slow enough to make me bite into his skin. His hands don't stop for a moment, giving me no quarter, the pace never changing even as I start to buck and moan against him. My orgasm is just out of reach. I recognize this brand of play, but this time it feels like I might cry if he drags this out anymore than he already is.

"No more," I beg him. "I want to...want to..."

Still maintaining the same pace inside me, he gives me a wicked smile. "Just a little more, sweetie. A little higher. You can endure it, can't you?"

His tone is mischievous and sly. Even in this state, I can't resist his challenge. Biting my lip, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to ride out the euphoria of his teasing. Time loses meaning. Again, I come close to the peak; again, he navigates me back down and away from it. Another few seconds, and I'm begging again.

"Sy...lus...please...let me...let me..."

"I think you can go higher," he drawls. "If you can hold on a little longer, I'll do as you like." His words drip honeyed promises. "I'll flip you over right under me and let you take as much of me as you can handle." I stop breathing momentarily as his fingers move in time with each of his words. "Just...like...this..."

The sounds of him moving inside my gushing center is lewd and mortifying. I try to shy away from it, but Sylus isn't having any of that.

"A little more," he croons, his own voice breathy and husky with yearning. "I want you to show me how much you missed me these long months apart."

Tears sting at my eyes and stream down my face. My whole body is shaking and trembling. Nothing makes sense anymore. I'm talking, but nothing that I'm saying is registering. The pad of his thumb brushes against my cheeks.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his fingers slowing even more. I might scream. Genuinely.

I shake my head, insistent. "No, Sylus. Just take me. Please."

His smooth chuckle makes my walls clench tight around him. He kisses up along my neck, nibbling on my ear. "Alright, since you asked me so nicely."

Whatever he does next with his fingers nearly renders me unconscious. My climax slams into me so hard that my soul leaves my body. I float in and out of awareness until a pair of hands lifts me up again and spreads me open in the most intimate of ways. I hold my breath.

"You did so well for me, kitten. Let me reward you." Even as his sultry voice echoes in my ears, I see stars again as he slides into me. Slowly, carefully, gently. When he's all the way inside, he churns his hips and settles in. Just a little too big; a little too much. Sylus curses now against my jaw; his big body is shaking, too. He's losing his composure swiftly. If he doesn't move now, I'm going to lose my mind.

"Take me, Sylus...I can't wait anymore..."

With a sexy groan, he pulls partially out of me then thrusts back in. He's still moving slowly, as though he's afraid of breaking me. It's not an unreasonable concern. Our bodies are so different, one might think they'd never be compatible. But, just a few thrusts in, discomfort melts into sweet ambrosia. My whimpers turn into moans and cries and more nonsensical begging until slow sweet love-making transforms into a desperate animalistic rut. He rolls me onto the furs on the floor and looms over me as he thrusts his cock as deep as it will go. The yurt is filled with the sounds of slapping flesh and throaty moans, neither one of us concerned about someone overhearing our exertions now. We're too lost in each other, too deeply joined and blissful to care about such things.

Pressure builds and builds in my belly until I really do explode. When I nearly fall over, Sylus holds me up. As I struggle to get my bearings, he keeps pounding into me, leaning over to whisper darker things into my ear.

"Look at you taking me to the hilt...you are a greedy one..."

I mumble something in response, but I'm too delirious to comprehend it. The second time I climax, it happens in sync with his own orgasm. Sylus moans in pleasure, and as I bask in the incredible sound of his voice lilting like that, he fills me with his hot cum. It leaks out of me and drips down my thighs as my legs and arms shake and tremble.

"Looks like we can't use this blanket anymore," he teases, breathing hard. "Should I get a new one?"

I shake my head and lose all strength in my limbs. Sylus catches me against him and stands, walking us to the bed. Everything is spinning, and I can't reconcile the way I feel like I'm about to pass out. Sylus whispers my name, but even when I open my eyes I can't see anything in the darkness.

"I'm sorry, Sylus...so tired..."

"There's a hot bath set up in the White Wolf's tent," he says. "Can I take you there to get cleaned up?"

I nod weakly.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," he kisses my forehead, though his voice is entirely unrepentant. "Perhaps I was too mean tonight."

"Next time," I promise. "I'll make sure to return the favor."

Next time, I'll make him beg.

His chest rumbles with a laugh. "Do you have to be competitive right now?" When I don't immediately answer him, he sets me on the bed and readjusts his clothes.

I prop myself up on my elbow. "It's late, maybe you should–"

He stops me with a finger to my lips. "Let me take care of you."

"But, the fight tomorrow..."

"A guaranteed victory." Wrapping another large blanket around me, he takes me into his arms in preparation for a Jump.

"You can't be arrogant about it. You don't even know your handicap."

"You're overthinking it. We need to win in order to get out of here, right? So, that's what I'll do. There's no more to it than that."

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylusposting #sylus/mc #sylus #eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace fanfic #lnds #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 2 months ago

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Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 16

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12 / Ch 13 / Ch 14 / Ch 15

They call me Kismet - the Destined One.

They say I am a Priestess to Araldir, the God of Souls.

I came into this world with magic running through my veins. It is a power than can grant a font of strength and vigor to anyone I touch. It is incredibly rare, only seen a handful of times in the Tribe's history. Thus, I was chosen at birth to be raised and trained in preparation to become Araldir's bride. My power is a sign that he has marked me as his own. A divine gift, they call it. A blessing.

This year, at the Winter Solstice, our Tribe's Speaker will take me to the Spine on the border of our lands, will lay me down upon the cold stone altar, and will carve out my heart in sacrifice to our deity. I've trained my whole life for this and have had years to prepare myself both in body and mind.

They say it is the greatest honor I could ever hope for.

They say I should be proud.

But, I am far from such. In fact, I have no memory of anything the Tribe has told me about my life. Sorocan, to be specific. A short stout woman with greying hair and sky blue eyes. She's the one who found me after my failed escape attempt, treated my wounds, and nursed me back to health. She's our Tribe's shaman and our Speaker, a woman who leads and dictates all spiritual rules and traditions. She saved my life, and I should trust her. What she tells me about me sounds false, but who am I to doubt the words of someone that communes with the Gods themselves?

I don't have any proof that I am not who these people say I am, after all.

Exactly one month ago today, I awakened in the steppe alone. Wounded. Lost. Confused. Entirely devoid of any recollection of who I am or how I got here. My only clue is a vivid black tattoo seared into my wrist, a dark carving that resembles a link of some kind. It snakes up my forearm to my elbow. I've been told to hide it, and ever since my homecoming I've worn only long sleeved dresses despite the brutal heat of summer to ensure than no one in the Tribe sees my new mark.

Perhaps the torture serves me right. Sorocan says I ran away from home, that I'm reckless and defiant, perhaps nervous before my ceremony to join Araldir coming up in just a few months. She says I must have fallen and hit my head, lost my memories due to my injuries. But, the Tribe's explanation of my identity doesn't make any sense. Their words don't resonate with me. When they found me and saved me from my aimless wandering, I accepted their aide too readily.

Now, I regret it.

Over the course of the weeks following my fated reunion with Sorocan, preparations for my ceremony begin. I am to join Araldir in the heavens soon, and that means my heart must be full of only joy. I am given my own quarters and an entire array of ladies to wait on me hand and foot. I'm fed the best food the Tribe has to offer, bathed in fragrances, and massaged with oils. I'm adorned in the finest silk, wool, and cotton dresses, my neck surrounded with strings of silver and my hair glimmering with ropes of precious stones and gold.

Yet, there is no joy in any of it. As I am pampered and fawned over in my own luxurious yurt, I start to feel like I'm missing something profound. Not just my memories, but a piece of my very heart. The mystery of the tattoo on my arm gives me no peace of mind. It resembles a chain, and I wonder where the other side leads. Or, to whom. Though I still can't remember my true origins, I know that I don't belong in this place and that there is someone I must find, someone that searches for me now just as I search for them.

Once more, I try to escape. Taking advantage of a dark and windy night, I try to sneak away from the village. But, I don't make it far. Without any memories, I don't know the lay of the land. I wander in circles and nearly fall victim to a pack of hungry monsters wandering the grassland. Sorocan catches me just on the border of the Tribe's lands and commands her warriors to bring me home. I fight and I claw at them. When I cannot break free, I beg her to please let me go. There is sadness in her eyes when she refuses me, and it helps me understand that there is more to her actions than readily meets the eye.

Back in my quarters, I am chastised and lectured. The potential consequences of my escape are brought home without mercy. If this sacrifice isn't performed, the Tribe will starve. Araldir will unleash his fury upon us. In fact, our lands are already suffering, and it is only my sacrifice that can bring life back to them again. Most of the crops we plant rot in the soil. More and more of the herds we hunt fall ill to an unknown sickness. Our women struggle with fertility. Slowly, inevitably, our Tribe is wasting away.

Sorocan's eyes are accusing. Hard. Furious. She doesn't understand what's come over me. I've always been obedient. I've known all my life this day would come. What has changed? What is driving my rebellion?

"Why did you try to leave us again?" she demands from me. "Have we not given you the best we have? Have we not taken care of you all your life?"

I sit on my bed, my wrists tied together. A prisoner. I raise my chin, pulling and yanking on my bonds. Sweat beads on my forehead as I struggle. But, I can't give up. I won't.

"I'm not going to accept being a pig fattened up for slaughter. I don't want to be your sacrifice. I find no pride or joy in having my heart cut out and placed on an altar for someone else's benefit."

We sit in awkward silence for some time before I speak again. "I don't belong here, Sorocan. The story you've told me is a lie. Everyone here has been lying to me from the first moment I got here. I'm not the Kismet. I have another name. Another life. I don't even speak like you do." I clench my hands into fists. "You're ready to murder a random innocent person just to make yourself look good?"

Sorocan's eyes widen. It's proof enough that my words have hit home. Yet, she does not remove her mask. She continues with the charade.

"None of this is about anything personal," Sorocan argues, her piercing blue eyes unwavering. "The Tribes are at each others throats. They need something to unify them in this time of crisis. You are that something. Do not despair, child. Your sacrifice will save the land. Heal it."

I glare at her. "The minute you look away, I'm gone. I'll fight you to the last second."

I stay true to my word. Over and over again, I try to run away until I'm kept under constant guard. A post is buried deep into the earth, and a yurt is built around it. Sorocan chains my ankle to this structure. I'm able to walk around my quarters, but I cannot go outside. The guards bring me food and sustenance, but none except our Speaker and a few of her hand chosen women are allowed inside. I'm watched as I bathe, eat, and sleep.

And so, more weeks go by.

As time stretches on in this endless procession of monotony, my cage begins to addle my mind. I grow listless. My appetite dwindles to nothing. Most days, I sit on my bedroll and stare at the tiny slit in the wall of my dwelling with my legs pressed up against my chest. There is no joy in my heart, and there won't ever be. Araldir will claim a desiccated shell, and it serves him right for ruining my life. It's a silent rebellion. Worthless, perhaps, but it's something.

More time passes. I only realize that the seasons begin to change because Sorocan and her women bring me warmer blankets, furs, and clothes. I let them feed me, dress me, and bathe me like a soulless doll. I feel empty, but my mind refuses to give up. My heart insists that I am not alone in this cruel reality. That someone is out there, searching for me. Someone at the end of the chain tattooed on my arm.

Sorocan isn't blind. She sees that I'm wasting away. She tries to lecture me again and again to convince me of my duty and my destiny, but I tune out her voice like I would a buzzing fly. Then, one day, her words pierce through the haze.

"If you do not rebel, I will agree to let you go out and see the festival."

I have no idea what she's talking about and blink at her wordlessly. Her face comes into focus, the first thing that does in quite some time.

"...go out?" I croak in a voice that hasn't been used in too long.

"Yes, child," Sorocan says. "You've grown too thin. Your complexion is unhealthy."

I make a bitter sound. "That's what happens when you chain someone up against their will."

She frowns. "It is for your safety and for the good of the Tribe."

My hands clench into fists. Is this another chance for escape? Should I play along and act like I've learned the error of my ways? Maybe this is my last chance to try to get away.

"What festival?" I ask.

Sorocan stands up and crosses her arms over her chest. She explains that a most exciting time approaches. The Tribal leaders of the steppe have called everyone together for a Conclave which will last almost a full month. In preparation of the Kismet's offering to the Araldir in Winter, all Tribes have gathered from all around to mingle and trade. Normally, these clans are enemies. Yet, for a short time, they agree to lay down arms. The planned festivities are thrilling. Warriors fight each other in brutal combat for the right to the title of Champion. Men and women freely seek a life partner, no matter their origin or affiliation. Artisans and craftsmen come together to share knowledge and skill. Music plays. Dancing, spirits, and merriment abound as history and traditions are set aside to celebrate life.

On the steppe, there is one rule that is followed and respected above all else: you keep what you take. This applies to all things, for strength and cunning are the most valued traits among warriors here. In this beautiful golden grassland which stretches all the way to the mountains on the far horizon, there is no greater honor than fighting for what you desire and claiming it. No matter his background, any warrior may challenge another and take all he owns. Women battle for their love without hesitation, often fighting each other to claim a powerful warrior as their life mate. Merchants and traders steal each other's secrets through intrigue and betrayal.

None hesitate and none judge, for life here is short and unpredictable.

The heat and cold are harsh and merciless. Each year, there is less game to hunt and less resources to pull from to survive. Monsters roam the lands. Serpents fly through the skies and breathe flames. Stones come to life and seek destruction. The very elements give birth to spirits and creatures of unimaginable power, and if one is not strong of body and mind, a terrible end will come swiftly.

Each year, the situation worsens.

They say the steppe is dying.

Just like Sorocan described, they say my sacrifice will rejuvenate the land.

I should be proud. Glowing.

Yet, I still want no part of this.

My only wish is to find that missing piece of my heart. To return my memories and find where I truly belong.

The first night of the Conclave arrives too swiftly. Obtaining my vow that I will not try anything foolish, Sorocan agrees to let me venture out and partake in the celebrations. I'm dressed up in a lovely leather and cotton dress, my wrists and ankles cuffed with jingling bracelets, and my ears adorned with glimmering earrings. Sorocan takes me around the stalls to greet the people, bringing two warriors to guard me and ensure I don't try to escape again. We traverse winding rows of makeshift shops. It's a beautiful evening and an even more beautiful sight and experience. Roaring fires, handmade decorations of all shapes and colors, and people shining with ardor and passion as they trade, barter, and show off their craftsmanship. All comes together in a kaleidoscope of colors, scents, and sounds.

Despite all of this, my heart is dead as stone.

We meet other Chieftains, and I'm showered with gifts and praise and "thank-you's". As if any of these things could make me feel any less forlorn. All I want is to escape from here, yet I'm paraded around like our Tribe's prized possession. So many see me, yet none comment on my sickly complexion and the distinct lack of life in my eyes. They don't really see me. Just the Kismet. To them, I don't even have a name. Despite everything, I try not to despair. Instead, I look around at the wealth of strangers and pray that I'll find a familiar face to jog my memories. I pray that the tattoo on my wrist might guide me to my other half, that one lost piece of my heart that I so yearn for.

As the final stop of the evening, Sorocan takes me to see the warriors who will be competing this year for the title of Champion. The men have set up carved wooden fences in the shape of a great big circle to act as a ring of combat. The first series of matches of the Conclave is to take place tonight, and the tension and excitement is palpable among those visiting the area to get a glimpse of the fighters. The yurts here are packed with adoring women. Whispers and gossip abound between blushing cheeks and excited maidenly squealing. Apparently, there is a new warrior competing this year who has already earned quite a reputation for himself. They call him Arataan - the White Wolf - and they say he has a strength and power bestowed by the Gods themselves. He's challenged other warriors already, and so far he is undefeated.

"My sister saw him riding in with the Chieftain of the East," one girl whispers to her giggling friends. "She said he's bigger than a bear."

"My lak'lah caught a glimpse of him earlier in the day," another girl says. "She couldn't stop talking about how strange he looks. He was an Outsider once, wasn't he?"

Sorocan is conversing with another Speaker in a different part of the yurt. Since she holds my leash, I can't stray too far from her. So, I settle in to listen to the gossiping women. Talking about the warriors isn't something I'm interested in, but I suppose my curiosity is piqued. I've hardly spoken to any of the girls in our Tribe, but they seem unusually excited about the arrival of this one man.

"There is nothing strange about him," a curvy young woman with braided long hair smiles. "He is so handsome that no words can describe him."

"Did you see him?" a girl to her right asks, grabbing at her shoulder.

"I did. He has eyes like rubies and hair that's silver like a shooting star."

The girls all gasp and sigh.

Silver hair and red eyes? How unusual. Most of the people in the Tribes have dark hair and eyes except the Northerners. He must have been born with a mark of the Gods, much like me. Had he been a woman, he might have been chosen to be the Kismet. Then, I could have been the mighty warrior instead of just a helpless Priestess. The thought makes me smile, and I suppress the urge to giggle at how ridiculous that sounds.

"He will be the Champion for sure," a girl squeaks with excitement. "He already defeated Batu of the North and Tögöldör of the South. They were both Champions the last two Conclaves. I wish I could have seen Batu's face. He's always saying he's the strongest in the land."

"I want to give the White Wolf my pouch this year," one of them swoons. "I've already made one in case I find someone I like."

Another girl laughs. "You and a hundred others. I'll be he'll have a whole basket of pouches to choose from when the Conclave is done."

A tap on my shoulder breaks me from my thoughts. Sorocan stands over me, and I get to my feet to follow her to her next destination. As we exit the yurt, she begins leading us to the warriors' quarters. We trudge up a small hill to a secluded set of dwellings. Before entering, Sorocan stops me.

"Because of the struggles so many of our Tribes have faced these past years, the Chieftains and Speakers have decided to augment our traditions. This year, the Champion and several of the strongest warriors will be paired with girls of our choosing."

I tilt my head, only half listening. "Paired?"

"To couple and bear children for the sake of the Tribe's continued survival."

I stare at Sorocan blankly, not sure why she's telling me all this.

"Kismet, it is within your power to pass the blessing of the Gods to those you touch. I must ask you to do this now for our strongest warriors. Bless them with your power. Give our warriors the strength to fight so we can choose the most worthy to continue our bloodline."

I put my hands on my hips, my throat growing tight. I can't believe this woman is asking me for a favor when all she's done is imprison and ridicule me. "No," I tell her. "I refuse."

Sorocan's eyes grow narrow. She frowns at me. "Even in this, you will rebel? When it costs you nothing to touch a warrior's shoulder and give him the gift of inspiration?"

I look at her long and hard, contemplating my options. How badly does she need this? Do I have enough leverage to use it to my advantage? I try to read her body language, but I'm tired and drained. Today has been too eventful. I've done more walking, speaking, and interacting than than I've done in weeks. I cross my arms over my chest, deciding that there's really nothing for me to lose.

"If you want this from me, you will give me something in return."

Sorocan's hand tightens on her cane. A cleft forms between her white eyebrows.

"Speak your terms, then. However, your freedom isn't negotiable."

I hesitate, trying to form my end of the bargain the right way. What can I ask that might sound like a small request unrelated to my ceremony? What can I ask for that might sound like something an ordinary girl might wish for before her death? I don't want Sorocan to know she hasn't broken me yet. If she realizes that I still have hope, she might tighten my guard again.

"I want to meet the White Wolf."

The words tumble out of my mouth before I can think them through. For some reason, he's the first thing that popped into my mind.

"The Arataan?" Sorocan asks, her brows shooting up into the air. "Don't tell me you're taken in by all the gossip about him." Suddenly, she looks suspicious. "Don't tell me that you saw him and were charmed by his good looks. Let me remind you, child. You are no ordinary maiden. You are spoken for by our Divine."

"So I am not allowed to fall in love like other girls? To give a pouch to a warrior I favor?"

Sorocan looks angered now. I want nothing to do with love or pouches. At this point, all of that seems like a frivolous joke. I just want to get a rise out of the Speaker. To make her feel even half the frustration that's in my heart.

"The Kismet only loves her Divine."

I shake my head. "I simply want to meet him."

"Impossible," Sorocan says. "The Kismet is a symbol of purity and virtue. Your one and only partner shall be your Divine in the heavens. You shall not be left alone with any man at any point in time."

I squash down my frustration. Spitefulness takes over. "Then, may I bless him with you beside me?"

I can't help it. I can see my words have angered our Speaker, and the bitter pleasure that runs through me is just delicious. How else can I ruin her day? Heck, how else can I ruin this entire Conclave? If I make a nuisance of myself, surely they will hate me so much they will just throw me out of the Tribe. If I'm supposed to be a symbol of purity and virtue –

Stars.

An idea strikes me. Vile and terrible. But, I'm desperate. I have no recourse.

"Sorocan," I begin, forcing my expression into one of embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I've just realized that what I'm saying is pretty ridiculous and selfish."

The Speaker doesn't answer.

"I'm sorry. So, will you let me step back and ask for something else?"

My pleading tone must have worked. The Speaker grumbles but tells me to continue.

"I still haven't accepted what you've told me about my role as the Kismet. I still don't want to be a part of the ceremony. But, maybe it's because I don't remember anything about the Tribe. I can't identify with something I can't remember."

Sorocan glares at me. "You've never shown any interest in regaining your memories of our people, and you've never expressed any concern about our plight. What's come over you?"

"After seeing everyone today, I figured out some things for myself. I see how beautiful our culture is and how hard everyone is working for this Conclave. Can you please let me continue watching the festival and meeting other people? Maybe something will help me remember. Maybe if I remember my connection to these men and women, I'll be more ready to surrender..." I take a dramatic deep breath, "...and be the sacrifice."

It takes some more convincing, but Sorocan agrees to give me some independence during the Conclave. She can't afford to ignore the possibility that I might become a willing participant in her plans.

We go into the warriors' yurts, and I bless the fighters one by one as promised. It is clear whom the Gods have chosen, for when I touch their shoulders my hands light up with a brilliant golden light. Those warriors are tapped and led away, likely to have the conversation about their new duties this year.

In this way, I meet all of our fighters. All except the White Wolf. According to Sorocan, he is undergoing some kind of ritual prior to the first fights tonight and doesn't want to be disturbed. I wonder how a mere warrior has the right to refuse a visit from a Speaker and blessings from the Kismet. He must be much more important than I realize.

Once the blessings are done, Sorocan takes me to the Speaker's throne in the makeshift arena. It's a series of ornately carved wooden chairs called the Honored Seats. The length of their legs is adjusted based on hierarchy. The Chieftains sit in the highest seats with the Speakers just below them. All others sit on the ground to watch the combat. The Kismet sits with the Speaker, and as we find our seats and wrap ourselves in some wool shawls, the Game Master blows a colossal onyx horn to signal the start of the event. The ground shakes beneath our feet from the deep earthy bellow.

Warriors enter the ring in order of rank based on their prowess. They're dressed in traditional garb: loose cotton pants to allow for ease of movement, leather boots to give traction on the ground while fighting, and a leather piece of armor on the chest. Each fighter wears a thick corded necklace around his neck. As the fights progress, wool braids of different colors will be hung on them for each of the warriors' victories. I wring my hands together as men of various heights and builds march onto the field, holding my breath until I finally see him.

The White Wolf enters the ring last, marking him as the strongest of the fighters. I can't make out his features from this distance, but the first thing that catches my eye is his shining crown of white hair. It isn't styled like a typical warrior's cut. In fact, there's absolutely nothing "typical" about this man. His necklace is already covered in braids, showing off the victories that earned him his place in this pecking order. Added to those braids are various vicious looking fangs from beasts and monsters.

The gossip I'd heard in the yurt earlier that day was absolutely accurate. He is massive. As he passes the other warriors, he towers over them. His shoulders are big and broad. The leather armor on his chest is more revealing than the others, showing off his incredible physique. With each step, his muscles ripple in waves. He's shaped like a lean predator, and everything about his stance says that he's ready to strike at any moment. Each step he takes is graceful and measured.

My hands tighten, wadding together parts of my thick skirt. So, this is the man that will decide my fate. I must find a way to meet him alone and undisturbed. My life depends on it.

As the warriors all bow respectfully to the audience, the three strongest approach our seating area to pay respect to the Chieftains, Speakers, and the Kismet. My body grows tense. As they near us, I can finally make out the White Wolf's features. My eyes trace his chiseled jaw, muscular neck, and aquiline nose. His silver eyebrows arch gracefully over sharp slanted blood red eyes. It's a color more beautiful than any I remember seeing. My heart stills in my chest.

Suddenly, my wrist is burning.

I rub my other hand against it, flinching at the pain.

It's like a snake is wrapping around my arm.

Tighter and tighter.

And then I realize it. The closer the three warriors come to us, the more painful the pressure on my wrist. My eyes go wide. It's one of these men!

One of these warriors is the person I've been seeking!

It takes all of my willpower not to fly to my feet and shout. After all, I've made a bargain with Sorocan. I'm supposed to be learning the ways of these people so I can resign myself to my fate. Frustrated, I search the warriors' faces for any sign that they feel the same discomfort. Maybe they have a mark, too. Would it react to mine? Would they even be aware of it?

"Greetings, proud combatants," our Chieftain says as he rises to his feet. He stretches out his arms, and his red, orange, and earth toned wool robes spread out around him like a hawk's mighty wings. "As you know, this Conclave is different from many others. In this time of darkness and difficulty, it is even more vital that we elevate the strongest among us to preserve our traditions and fight for the continuation of our Tribes." He gestures of the Ring and the fighters within.

"This tradition has been held for hundreds of years. Our strongest fight with all their strength to take the title of Champion. With that title, comes great reward. Glory, honor, and of course the Champion's jewel –" he reaches into a chest sitting before him and takes out a multi-layered silver chain. Attached to it is a fiery red gem about the size of my palm. "The gem called Daybreak!"

Whispers break out around those seated around the Ring as the Chieftain shows it to all. "The last time we held this Conclave, it was I who claimed Daybreak for my own. Now, I offer to pass it to the next Champion." The Chieftain looks down at the White Wolf and the warriors to his left and right.

"Batu of the North," he calls. The warrior to the right of the White Wolf crosses his big fist over his chest and kneels down. He has short golden hair with a single thin braid stretching down past his shoulders. On the end, I see a few colored beads and an emerald hued feather.

"Tögöldör of the South," the Chieftain nods. The warrior to the left of the White Wolf mimicks the actions of Batu and also kneels before our leader. His hair is dark as night and flows down to his waist in a thick braid.

"We have a new addition to our most honored warriors. Arataan, the White Wolf. Once, he was an Outsider. Yet, he has proven to us that he is blessed by the Gods themselves. The Speakers have welcomed him into the Eastern Tribe. He is now their strongest and fiercest!"

The audience goes wild with cheers and cries of support, particularly the women. Though Tögöldör and Batu remain reserved and expressionless, the other warriors standing in the Ring don't look pleased in the least. The White Wolf's expression is hard to read. I can't imagine a greater honor than standing before the Chieftains and receiving the adoration and admiration of all the Tribes and their leaders like this. Yet, he looks entirely disinterested.

The Chieftain waves for the crowd to calm, and eventually silence fills the field again. "Brothers and sisters, as I have said this Conclave will be different from any prior to it. The Champion and the three strongest warriors will be paired with our loveliest maidens to couple and produce heirs that will carry the fire of our Tribes into the future."

More cheers from the crowd, even wilder this time. Apparently, the people approve of this spontaneous addition to the festivities. Once again, the Chieftain waves for the audience to quiet down.

"In addition to the Champion receiving Daybreak as his reward and having first choice of pairing partners, the Chieftains and Speakers have agreed to grant him a single wish. He may ask for any reward and claim it as his own without reservation." The Chieftain raises his hands high into the air. "Because these three warriors have proven themselves as the likeliest candidates for the title of Champion in the sacred Conclave, they may speak now and tell the Chieftains what their wishes might be."

He points - "Batu, speak your wish."

The golden-haired warrior rises to his feet. He thumps his fist across his chest. "My wish, honored leader, is to become the new Chieftain of the North and to carry on in my Father's footsteps!"

The Chieftain nods. "Granted. Fight, then, for that honor." He points to the next man - "Tögöldör, speak your wish."

The onyx-haired warrior rises to his feet. Much like Batu, he thumps his chest and states that he wishes to become the Chieftain of the South. Also like his father. The fact that both the warriors have the same wish tells me that this is nothing more than a grand show for the crowd. The Chieftains' sons will inherit the reins of their Tribe if they manage to win the title of Champion. More cheers this time. Even more deafening. I tune them out, focusing on the warriors.

Suddenly, the White Wolf's eyes jump to me, and from the second that our gazes meld, the mark around my wrist bursts into a fresh wave of agony. Chaotic images flash through my mind, but I can't make out any details. I waver dizzily in my seat, nausea rising in my belly. A throbbing pain begins to pound in my temple. My hands clench into fists until my nails dig into my palms.

"Child, are you alright?" Sorocan asks beside me. Her voice sounds so far away. I can't break away from the White Wolf's gaze, and before my wide eyes he lifts his right hand and tugs down his glove as though adjusting it. My body breaks out in cold sweat. A thousand needles stab into the nerves along my spine. Goosebumps cover my arms. There, wrapped around his muscled forearm is a mark identical to mine.

"Arataan, speak your wish for all to hear," the Chieftain shouts, his voice piercing through my trance.

The White Wolf looks towards our leader and takes a few steps forward. He does not thump his chest or lower his head. His chin remains tilted up in a regal and arrogant manner as his full sensual lips curve into a satisfied smirk.

"I have one wish," he calls. His voice is deep and dark, like the rumbling of thunder in a wild storm. My heart pounds in my chest as he places one hand on his hip. "But, really, I don't need to speak it. If you do not allow me to claim what is rightfully already mine, then I will take it by force."

Hushed whispers and murmurs ripple through the crowd. The Chieftain doesn't seem intimidated. In fact, he seems impressed. "Speak, then. Tell us your desire."

Slowly, deliberately, the White Wolf raises his large hand and points a finger towards the Honored Seats.

"That woman there is mine," he says.

My heart stops in that moment, for there is no doubt that he is pointing directly at me.

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylusposting #sylus/mc #sylus #eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace fanfic #lnds #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 5 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 15

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/151406866

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12 / Ch 13 / Ch 14

Sylus sits on the throne-like armchair in his receiving room reading a report about a recent Onychinus raid when the twins walk in. They push open the room's massive metal double doors and strut in with an air of confidence and excitement. Luke has a bounce in his step as he leads a small child no older than six years of age behind him. Kieran is noticeably more subdued as he holds a man by the scruff of his shirt, dragging his limp body on the floor as he walks.

Sylus frowns at the trail of blood Kieran leaves in his wake. He rubs at his temple, hoping that the twins followed his instructions and weren't too enthusiastic in softening this guy up before interrogation. Judging by how the man is whimpering and the tears and snot running down his face, they've definitely given him enough motivation to start talking at least. Overkill, really. A few minutes one on one with this man will give Sylus all the information he needs. Such a show of force wasn't necessary, but he can't expect his bloodhounds to show strategic restraint when it comes to violence.

He glances at the sniffling coward on the ground.

Felix Blaze, a scientist that likely knows more about the Aether Core and its potential than the majority of humans alive in this day and age. During his rise to fame amongst the ranks of Onychinus, he'd championed the creation of fake Protocores using the living as a sacrifice among a series of other morally questionable techniques. Well. To each his own. It was a mad scientist's prerogative to experiment and toy with life like a child with blocks, was it not? Sylus held nothing personally against him for following his deranged nature.

What was personal was Sylus's destruction of the man's life some years ago. When he razed Felix's first laboratory to the ground, it hadn't been a crusade to champion the innocents his research targeted. He'd done it because the man had dared to set his gaze on the Aether Core and the one possessing it. At the time, Sylus still wasn't certain if he'd be able to find Ellara in this world. But, he wasn't about to take any chances.

Despite the heavy financial cost to Onychinus, Sylus leveled the six block compound in a single evening of explosions and napalm, ensuring there would be nothing left to salvage. He'd saved the information needed to start over in another lab for other sources of research and income, safeguarding the scientists of his choosing. Felix wasn't one of them, and Sylus was certain that the mad scientist had perished in the flames. A recent discovery, however, suggested that the scientist hadn't died in the inferno after all. Instead, he'd escaped to Noxis to start his work all over again.

Honestly. Humans really are just like roaches.

Standing from his chair, Sylus rises to greet the twins and their charges. The pair had completed their mission in record time. He'd allotted at least two weeks for the infiltration of the lab and the capture of the notorious Felix Blaze. Yet, they'd returned in just a few days. Sylus isn't sure whether that means he's overestimating Malakai and the security at his compound or if the twins are just that good.

Or, perhaps they'd found an unexpected advantage.

His eyes flit to the boy trailing after Luke. He's got a shoulder length mop of fiery red hair. Streaks of random grey hair litter the cloud of frizzy and matted waves. His eyes are silver. Watching him walk timidly behind the twins gives Sylus some nostalgic flashbacks of the time when he first met his faithful bloodhounds. It's not just the boy's appearance that triggers the memories; it's everything from the signs of abuse all over his body, his greying hair, and the glint of madness so alien to a child's typical features.

Later, perhaps, he will ask Luke and Kieran what their intentions are for this boy. Though, now that he's gotten a good look at him, said intentions are clear as day.

"You've done well," Sylus drawls to his loyal servants, greeting them with his hands in his pockets.

"As you directed, Boss-man," Kieran announces, picking up the rather heavyset scientist with one hand and tossing him across the room towards Sylus with a relaxed motion. He doesn't check his strength, and the man goes rolling, stopping only when Sylus puts his heel against his body to halt his momentum. The bloodied man shakes and cries, particularly when he finally looks up and meets his enemy's eyes.

"S-Sylus..."

"I see you remember me. Then I won't bother with introductions. I'll also assume you already know what I want from you."

Felix cries out and curls into a shaking ball. Impatient with his sputtering, Sylus uses his Evol to lift his body into the air. Red and black mist surrounds him. Felix screams in fright, and it's all the opportunity Sylus needs to seize hold of his vision and his mind. More screams fill the room, echoing off the marble. Piece by piece, Sylus syphons knowledge from the man's memories. Unfortunately, most of it is information he's already privy to. Though, there is one gem tucked away in his head.

"The Progenitor," Sylus smiles. "Quite the lofty name for the clone of a dead man."

He continues his work, rummaging around in Felix's mind unconcerned about the consequences. As his brain begins to turn to mush, the man's screams start to die down. Soon, he'll be a vegetable. But, no matter. Killing him weakens Malakai. The man will be hard pressed to replace the leader of the Re-Birth project. Now that he's intimately familiar with this man's thoughts, Sylus can see where it's meant to lead.

The search for immortality? False Protocores? A drug meant to suppress Evol and an antidote giving a "miraculous" cure? It's all so familiar that it's borderline boring. Just as Sylus suspected, A.R.C.A.N.E is simply one tiny branch of EVER. And the Progenitor? Well. Malakai certainly has some grand ambitions. Taking Felix won't stop him; he's too well funded and too far along in the project. EVER will likely provide a replacement quickly, especially since Felix's memories suggest that he was on the verge of a breakthrough.

What's not so expected is EVER's awareness of Ellara's hidden ability to devour Evol. It seems they're poised to take advantage of this, and the first guinea pig is to be her favored partner, Xavier. By breaking his collar, Sylus sought to give him the strength to protect her while he was chasing Malakai. But, he sees now that this might have been a mistake. He's sped up their timeline, which means he's now forced to escalate his own.

It means there's even less room for error.

If he's cornered EVER in any way, there's no telling how far they will go to obtain what they want. Sylus turns on his heel to face the twins, his eyes settling on the child cowering behind Luke's leg. He walks forward until he's standing right in front of his follower. Sylus raises his hand, and the man obediently steps aside. Left unprotected, the child's palpable fear intensifies. His bright silver eyes are huge in his small face, though there is no visible emotion in them. Other things hint at his trepidation. He doesn't make eye contact, staring at his bare feet. His pallor grows more pronounced, giving his skin a sickly green hue. His hands wring together in front of him.

"Look at me," Sylus commands. "You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide."

Sylus reaches out to find the child's motivations. He refrains from using the same technique that he used on Felix. There's no need. A child's mind is easier to mold and easier to search. Their desires are more shallow and lie just below the surface of their awareness. After a minute, it's clear that this boy has no connection with Sylus's enemies. Thus, he releases him and steps away.

"What's the verdict, Boss?" Kieran asks to his left.

How interesting. He sounds almost invested in this boy's fate. Amusing to think the twins might have found something to consider valuable, though it would be better if the only thing they saw as such was their work in his service. The last thing Sylus needs is for this child to put a chink in his bloodhounds' armor. He prefers their heartlessness, for it guarantees loyalty.

"He has some knowledge that might be useful," Sylus says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I trust whatever you have planned for him won't be a thorn in my side."

"Of course not, Boss," Luke assures him. "You won't even see him unless you command us to bring him to you."

"See to that. Your first priority is Malakai," Sylus reminds the twins, his tone firm.

"Understood," they say in unison.

Sylus gestures to Felix's comatose body. "Clean this up."

"Yes, Boss," the twins bow their heads.

Having dealt with this, Sylus lets all thought of his followers slip to the back of his mind. He exits the receiving room and makes his way upstairs to take a shower. It's been a rather long night, yet there is still much to be decided. Many pieces must still be moved into position on the chess board. Regrettably, the plans he'd made for himself and Ellara must be put off. Rather than simply taking her sailing on his yacht for a few days, he needs to find a way to help her trigger more of her power.

She's shut herself away so tightly. If what happened at their first meeting is any indication, triggering her Evol's full strength isn't just about physical power or training. Something is stopping her mentally, perhaps emotionally. Deep in thought, Sylus takes the elevator down to his basement armory. His feet lead him to a vault hidden behind a panel in the wall, his eyes settling on an ornate dagger with a bright red gem in its hilt. It sits inside a case made of triple-paned glass and tungsten. As soon as Sylus steps close to it, his Evol reacts to the gem inside. Dark black and red mist swirls around his body.

The weapon is one of his most valuable possessions, but there is nothing more valuable to him than Ellara and her safety. This dagger can offer her something priceless: an experience without the cost of time. An adventure where Ellara might be able to learn more of herself and find the key to the missing pieces of her power. Naturally, there is risk involved, but that's why she won't be going alone.

Sylus places his hand on the glass case, his lips curving into a bitter smile. If only Sorocan could see him now. What would she say? Sylus never believed that he would want to return to the steppe where he'd once lost so much. Yet here he is, ready to face it once again. The boundaries of time and space had blurred much since he'd first been there; as a human, it's very likely Sorocan is no longer in this world. Yet, he's certain that the monsters there have survived the stretch of eternity, as have Sorocan's people. Would the rest of them welcome another monster with open arms as she had once? There is only one way to find out.

Sylus checks his phone.

He types a quick message to Ellara. To his supreme satisfaction, she answers with almost no delay. Did his little Hunter miss him so much that she was looking out for his texts?

S: What's the soonest you can come on a trip with me?

K: Is this the trip you were talking about before?

S: It's not what I originally had in mind, but it's good to be spontaneous sometimes, isn't it?

K: I don't think there's ever been a time when you weren't, though.

S: I haven't heard you complain yet.

K: I have. You just don't listen.

Sylus chuckles at that. Though he can't hear her voice or sense her presence, imagining her curled up on her couch with a steaming cup of tea while she types to him makes him feel...different. His heart isn't racing, but a pleasant warmth spreads through it.

S: So, what's your answer, kitten? How soon can I sweep you away from your cozy little apartment?

K: Can you give me a day or two? What do I pack?

S: No packing necessary. I'll send a car to pick you up.

K: How long will we be gone?

Sylus rubs at his chin, choosing his words carefully.

S: That's up to you, sweetie.

Winter cradles Linkon in a cocoon of ice and falling snow as I leave it behind me. Autumn with its vibrancy and playful evening breezes is long gone, giving way to wool scarves, thick boots, mufflers, and hats. In the wake of its departure, the city is transformed. Couples walk the streets hand in hand, marveling at the multicolored lights and decorations hanging from seemingly every major store front. Wreaths of all shapes and sizes accent light poles, doors, and windows. The entire city is celebrating the coming holidays with bright signs, gaudy and adorable balloon characters, and rows upon rows of newly established market stalls.

Yet, as I enter it, I see that the N109 Zone remains stubbornly detached from all such celebrations and cheer. It's dark, damp, and gloomy as always, untouched by the holiday spirit. Even the falling snow lacks any kind of luster; it's more like ash than ice. In the obscure moonlight, the city looks as cold and aloof as I remember it. It's a beast of its own making, and I sigh as Sylus's car takes me deep into the heart of it. I understand Sylus's hatred for sunlight, but what exactly about this frigid darkness appeals to him? How can he stand to live here, locked so far away from anything that feels even remotely...alive?

Once, Sylus expressed a fondness for Linkon's blossoms in the spring and even the vibrant shedding leaves of fall. What, then, does he think about winter? And, has he really seen how Linkon celebrates the season? If the gloom of the N109 is all he's experienced when it comes to this time of year, I hope that one day I could show him how those who live in the light like to welcome the new year. We might even be like those strolling couples on the street, holding hands and sharing a pouch of roasted chestnuts while we admire the scenery. Such a thought makes me giddy. After all, it implies that we will stay by each others side at least that long.

Yet, I have no surety of that. Sylus and I are so very far apart in terms of lifestyle. I'm a Deepspace Hunter, and he is the undisputed King of N109. Not only does physical distance separate us, but moral obligations do as well. Not to mention, so many things are about to change. How will my coming transfer affect things between Sylus and myself? I have no way of knowing. Our bond seems so delicate, so fragile. What if it breaks? Will I be able to pick up the pieces? To pick up my pieces? Saying it that way is more accurate because I'm well aware now that if I lose him, I'll break. Maybe forever.

When I exit the car in front of Sylus's home, I'm full of these mixed feelings and unanswered questions. On my shoulder, Mephisto ruffles his feathers and makes a contented noise. He's likely glad to be close to his master again, though its only been a few days since we both saw him last. In too many ways, I can empathize with Mephisto's relief. Maybe I'm even projecting my own longing onto the mechanical creature. Since it's just in my head, I'll go ahead and admit that the two days after I initially received Sylus's mysterious invitation dragged about as badly as an unwelcome multi-day safety seminar at work.

I glance at the double doors at the front of the estate, and it takes quite a bit of willpower not to rush through them. Bundling myself tighter in my puffy jacket to keep out the chill, I'm feeling a little empty-handed. Though I brought along my trusted blasters and a few essentials, I followed Sylus's direction not to bother packing. With me not really being a purse kind of girl, I walk up and ring the doorbell then stand in place, not quite knowing what to do with my hands. I've got nothing to fidget with aside from the buttons on my winter coat, but I resist the mighty temptation in favor of not looking like a nervous schoolgirl about to go on her first date.

I have no clue why Sylus invited me or what his intentions are. He said we might be gone a few days, but he's given me no idea what to expect. Knowing him, his plans could be as romantic as a boat ride to some remote island he happens to own in the middle of nowhere or as thrilling as chasing down some powerful Wanderer or artifact in a corner of the world I've never even heard of. He'd mentioned that this trip would help prepare me for my transfer into the emergency quarantine zone in Goldwood City. Somehow, I doubt that this trip will have anything to do with romance.

At that thought, I find myself frowning. I can't let Sylus force me to march at his pace this time around. After what happened with Xavier, I made the decision to corner him and get him to explain exactly where he saw all this going. No matter where he takes me or what the plan is, my personal goal is to confirm the status of our relationship from his own mouth. No more implications. No more vague promises. Is this just a temporary fling? Or does he see us as something serious in his life? One way or another, I am going to force the answer out of him.

The doors open before me, but there's no indication of who did the opening. As I walk inside the mansion, I once again get the eerie feeling that ghosts and not actual people are servicing this place. Everything is meticulous and tidy; not a spec of dust on any shelves. The dining room table is covered to the brim with fresh food as always, but there's no sign of servants, staff, or anyone that could be responsible for keeping all of this in order. With the size of this place, it likely takes a full group of people to maintain it. So, why have I never seen anyone here aside from Sylus and the twins?

I help myself to a plate of chicken and salad, feeling rather hungry after neglecting lunch and dinner. I'd been too nervous about seeing Sylus again, and it had put me off of eating for most of the day. However, as was always the case when I was in this room, I'm suddenly starving. The food tastes incredible. What lottery do I have to win to hire this chef to come cook for me? I don't care if he just meal preps and freezes boxes for the week. With food of this caliber, even frozen meals would trump the convenience store packages and ramen that make up my normal regimen.

Just as I start looking around for a place to leave my dirty plate, a dark mist gathers all around my body. I get a spark of déjà vu as Sylus appears from within, stepping out of the chaotic swirl of Evol to stand directly in front of me. Black ghostly feathers fall around us like snow. His shoes click on the pristine marble floor as he stalks towards me. Chin raised. Sensual lips curved into a smile. And his eyes...oh, those eyes.

I steady myself against a rush of desire.

He's wearing his trademark black and red shirt with his armored jacket hanging from his shoulders. I'm determined not to notice the way his clothes hug his lithe form, so I end up staring down at my plate. He thwarts me immediately. Before I can even summon a coherent thought, his elegant long fingered hand reaches out for me. Calloused fingers slip beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his heart-stopping red gaze.

I stop breathing when the corners of his slanted eyes crinkle in response to his gentle smile. "You're early," he says, and I'm still struggling to remember how to process air in and out of my lungs. "Were you so anxious for my company?"

He really has no idea what an understatement that is.

Or maybe he does.

I wouldn't put it past him.

"The food is always so good here," I ramble. "I thought I might grab a bite before we left."

The corner of his mouth twitches a little. He knows very well I'm full of shit, but he doesn't call me out on it. He's perfectly willing to let me operate with my pride in tact for now, and I greatly appreciate the show of mercy.

"So the next time I want to see you, I should tempt you with some delicacies?" He smirks, and I step back. I trust him implicitly. But, I don't think I'll ever be able to get over that predatory glint in his eyes. I honestly don't want to. I might be dense, but I can be honest with myself and admit how much I love it when he makes me feel like he's about to pounce on me.

"Or you could just send your chef over to my place," I smile.

With a wave of Sylus's hand, his mist erodes the plate and fork in my hands. They vanish in a cloud of white dust. I'm about to make some snarky comment about dishwashing when Sylus pulls me close. One hand settles on my waist while the other caresses up my back. I'm forced to look at him now, and the way my heart pounds in my ears is disorienting.

As soon as I'm in his arms, I feel a kind of relief. All my worries and fears dissipate. My hand comes up to touch his cheek. Then, his silky white hair. His eyes speak everything I want to say while his fingertips trace my spine. Those sublime fingers tell the story I would want to tell if not for my stubborn pride. The story of how I'd longed for him. Of how I'd been waiting for this moment. For his touch, for his arms around me, for his heat to envelop me.

A few days.

It's just been a couple of days since he held me in his arms.

How could I have missed him this much?

How is it possible that his touch can have this kind of effect on me?

I clear my throat, letting my hands rest on his broad chest. I pick at one of his buttons.

"So, where are we going for this trip?" I ask.

"It's not something that can be explained," he says. "Let me show you." He helps me out of my coat then slides his hand down my arm until he threads his fingers with mine. It's such an intimate thing, yet with Sylus it's completely natural.

He leads me to his armory, and as we take the elevator several floors below ground, the surrounding cold has me shivering. I've only been here a few times, yet the breadth and size of this place continues to amaze me. I can't imagine that Sylus really needs any of these weapons to win any encounter. Most look functional, though, while others do seem more like collectibles. We weave through the labyrinthine corridors of this place until we arrive at a half empty room. Sylus reaches behind a beautiful kwan dao adorned with a coiling golden dragon.

A click echoes around us before one of the side walls hisses open to reveal a hidden passage.

I follow Sylus inside to find several rows of glass and tungsten display cases. There are various kinds of weapons here including blasters, swords, daggers, and even an enormous claymore. He stops in front of one particular display case which contains a wicked looking onyx knife. It's blade is etched with patterns that look like dunes while the hilt is inset with a hypnotic red gem.

"What a beautiful stone," I gasp, truly mesmerized.

"The locals call it 'Daybreak'," Sylus explains.

I frown as a familiar burning tickles at my senses. Reaching out, I touch my hand to the display case. "I sense Metaflux," I frown. "Is this gem a Protocore?"

Sylus pushes a combination on the number pad attached to the display case. It beeps then buzzes open. With care, Sylus removes the dagger from its resting place then hands it to me.

"This has been part of my antique collection for some time. A treasure from the steppe."

I hold the weapon gingerly. "What part of the world?"

Sylus seems to hesitate. "There is a place," he says, resting his thumbs in his pockets, "where the grassland meets the desert. I spent some time there once, and the tribe's leader gifted me this dagger."

I tilt my head as I search his face.

"What's that look for, sweetie?" Sylus teases. "Seems like you're dying to ask me something."

I purse my lips. "The more I learn about you, the less I really know about you."

Sylus chuckles. "Doesn't a good mystery make things more interesting?"

If by mystery he means himself, then yes - he certainly does. Ever since I'd met Sylus, there is absolutely no trace of normality left in my life. Poking him playfully, I grip the dagger's handle with both hands and attempt to resonate with it. Yet, I don't feel the familiar surge of energy flow into me. I try several more times, but nothing happens.

"How strange. I can definitely feel Metaflux coming from this, but I just can't seem to--" I almost bite my tongue as something yanks on my wrist. In a split second, I'm squished up against Sylus's chest. A familiar pressure encircles my wrist, and I glance down to see that the Linkage has been triggered again. Its trapped the hand holding the dagger. The curse that flies from my mouth isn't meant for gentle ears. When I look up at Sylus, my anger flares at the obvious amusement on his face.

"This isn't funny," I bite out.

"It actually is," he counters.

"Aren't we supposed to leave soon? How are we supposed to go anywhere in this state?"

"We could break it," Sylus suggests as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"This isn't the time for joking around." I try to elbow him in the ribs, but he catches my wrist. His free arm wraps around me, pulling me so tight against him that my cheeks grow hot.

"Why do you think I'm joking?" he teases.

"Because you know full well this thing can't be broken."

"We managed it once."

"When?" I try to remember what he means, but I'm so aware of him that I'm having trouble thinking of much past how good he feels against me. When he leans in closer to speak, I can smell his masculine shampoo.

"Your visit to the symposium," he reminds me, his voice softening into a seductive rumble. "We just need to recreate the scenario from last time. Though, there isn't a closet here that can accommodate such vigorous pursuits."

I have absolutely nothing intelligent to contribute to this discussion anymore, especially with how close his mouth is to mine. My hand clenches against his chest, pulling in a wad of his silken shirt. His deep vermillion gaze turns to velvet burgundy, his pupils widening as his attention snags on my lips. He leans in even closer, and just as our lips are about to touch, I breathe -

"Wait..."

He pauses, and I work to gather up my courage.

"There's something I need to know...before any of this goes any further..."

He watches me patiently, his eyes focused and intense.

"What are we to each other, Sylus?" He doesn't answer right away, so I keep going. "You said you love me. What does that mean to you?"

He looks at me long and hard. I can't read him at all, and I start to flounder in my insecurity. Finally, he speaks.

"I believe, kitten, that I'm not the one you should be asking all this." The back of his hand strokes my cheek. "Did you not also tell me you loved me?"

"I do," I say without a trace of hesitation.

The corner of his mouth turns upward, but his smile is strained. There's a faint line between the wings of his eyebrows. It's an expression I've only seen on his face once before when I was injured. There's a sudden bitterness buried deep within his eyes.

"Then, what are we to each other?" he asks.

I scramble to answer him as he throws my own question right back at me. Hang on just a darn minute. How did the tables turn so quickly? He's the one that's supposed to answer that, not me. I know what I want out of this --

The realization hits me like a thunderbolt, and I flinch away from the pain and confusion of it.

I don't know. I have no idea. I'm asking him right now because I want him to bear the burden of that decision. I can hear the excuses in my mind now, things I might have said if our forbidden relationship was suddenly discovered.

He led and I followed.

He seduced me.

I just went with it.

All of those are a weakling's way out. Yet, up until a moment ago, I was using them to justify my own indecision all this time.

Oh, God. Am I that much of a coward?

"It...It isn't up to me..." I say, trailing off at the last part.

He looks right through me, right into my heart. It's like he can see every hidden corner. Every doubt. Every insecurity.

"And why not? I think of the two of us, you are the one most bothered by labels and identities. It doesn't matter to me who you work for or even the form you choose to take. To me, you are simply Ellara." The pad of his thumb traces my lower lip. If it's possible, his voice softens even further. "It has always been and will always be so."

I love him.

I adore him.

There's absolutely no doubt of that.

He's everything.

But, he's also the leader of Onychinus. Can I...am I allowed to be that selfish?

The Linkage tightens mercilessly at that thought.

"Sylus, I...I..."

A sudden violent wind picks up around us, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut against its intensity. My Evol stirs to life, seeking out a nearby font of Metaflux. The dagger in my Linked hand begins to burn at my skin. I try to drop it, but my fingers won't listen. The strong smell of fresh grass and wilderness fills my lungs. It's a stark contrast to the N109 Zone's terminally stale air.

I can't see anything except a blinding whiteness.

Strong arms hold me steady and familiar lips press against my cheek.

"If this is the question you must answer for yourself, then we will find the truth together."

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylusposting #sylus/mc #sylus #eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace fanfic #lnds #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 5 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 14

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/151115194

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12 / Ch 13

Master Felix whips around and slaps Alfie's face. Hard. Alfie had been carrying a tray of glass vials, and he holds onto it with all his strength to make sure none of them fall to the shiny white floor. His small hands shake. It hurts. It hurts so very much. Master Felix likes to slap him when Alfie makes a mistake. Likes to see the tears in his eyes and the welts his rings leave behind when he hits him just right.

"I'm sorry, Master Felix," Alfie mumbles on instinct.

"Do you know what you did wrong, Number Eight?" Felix asks, towering over him in his white lab coat. His black eyes look like the vats of tarry goo in the basement rooms, his white teeth gleaming like a shark's in the pulsing blue lights of the lab around them.

"I wasn't quick enough, Master Felix. I'm sorry. Please don't punish me." Alfie doesn't really know what he did wrong. He had made a mistake, of course. But, what was it? He had to figure it out so Master Felix wouldn't be angry anymore. He brought the vials just like the Master asked for. Maybe he didn't run fast enough. And the guards had stopped him, too. They liked stopping Alfie. Liked it when Master Felix punished him.

"Useless freak." With a sneer, the man licks his fingertips and smooths them over his gray stubble. He turns away from Alfie and back to his writing desk, sitting down in his black chair and sliding close to the desk on its wheels. "Get those vials processed. That's twice you've made a mistake today."

Oh no. One more time and Master Felix will put Alfie in the tank. He hated being in the tank. It's so cold and the frozen sleeping man floating inside likes to whisper things in Alfie's head. Master Felix calls him the Progenitor, but he's more like a monster. He says things and makes Alfie see things while he feeds off of his Evol until everything goes dark and his heart feels like it will stop. It's worse than Master Felix's slaps. A lot worse.

Trying to overcome his dread and fear, Alfie rushes over to the big red spinning machine and starts putting the vials inside their matching colored slots. It's up so high that he has to pull up a step stool. He's careful not to make any more mistakes. He's careful not to break any vials or to spill any of the clear liquid. It's precious, Master Felix says. There isn't much of it, so every drop is important. If Alfie spills even a little, the Master will put him in the tank until the Monster drains every bit of his Evol.

That's how the other kids died. Now the cages are empty, but not for long. Every once in a while, the guards bring more of them to the prison in the basement. They come from all over. Sometimes, they speak words nobody can understand. But, Alfie stopped trying to talk to them a long time ago. It's sad when he makes a friend and they get put in the tank. Nobody else has ever come out of there alive. Nobody except Alfie. Maybe that's why the Master made him his assistant. Maybe Alfie is special.

Once he finishes putting away the vials, Alfie begins cleaning the laboratory. Luckily there isn't any blood to clean today. Seeing blood makes Alfie nauseous. He mops and sweeps, dusting the counters and wiping away anything that could leave a stain. That's what Master Felix likes him to do when he isn't running errands. The lab has to be clean and tidy. Leaving even a spot on the floor or the counters will be a mistake. The Master will be angry, and Alfie will get slapped. Or put in the tank. Or left without dinner. None of that sounds good.

While Alfie is cleaning, Master Felix takes out his blue recorder and begins talking to it. He does that a lot. Usually, he talks about all the things he learned and did that day. Kind of like a diary. He really likes talking to himself, and Alfie likes to listen. He pretends that Master Felix is telling a story, and it helps calm Alfie's fear. Today, he talks about how Malakai came to the lab to ask about the Progenitor. Alfie remembers that. Everyone always acts so different when the man with violet eyes comes to the lab. They say he's the strongest ever and that's why he's the leader of Noxis. But, if he's the strongest, why is he trying to become even stronger by using the Progenitor?

"The recent failure is a setback, but at least a partial transference was achieved. If only Malakai hadn't been so wounded, perhaps..."

While he talks, Master Felix licks his fingertips a few more times and brushes them against his stubble. He does that a lot, too.

When Alfie is done cleaning, he puts everything away and sits in his place in the corner of the lab between the spinning machine and the computers. It's warm here. He curls into a ball, hoping Master Felix will not notice him for a while. Interrupting his stories would be a mistake. Alfie's attention shifts to one of the screens on the table in front of him. It's a big monitor showing cameras in different rooms. He sees something moving in the basement. In the room with the cages. They're empty now, so why would anybody be there? Nervous, he squints at the screen. More movement. Like shifting shadows. He glances at Master Felix. He can't interrupt him, but he's supposed to tell someone when he sees something strange. Alfie trembles, confused.

"Number Eight," Master Felix calls. Alfie holds his breath as he rushes over to the big black chair. Alfie hates that everybody calls him by his number here. In his mind, he holds onto his name. It's the only thing he can remember before he was brought here with the other kids and put in the cages.

"Y-Yes, Master?"

"Go to the basement and leave this list with Orla." He hands Alfie a laminated piece of paper with handwritten names on it. "After that, you are free to go to the kitchens and take a meal. If you are not back in one hour, it will be a mistake. Do you understand?"

Alfie nods. "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I won't make a mistake, Master."

"Get out of my sight."

Alfie runs out of the lab, tucking the piece of paper against his chest. Orla is the Floor Warden for the basement. Maybe he can tell her about the moving shadows on the camera. Maybe she'll be nicer to him if he tells her something that will make her look good in front of the Master. If he could just talk to her. But, she's so scary. She hates the kids, and she likes to hit Alfie with her cane. She knows how to hit without leaving bruises. Master Felix doesn't like Alfie to have bruises from anything except his slaps.

He makes it to the elevator and presses his thumb to the fingerprint reader. With a green flash and a ping, the double doors hiss open to let him inside. He chooses the basement floor and scans his thumb again. The screen flickers with some letters and a message, but Alfie can't read anyway so he ignores it. In seconds, the elevator takes him four floors down to the lowest place in the compound. When the doors open, Alfie steps out.

It's really dark and cold here. A lot colder than anywhere else in the lab. They have to keep it cold so the bodies don't rot, Master Felix says. Alfie smells the bittersweet stuff the other scientists use to keep dead things fresh longer. He can never remember the name for it; the word is too long. The smell is stronger than usual, which means the scientists must be doing something with the bodies. Maybe they're making more tarry stuff. Or maybe it has something to do with the "failure" Master Felix was talking about in his stories today.

Orla gives Alfie a glare when he walks timidly up to her office. She's an older woman with streaks of grey in her hair and ugly wrinkles. She's wearing the grey and indigo Noxis uniform. Her pants are creased at the backs of her knees from sitting all day and watching her monitors. He holds out the paper as he walks up to her, hoping she'll understand that he's here to run an errand.

"It's from Master Felix," he says. "I just have to give you this list and then I have to run."

Orla stands up and marches the rest of the way up to him; he can hear her heavy breathing. When she's close enough, she takes the paper then steps around and closes the door behind Alfie. He tries to stay calm. She likes it when he's scared, and she really likes it when he cries. If he can just avoid doing what she likes, she'll get bored and maybe let him go with just a few smacks on the backs of his knees with her cane. He hopes he can get this over with fast. Master Felix only gave him an hour, and Alfie didn't have dinner yesterday.

"Looks like Felix wants me to take you to the cages," Orla smiles after reading the paper, reminding him of a picture of a shark he saw once on one of the monitors on the TV in the kitchen. Alfie doesn't believe her, but he can't fight her if that's what she wants to do. She's a lot stronger, especially because Master Felix just put him in the tank last week. He still doesn't have all of his strength back.

"That's not what the Master said," Alfie frowns. "The Master said to give you the list and go to the kitchen."

"You talkin' back to me, kid?" Her cane comes down hard on his back. Alfie doesn't expect it and falls down. She hits him again, on the head this time. He raises his hands to shield himself, confused now and on the verge of tears. This isn't how this normally goes. She's never hit him this hard. Curling into a ball, he screams when she keeps hitting him. She's shouting something, yelling. The more she hits him, the sweatier she gets and the louder her breathing becomes.

And suddenly, the pain stops.

Her voice stops.

Still terrified, Alfie squints open his eyes and looks up above him. Orla has a weird look on her face, like a robot disconnected from its plug. Her face is kind of limp. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes are rolled back into her head. She wavers for a second before a fountain of blood spurts from her neck. Alfie screams as her head falls off her shoulders and onto the floor, bouncing and rolling towards him. Horrified, he scrambles backwards on all fours. When he opens his mouth to scream again, a hand wraps around his face.

"Shh. Don't shout, unless you want to end up like that hag."

"I'm s-sorry," Alfie whispers. "I made a mistake. Please don't hit me. Please don't put me in the tank. Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Calm down," another voice says.

Alfie realizes that he covered his face with his hands instinctively.

"Look at me," the same voice demands. The hand leaves his mouth. Someone shifts around him. Alfie moves his hands away, peeking up towards the voice. Two figures are standing above him dressed in all black. Their faces are covered with crow masks. The tips of the beaks are red like they've been dipped in blood. One of their hoods says "06" and the other says "07". Otherwise, he can't tell them apart.

"P-Please don't h-hurt me," Alfie whispers again.

"If you do what we ask, we won't," Six says.

"W-Who are you?" Alfie asks.

Six sits down next to him. "Tell me your name first."

"A-Alfie...I think. I can't remember because..." he stops there. Suddenly, he's wondering if this is another test from Master Felix. The Master is always testing him. They killed Orla, but she liked to disobey the Master and the rules. She liked to hit Alfie and make him cry. He's glad she's dead. He just wishes there wasn't so much blood. He really hates seeing blood.

"Everybody calls me Number Eight. That's who I am. I won't tell you anything," Alfie says, his bottom lip quivering. "I won't say anything. I have to go to the kitchen. Master said to go after I was done here. Please let me go."

Six looks at the headless corpse on the floor then at Alfie again. "We just killed your friend. Aren't you upset?"

"Orla wasn't my friend," Alfie insists. "She hit me and beat me. She was a bad worker. She broke the rules, and she deserved it."

Nobody ever listened to him when he complained anyway. They all just liked to hit him. If he complains to these people right now, it might be a mistake. He might end up in the tank. He has to show Master Felix that he's loyal. That he's special.

"What do you do around here, Alfie?" Six asks him. Seven stays silent, occasionally glancing towards the closed door. Six had said his name. Not Number Eight. His name. Maybe this means Alfie is doing well. Maybe this is a reward.

"I'm Master Felix's assistant. I help him."

"I see. And, do you like helping him?"

"Yes," Alfie answers without hesitation. "Master Felix is amazing. He's smart. He's merciful. He gave me a place. Made me special. A nobody like me can be helpful if I serve him."

"I see," Six sounds impressed. "You must be really important here. Are you the youngest?"

Alfie puffs up his chest. Nobody had ever told him he was important.

"I was before, but not now. The other kids that came with me and after me were put in the tank, so they're dead. They were weak. They weren't worthy of serving the Master."

Six nods. "The tank sounds like a scary place."

"It is," Alfie shivers. Six was really easy to talk to, and he didn't look like he was going to hit him. He liked this. Maybe he could talk to him just a little more. "It's really really scary. It's cold and there's the Progemator. I don't like him."

"Progenitor?" Six asks, correcting Alfie's pronunciation. "What's so scary about him? He's just a floating dead guy, isn't he?"

"No!" Alfie insists. Nobody's ever been this interested in Alfie before, and he doesn't want Six to think he's scared. "The Progemator isn't dead. He's alive, and he gets stronger when he takes our Evol."

"Oh, really?" Six sounds surprised. "Have you been in the tank with him?"

"Yes. Master Felix puts me there when I make a mistake. When I do something wrong. I deserve it, of course. It's all my fault. I deserve to be punished and have my Evol taken."

Seven comes over and sits next to Alfie, too. He crosses his arms over his chest, listening intently. Alfie can't help but feel proud. He's said only good things about Master Felix and the Monster. Only good things. That means he's passing the test, right?

"You sound like a brave young man," Seven says. "After all, you're such an important assistant and you've survived going into the tank."

Alfie's eyes sting with tears. This is the first time anybody's ever given him so many compliments. He hopes this test will go on just a little longer.

"Does that mean your Master trusts you to go anywhere here in the lab?"

"Yes, anywhere he needs me to go."

Seven reaches for Alfie's wrist. "Can I look at something?" he asks.

Alfie hates being touched, but if its for the test, he can be patient. He nods, and Seven gingerly takes hold of his forearm and pulls up his ratty sleeve. His mark is tattooed into his skin; the black ink looks as fresh as though it only happened yesterday. It's the number Eight.

Six and Seven look at each other. They don't say a word, but Alfie feels like they're talking to each other. After a minute, they shift to sit closer together and hold out their forearms to him.

"Wanna see something neat?" Six asks.

"I think you'll be surprised," Seven says.

Alfie hesitates. Is this the next part of the test? He nods, clasping his hands together nervously. In perfect unison, Six and Seven pull up their sleeves to show their wrists. Alfie gasps when he sees the same tattoos on their skin in the exact same place as his: the numbers six and seven.

"Alfie," Seven says, "how would you feel about a trade?"

"T-trade?"

"Yes. In return for taking us to see your Master, we'll take you home with us."

"Take me...to another lab?" Alfie holds his breath, not daring to hope.

"Take you home," Six says, his tone suddenly different than before. "No more labs."

"Away...from here?" Alfie whispers, his eyes going wide.

Seven nods. "Yes, that's right."

This is a test. This is Master Felix's test. Alfie has to stay strong. This is all a trick. The second he says 'yes' someone will come out and hit him. Master Felix will laugh and slap him then put him in the tank. Maybe forever.

"No," Alfie shakes his head. "No, I won't. I'm happy here. I belong here. Master Felix made me special."

A tear runs down Alfie's cheek despite his best efforts to hold it in. It's lies. It's all lies. If he could, he would run away from here. If only these people were real. If only this wasn't a test.

"You don't trust us?" Six asks him. "What reason do we have to lie to you?" He sounds sincere. He sounds real. Alfie takes a step towards him, digging his nails into his palms.

"If..." Alfie swallows past his fear. "If this isn't a test. If you're not with Master Felix. Then...you killed Orla...and you could kill me too."

"Believe me," Seven says to Alfie's left. "If we wanted to, you'd already be dead."

"But, you won't." Alfie frowns. This is how everybody is. They all want to use him or hit him or hurt him. "Until you're done with me."

Six chuckles. "Smart and special. I definitely want to keep him now, Kieran."

"He's not a puppy, Luke. Boss won't like it."

Luke and Kieran. Were those their names?

"Boss?" Alfie asks, suddenly curious. Did they have a Master, too? They had tattoos like him and a Master like him. But, they were so strong. And they weren't in a cage. Was their Master nice? Did he hit them, too?

Luke looks over to Alfie. "Yeah, our Boss. Strongest guy you'll ever meet."

"But I thought Malakai was the strongest. He's our leader."

Kieran snorts. "That chump is going to be fish food soon."

"Fish food?" Alfie doesn't understand.

"Yeah," Luke says. "Like getting thrown into a tank but in pieces."

"Your Boss is that strong?" Alfie asks, amazed. He can't imagine anybody stronger than Malakai. "Is he...nice? Does he hit you?"

Luke shakes his head. "Never. We get to play as much as we want as long as we do our work."

"Does he let you go to the kitchen?"

"As much as you want," Kieran says, his arms still crossed over his chest.

"But, what about the numbers? Aren't you his prisoners?"

"He took us from our prison," Luke says. "And gave us the strength to kill all those who hurt us."

Alfie takes a slow shaky breath. All who hurt him. Kill them? Kill Master Felix? Kill the guards that always stopped him and got him in trouble? Killing others was for the strong, and Alfie was weak. He'd imagined so many times what it might be like to hit Master Felix back. To hit the guards that abused him. To take Orla's cane and hit her over and over until she stopped moving. But, he'd always been too weak.

"I can't do that," Alfie mumbles.

"What, kill? You don't look like a softie to me, kid," Kieran says.

"I'm not strong enough."

"You don't have to be strong to fight for your life," Luke explains. "You don't have to be strong to give back an eye for an eye." He reaches out and puts a hand on Alfie's shoulder. "You just have to have one thing. The instinct to survive. Like any beast, really."

"That's all any of us are," Kieran concludes.

Alfie wrings his hands together. "Can you...or your Boss...can you teach me that?"

"We can," Luke assures him.

It was too good to be true. Too good. But, Alfie wanted to believe it so much.

"Then...then..."

"Do you want to trade now?" Kieran asks, sounding impatient.

"Yes," Alfie breathes, scared and excited all at once. "I want to leave here. I want to kill Master Felix. He hurts me. He treats me like dirt. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him." The last part comes out as a growl, and the walls around him shake with Alfie's anger.

Luke rubs his hands together. "Alright then, it's a deal."

Felix Blaze is a man of logic and action. His lab ebbs and flows in perfect order. Not a hair out of place. One might say he runs a tight ship. His direct reports don't dare to step a toe out of line. There are no terminations here. At least, not in the traditional sense. Young bloods come to work here to prove themselves to the organization, and one word from Felix is enough to either earn a promotion or earn a place among his cages of test subjects. It's a risk a surprising many are willing to take.

Felix has earned quite a reputation of success in his endeavors and assigned projects. He grew quickly in rank, and in just a few short years, he's taken A.R.C.A.N.E and Noxis to a whole new level. An accident -- something involving an introverted young bookworm working too hard for her own good and a tenth story ledge calling her name -- led Felix to a method of mass producing LUMINIS. With her notebook and knowledge in hand, he was a rising star among his toxic and quite envious collective. A figure of envy.

But, after flying so high, the brilliant scientist's fall is all the more painful. Malakai's failed operation just hours ago is a new stain on his record. While most of his colleagues had gone home for the night, Felix remains alone in his frigid, dark, lab. He sits at a desk, the only light a pulsing blue glow coming from the eight foot tank beside him. His hands move at blinding speed as he scribbles notes and observations in impeccable penmanship. Only Number Eight remains by his side, bringing him hot cups of coffee and carrying out menial tasks.

Foolish naïve little child. An unexpected bonus brought to Felix among a cartload of worthless bodies. He possesses an interesting Evol, one full of the potential to either destroy or to elevate the RE-Birth project. For that reason, Felix keeps him on a tight leash. A prisoner given the illusion of limited freedom. First, Felix had made sure to crush his mind and his spirit. Then, he ensured that he continued doing so. The child must never know his true worth or purpose.

Now if only the other factors of the project could line up as well. Lost in his own anger and frustration, Felix laments that no one is here to witness his heroic actions. If only Malakai could see him now, picking up the pieces after their recent set-back and planning for the next attempt. See how alone he is; how he's clearly the only worthwhile worker in this lab. Damn the other scientists. So what if they'd been working without rest for over 48 hours? They're on the verge of a breakthrough. Doesn't that mean anything to them? Unworthy rats. Not even fit to lick Malakai's boots. They would need to be dealt with soon; their incompetence cannot be tolerated. Every failed attempt puts Malakai's life at risk, puts the Progenitor at risk.

Intolerable.

Disgusting.

So furious his hands shake, Felix reaches up to lick his fingers and smooths them over his growing stubble.

The Master must be informed. There must be another purge of the staff. They can start over; build again. Bodies are plenty to push buttons and fill beakers. After all, it is he - Felix - that is the true mastermind and the brains behind it all. Only men of his caliber are fit to work at A.R.C.A.N.E. Men with ambition, fortitude, and a strong understanding of their role in the great machine that is Noxis.

Hands trembling, he writes up the last of his report. Compiling data for this last attempt isn't easy. Something had gone disastrously wrong. No. Disaster isn't a good word. A glitch. Yes, that's it. Just a glitch. They'd needed more bodies than usual. More of the Blood, too. And still -- still -- Malakai couldn't couple with the Progenitor. His leader had left frustrated and weakened, his Evol unchanged, his memories only partially transferred. If only Malakai hadn't been injured, they could have tried again. But, the wounds needed a Proto-bath treatment to heal.

Again, Felix reaches up, licks his fingers, and smooths them over his stubble.

If only the Specimen hadn't escaped over a year ago. The search for him had borne no fruit, and there were no more Lemurians readily available to pull from to replenish the Blood. At this rate, LUMINIS production would be compromised and the RE-Birth project will need to be put on hold. Unless, of course, Malakai made progress in obtaining a new resource.

The girl.

The Core.

With her, none of these things would be obstacles at all.

So, why did their leader hesitate? Why did he not capture her in this last encounter? A.R.C.A.N.E needed her so badly. No tissue, no cell, would be wasted. Every piece of her body would be put to good use. The Core to power the Progenitor. Her blood for LUMINIS. Skin and bones and organs for research and analysis. She would be reborn; they'd find her, capture her, and use her again. She was perfect. A timeless resource that would never run dry.

Setting aside his notebook, Felix picks up a clipboard and walks closer to the Progenitor's tank. A man floats within, his long black hair waving with the current, his violet eyes closed in repose. One of these days, Felix would see them open. Malakai will succeed in transferring his Evol and his memories to this new body, achieving true rebirth and reincarnation in a form that will be unstoppable. Noxis will rise like a phoenix from the ashes, and the vermin of Onychinus would fade into the shadows, never to be heard from again.

Of course, these are only Felix's ambitions. Malakai has much grander plans, including the slow and methodical elimination of his greatest rival - Sylus. Felix wants to see this, too. Wants the man with the red eyes to kneel before them all and beg for his life. Once, Felix had been a part of Onychinus. Once, he had been the greatest among the ranks of their scientists. Until Sylus had swept in and destroyed his research. All of his life's work pertaining to the Aether Core, gone in a single vicious night of flame and smoke.

Felix reaches up and smooths his moistened fingers across his stubble.

Revenge would be sweet.

And, what could be better than claiming Sylus's body for research and experimentation? A power like his had never been known or seen anywhere. A monster, some called him. Or, perhaps, a result of some machination by an unknown hand. Many feared the unknown, but Felix welcomed it. All mysteries could be solved, and monsters made for fruitful study.

A ringing. Felix's phone. Blinking at the flashing screen, he frowns when the caller ID looks glitched and fragmented. The metal in the walls tends to interfere with calls here. Concerned that it's a summons from Malakai, he picks up.

"Downstairs," a familiar voice says.

"Right away, Sir."

Felix grows worried. Had Malakai's wounds been worse than they'd thought? Was the Proto-bath not sufficient? Were more Protocores required? His breathing quickens as he gathers his things and makes his way outside with his briefcase in hand. Number Eight follows him like the obedient dog he is. On the way, Felix throws on his thick winter jacket. He exits the building with a swipe of his badge, stepping out into a flurry of falling snow. A pair of headlights nearly blind him, and he rushes around the car's front. Someone opens the door for him, and he slides inside. Number Eight follows suit.

"Sir, I --"

He stops. Two men sit before them dressed in all black identical clothes and armor. Their faces are hidden behind crow masks, but somehow even without seeing their expressions, Felix can tell they are smiling. They're wearing hoods with the numbers "06" and "07" printed on them. Recognition flares. His jaw clenches. He swallows past a lump of terror in his throat, for he's heard rumors of these men and what they do at Sylus's side. One of them takes a phone out of his pocket and taps the screen.

"Downstairs," the recording of Malakai's voice plays. "Downstairs...downstairs...downstairs..."

"For a smart guy, you sure fell for this trap way too easily," Seven says.

Felix lunges for the door handle, but he doesn't even make it an inch before one of the men seems to teleport to his side. A gloved hand wraps around Felix's wrist hard enough to break bone. He shouts in pain, but this only seems to amuse his captor.

"Now, now," Seven chides from above him. "You're our guest of honor. Just stay put, would you?"

The man across from him -- Six -- chimes in, "we're not in the mood to play right now."

Felix's eyes snap to Number Eight. Six is holding a glowing dagger to his throat. The boy's bright silver eyes are dead as always, devoid of any kind of human emotion. He doesn't look scared or concerned. In fact, he looks almost angry, an expression Felix has never seen on his face.

"Let me go," Felix demands. "I don't have anything you want. You can keep the kid." He gestures with his head towards Number Eight. "He knows more than I do."

Seven shakes his head, "Speak again without permission, and we'll start removing fingers."

Felix gasps at the threat, but doesn't dare to say anything else.

"Now, if you're a good boy and you answer our questions, we might be merciful and kill you quicker."

"That's not much fun, though, is it?" Six sighs. "And who's this extra?" He shakes Number Eight, but the boy doesn't say a word. Strange. For as long as Felix has known him, the boy was terrified of his own shadow. He'd capitalized on that; had made sure to make his fears much worse. He should be shivering and shaking now, especially with a knife at his throat.

"Looks like a cute little assistant," Six snickers. "I guess he's a freebie, so I can do whatever I want, right?"

"Boss said we could do whatever as long as the scientist squawked." Seven shrugs. "No mention of the kid, so he's bonus loot."

"Let's take them to the cell," Six whines. "I wanna try out my new kit."

"He needs his tongue to talk," Seven counters.

Felix's body starts to shake in terror.

"Oh, look, he's scared," Seven chuckles, leaning forward until the sharp beak of his mask is nearly touching Felix's face. His voice drops to a low thundering threat. "Is the big bad scientist going to pee his pants?"

"You better not. These are leather seats," Six says.

Felix bites his lip, tasting blood. "W-What...do you want with me?"

The second man's mask tilts down. "Well, those documents in your bag are a good start. But, mostly, we need you to tell us where Malakai is and everything you know about that half frozen clone of his that you've been growing in your lab."

Felix starts to say something when an armored fist flies out of nowhere and punches him in the face. He goes down like a bag of rocks, coughing and sputtering as his vision spins.

"Rule one," Seven says, "no lying."

"Didn't...lie..." Felix coughs.

"You were about to. I can sense that a mile away, you know."

Number Eight whispers something. Felix balks when Six moves the dagger away from his neck and leans down towards him.

"What was that, Alfie?"

"Slap him," the child answers. His silver eyes gleam in the low light. "He made a mistake. Slap him."

"You're right," Seven says then turns and slaps Felix's face. The impact is so severe that Felix thinks he might have broken his jaw. He coughs and sputters past the pain and dizziness, spitting out a mouthful of blood along with a tooth.

"You...little freak..." Felix hisses, glaring at the child. "It was you that led them here?"

How? How was this possible? Betrayal from the child? Felix had done everything by the book. He'd been certain that he'd broken this boy long ago. Yet the silver eyes looking back at him now weren't the same ones he was used to seeing. Had these two men done something to him? Had they influenced him somehow? If so, when? This wasn't something that could have just happened on a whim.

"Careful, Master Felix," Number Eight says, his face and eyes still dead as rotting pond water. "Don't speak without permission."

Felix flinches back. Six knocks on the pane of glass separating the passengers and driver. The car takes off, and Felix struggles to get his emotions and fears under control. No matter what happens to him here, he cannot give them any information about Malakai and his plans. He glares at the twins, then at Number Eight.

"I think we've got a true loyal pawn here," Seven says. "He looks determined."

"Loyal till we really get started," Six shrugs.

Seven grabs Felix by his collar and pulls him forward. "Hey, just so you know, I want you to fight me. I've been bored lately, and I could use some human dissection to get my mind right again."

A phone rings somewhere behind Felix. Six reaches across the seat and picks up the phone.

"Yeah, Boss, we got him. We're on our way now."

A deep voice says something Felix can't make out.

"Understood, Boss."

When he hangs up, Seven speaks up. "So? What's the Boss-man want?"

"We can't kill him 'till the Boss gets a turn with him," Six practically pouts.

"So as long as we leave his eyeballs in tact, we can do whatever?"

"That was my understanding."

Both men turn to look at Felix, and he comes close to soiling himself despite the earlier warning. All of his earlier bravado vanishes, shrinking and withering like a slug in saltwater. They're taking him to Sylus, and they're planning on torturing him. No amount of fortitude or sanity will be enough to survive that.

"P-Please...I take it back...I'll tell you anything you want."

The twins both laugh in unison. "Oh, you will," they say simultaneously. "But we'll have some fun first."

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylusposting #sylus/mc #sylus #eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace fanfic #lnds #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

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Eyes of Infinity: The Photo Session WIP 3

WIP 3! Adding more glam and splendor!

Please DO NOT REPOST without original link! Thank you!

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus #lnds #lnds sylus #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x mc #love and deepspace rafayel #loveanddeepspace

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

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Eyes of Infinity: The Photo Session WIP 2

WIP progress part 2! I know...I wasn't supposed to keep going with this picture, but my basement flooded last night and I'm stuck at home and my tablet was calling me...

Seriously, though...Guys, what happened here?? Suddenly this went from a sexy 3-some drama/romance cover pose to a full blown Glint Photo Session! MC went full glam!

(I guess she was jealous because of Rafayel's fabulous hair so she made me work half a day for her hair too)

Rafayel is secretly fuming about WHY she has a Mephy sticker on her phone. Sylus looks SMUG AF when Rafayel whines about this. MC blushes and doesn't know what to say >_>

Calm down, my soulmate fishie. Sylus is NOT the favorite, I swear!

If only I could draw chibi's so I could make a cute little comic about them fighting to take this selfie!

Please DO NOT REPOST without original link, thank you!!

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus #lnds #lnds sylus #lnd rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel #lnds rafayel

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

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Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/149000791#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7

"You should know that I adore you," Sylus murmurs, the red in his eyes languid and his voice a tender caress. "There is no love purer than mine."

In the wake of the words, I'm left stupefied.

I could have expected a whole nebula of variations to how he perceived our current -- whatever this was -- but...love?

My heart lurches in my chest. Sylus's answer matches my deepest darkest yearning, but I hesitate. I grab his forearms and pull him closer. My hands settle on his cheeks, and I search his face. He looks back at me without a mask or filter. His gaze remains soft and open, his lips tipped up in a gentle smile.

"Sylus," I breathe slowly, "how can you say something like that so easily?"

"Speaking truth is never difficult," he huffs.

I reach down and pinch myself, suddenly wondering if I've passed out in the mansion somewhere and have indulged too much in dreams. It hurts, which means I'm here and this is as real as real gets. I think.

"Is there a reason I should hide it?"

Only a few! The primary one being that he is the Sylus of N109. Isn't he concerned that admitting something like this is going to make things much more dangerous for him? That caring for someone might make him vulnerable? Again, I search his face. And again, I see no hesitation. I realize, then, that he is truly, absolutely, unequivocally unafraid. I stare at him in wonder. Truly, I have never known anyone like him. A man who is not afraid of anything. A man with enough power to shape his own reality.

When I don't answer his question, he takes his turn to search my face -- maybe even my thoughts -- with those hyper-perceptive eyes and intellect. Apparently, his rummaging yields more than mine. He raises a brow.

"Why so anxious? Don't worry. I'm not in the mood to reveal our relationship to anyone anytime soon."

Relationship. Adoration. Love. The words repeat in my head over and over, but they might as well be in a foreign language. I stare at him like he's grown another head. Of course, it's not so terribly far fetched that he might care for me after the closeness we've shared, but how? Why? When did this happen? How did all of this go from some crazy sex in a hotel to the start of an entanglement? Still reeling, I give Sylus a critical look. Is this man even capable of having a normal bond with someone? What does normal even mean for him, and do our definitions of the word match up?

This is a man who sits on the throne of N109, owns a jet, a yacht, and an armory bigger than the Association's. I've seen him go to shootouts for breakfast then stop by a café for brunch. He's overthrown other rulers. His organization is at the heart of all of the most controversial, dangerous, and unethical research I have ever heard or read about. He's blown up buildings and torn down mountains of organized crime. He's quite possibly the most powerful and most unpredictable man I'll ever meet in my lifetime.

Yet he's telling me he loves me.

And that we're in a relationship.

I'm silent as I try to gather the scattered marbles of my thoughts back into their jar. All the while, Sylus doesn't say a word. He doesn't rush me or press me for an answer. When his cell phone rings, he picks it up and steps some distance away, giving me the space I need to figure out where exactly I stand in all of this. Somehow, I don't think that will happen quickly or easily. We've just met. I hardly know him. There are times he terrifies me, and there are times when I can't breathe around him. I've learned nothing of his past or who he really is. I know even less about his powers and their true nature. I don't know why he wanted to Resonate with me so much in the beginning. I don't know why he's taken such an interest in me, either.

He's a complete enigma.

But, you love him.

And suddenly, I know that I do.

Absolutely. Unequivocally.

Denying it would be pointless.

My heart as heavy as a sinking anchor, I look at his rugged profile as he speaks over the phone. Straightening my legs, I hop off the bike and start walking towards him, dragging that same heart on my sleeve right behind me. As I do, snow begins to fall from the sky above. It settles in his silver hair and dusts his jacket. His voice drifts to me on the wind. Familiar now, like a favorite cup of hot chocolate on a freezing winter night. The hue of his eyes shimmers in the flickering of the metropolis around us, and I finally admit that his eyes are the most beautiful crimson that I've ever seen.

I admit that adore him, too.

His arrogance, his confidence, his gentleness, and -- yes -- even his controlled savagery.

I clutch at the jacket over my heart.

When did this happen?

How did this happen?

At last, my journey ends at his side. With a click, Sylus hangs up his call. I reach out my hand to him as he turns to face me. He glances at my outstretched hand then at me.

"What is it?" he asks, reaching out to join our hands together.

The moment I feel his palm against mine, I thread our fingers and yank him forward towards me. His eyes widen, but he lets me pull on him. He even stumbles. This King, who trusts no one and can cause devastation with the snap of his fingers, let's me do as I please.

Mildly overwhelmed, I brush strands of snow-dusted hair from his temple. With my other hand, I reach up and touch his cheek, my thumb stroking from right to left along his parted lips. That devilish mouth quirks up into an impish smirk. But, I'm not done yet. I want to keep touching him. Feathery soft, my hand smoothes against his chin. He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch as if it's the most pleasurable thing in this world. My heart thunders in my ears, faster and faster. Adoration, was it? Yes. That's what this feels like.

Reverently touching something I fear will vanish if I take too long to blink.

It's easy for him to disappear. So far, he's reappeared right at my side every time, but will it always be so? Or will he one day turn to mist and never come to me again? My jaw clenches tight. I let the fear surge through me and don't shy away from it this time. It's par for course, I suppose. A natural part of loving and adoring this man.

And I'm too far gone to go back now.

The moment I stop struggling against the shackles of this feeling, something shifts between us. It's like he senses it. Knows that I've finally given in. The corner of his mouth twitches and he grabs my wrist. With his eyes still alight with mirth and levity, he brings my hand to his mouth and softly bites my palm. I shiver, electricity bursting from my wrist to my shoulder. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses it and says "So? Have you and your pride come to a consensus?"

"We have," I humor him.

"And what's the verdict?" He pulls me forward this time by our joined hands, and I fall into his arms. "If it has anything to do with me letting you escape, you're out of luck. Whatever I hold in my hand is mine, sweetie. That includes you."

Our lips meet in a fevered kiss, and as the snow falls around us, I surrender to his passion. Escape is the last thing on my mind. My fear lingers in the ambience. Something as wonderful as this can't be destined for destruction, can it? I've seen enough darkness and tragedy in my life. Surely, it's time to see some happiness. If I have to fight for it -- if I have to bleed for it -- then I will. It's as simple as that. No other option exists because there is no way in hell that I will let this man disappear to a place that I can't follow.

We break away, and I wrap my arms around his waist. "I love you," I tell him, the words turning into white mist along with my breath. "It's completely insane. We haven't even gone on a date."

"If you want to do something mundane, we can," Sylus says, chuckling when I give him a frustrated glare. He hugs me just a little tighter. "But first, you need to go back to the light and recover. Heal. You can't do that here in the darkness."

"Is that why you're sending me away?" I pout.

He tilts his head. "Servants and fools are sent away. You are neither."

"Then, I want to stay."

"No."

I pull back, my hands sliding to my hips. "Sylus."

"Ellara."

We stare each other down.

"I can help you," I insist. "I know I'm not as strong as you, but I'm far from useless in a fight. My Resonance can help."

Something about that particular phrase triggers his impatience. He frowns and rubs a spot between his brows with a sigh.

"Go home with your knight, Ellara. Lick your wounds. Fight your Wanderers. Stay away from all this."

He starts to turn his back to me, and my anger flares. I grab a handful of his jacket and pull as hard as I can. "Don't you dismiss me like I'm one of your underlings," I growl at him. "If I want to stay, I damn well will."

When I turn him around, my temper loses its steam. The look on his face stops me in my tracks. It's not anger. Or frustration. It's something more, but I can't quite--

"I almost lost you," he murmurs, his fingers falling to my shoulder like the snow, gliding across my jacket and settling on my arm. "I don't...ever..." A muscle clenches in his jaw, and he stops speaking. His phone rings again, the sound breaking me out of my trance. He takes the call, leaving me to stew in a mess of emotions.

"Boss, he's here," a familiar voice says. Kieran?

"Early, as expected," Sylus nods. His tone is all business again, his eyes empty.

"He ripped through the first two waves in a single go. You sure he's got a Limiter?"

"Send in the Altered units."

"How many, Boss-man?" a more muffled voice asks. Luke this time.

"All of them."

"Yes, Boss."

"If that doesn't push him, we'll have to take more drastic measures." Those empty eyes slide to me. Inadvertently, I take a step back, realizing that they must be talking about Xavier. "We'll be there soon. Keep him busy until we arrive."

The Lost Isles in Sector 354XF-N1 is a place lost to time. Even with the overpopulation in N109, this ten or so acres of wasteland is as barren as a desert. Only blackened rusty ruins remain after a series of particularly nasty Metaflux storms and Wanderer attacks. In the center stands the skeleton of a sprawling research facility, now twisted into a hideous sculpture of shattered glass, mold, dust, and filth.

Once, a massive lab stood here, a radiant beacon of success and progressive thinking. At least, on the outside. Within, Ever Group hoarded some of its deadliest projects. After it was destroyed in the storms, a cloud of toxins and chemical waste spilled forth, killing hundreds and turning the others into monsters and Abominations. The trees died; the rivers dried up, and the soil was poisoned for the foreseeable future.

No human could live here, and after the tragedy that befell the citizens of this place, no one wanted to try.

It's the perfect kind of place to stage a battle without collateral damage.

Nearly a week past, the Boss had given clear direction. Take the samples of LUMINIS currently in the Vault, go to the Lost Isles, and attract all the Wanderers possible to these coordinates. Prepare the Altered Wanderer units as backup. Then, do anything and everything to push the Target to his limits. Pain, mutilation, mind-breaking illusions -- anything was fair game except taking his life. As long as the twins could break his Limiter, the means and methods are up to their discretion.

This night, Kieran and Luke thrill at the prospect. It's been ages, it seems, since the Boss let them loose. Thus far, the instructions are not a challenge to follow.

LUMINIS.

Truly, it's a wondrous concoction.

When Kieran takes the onyx vial out of its long glass case and pours it on the ground in the Lost Isles in various places and altitudes, he roughly knows what to expect.

Don't touch it, first and foremost.

Second, each location it is used in will summon a Dominante level or above Wanderer. Keep spraying and eventually the Metaflux build-up will summon Subservants to go with it. In a few hours, the place will be teaming with Wanderers and Abominations. Eventually, a Protofield will generate and dump the whole area into an even larger shell of chaos. It will take the Target all of his skill to escape.

Kieran was thorough, if nothing else. After using three full philters of LUMINIS and saturating the Lost Isles with the toxin, he jumps to the tallest ruin of a radio tower and watches the proceedings from above. Luke joins him shortly, having completed his own task. They lean against each other as Mephisto comes flying out of the darkness.

"It's done, Boss," Luke tells the crow. Their target will arrive soon, and the entertainment will begin. "Your hands are clean, right?" Luke asks his twin.

Kieran holds them up. "They are. But, I'm kinda curious what it feels like."

"You're demented," Luke chuckles, though Kieran senses he is curious as well. "You saw what it can do," he reminds his twin. Kieran nods. He still remembers that girl and her screaming in the shower with the Boss. The stuff had spilled all over her, slipping past the skin and snaking into her nerves and Evol channels. Miracle she wasn't dead, really, though she'd screamed loud enough to make him think she'd surely kick the bucket.

Poor naïve little bird trapped in a golden cage. Does she know yet that her Evol has been paralyzed? Does she know she might never Resonate again? Has the Boss told her?

"If a weak little thing like her can survive that much of it, then..." Luke plays with a philter, popping open the lid. Kieran catches his wrist to stop him.

"Not now, Luke. After we're done here."

They don't have to loiter long in boredom. The Target shows up several hours earlier than instructed just in time for the LUMINIS to start taking effect. The ground shakes as though multiple earthquakes are happening simultaneously. Roars, growls, and unearthly shrieks fill the air. Wanderers of all shapes and sizes materialize from thin air, their glowing red eyes hungering for blood. Some amble around on two legs, some on four. Some have arms. Others have webbing, fins, or claws. Each glows with its own aura from its Protocore, illuminating the viscous darkness ever present in the N109. But, none can compare to the moment when the Target reaches his destination and unleashes his own golden brilliance.

With flashes, arcs, and spectacular bursts of light more blinding than the sun, the Target eliminates his enemies. The more he cuts down, the more appear. The farther he moves into the bowels of the Lost Isles, the more he is surrounded by monsters. Yet, he is undaunted. He breaks through all the ranks, laying waste to Dominantes as though they are nothing but the weakest obstacle. Over the phone, the Boss instructs to release the Altered, and Luke and Kieran have no choice but to obey. They unleash the experimental units, and it seems that all hell breaks loose. The Altered have no concept of hierarchy. They do not see themselves as Subservants or Dominantes. They only yearn to watch the world burn and to feast on all the lives they encounter along their path.

There's four. No, five, if Luke counts the newest unit the Boss recently acquired. They amble towards the light like moths, sensing the Target's powerful Evol and moaning in hunger. Luke and Kieran watch their progress eagerly, curious to see how this powerful Hunter will fare against these engineered abominations. The Limiter is glowing red around his neck, but he isn't desperate enough. Not yet.

Behind them, the air explodes with heat and Evol as the Boss appears with the girl by his side. Luke notes her pallor and the way she still favors her right leg over her left. The way she moves her left arm is awkward still. He recalls how she worried for him, the experience still mystifying him entirely.

"Report," the Boss demands.

"He can still be pushed," Kieran says. "The Limiter is activated, but not broken."

"Sylus," the girl says, growing even paler as she walks to the edge of the building. "Why are you doing this to him?" She turns an angry glare to the Boss. "Please, let him go."

"He is free to come or go," the Boss grins. "Nothing is holding him here."

"Does he know where I am?" she cuts in. When she's about to say something else, the building rumbles beneath them.

"The Altered have reached the Target," Luke observes. The battle below explodes in light and Metaflux. The Target jumps from one Wanderer to the next, executing a flurry of blinding slashes, cuts, and twists. Stabbing, knifing, burning, eviscerating. He moves with the same speed as the Boss; when he needs to dodge or ambush, he shifts his body to different locations using his Evol. The Altered howl and throw blast after blast of Metaflux towards him. He flickers past every single one. Using a lull to his advantage, he runs up the side of one of their massive bodies and rams his blade into its head. With a haunting cry of fury which echoes through the ruins, the first Altered falls to the Target's skill.

"Altered?" the girl's eyes grow wide in her small face. She reminds Kieran of an owl like this. "Not the thing you had me try to fight when we first met..." She turns to the Boss. "Sylus, please stop this."

The Boss remains stoic. "No, Ellara. That collar must break."

The second Altered falls. Then the third and fourth. The fifth puts up the biggest fight and causes the most destruction. With its deadly breath of fire, it sets everything around ablaze like a spray of napalm. Ruins burn and boil in the flames. Glass squeals and melts. And still, the Target fights on without stopping. He parries the monster's clumsy swings and jumps over the fireballs flying from its maw. As soon as he can manage it, the Target lunges forward and summons a long spear made of light. With a mighty swing, he stabs it into the monster's heart.

Luke steadies the girl when the building shakes again. Kieran tilts his head at his twin, struggling to understand why he would do so without explicit orders. His attention is quickly diverted, though, when a series of deafening explosions blast through several blocks below. Ruins of buildings and homes collapse into rubble as colossal fulminations of light blind all of them. Luke, Kieran, the girl, and even the Boss have to shield their eyes as the darkness of the N109 is burned away momentarily.

Silence.

And then a voice followed by a razor sharp blade at Kieran's throat.

"Move," is the low decree, given in a voice that hardly sounds human.

Kieran opens his eyes to see the Target standing before him and Luke, his blade a whisper from slitting open flesh. Golden hair spills over glowing bright blue eyes. The Target is wearing a pitch black Hunter's uniform. Around his neck, the Limiter is cracked and shuddering, flickering with red and blue light. A beat, and then the collar shatters, falling to pieces with a dying gasp.

"Xavier!" the girl calls, her voice filled to the brim with relief.

"I won't ask again," the Target threatens.

"Let him through," the Boss commands. With that, Luke and Kieran's chains are lifted. They move aside, allowing the Target to pass by them.

The girl limps towards her Knight. When she is close enough, he pulls her against him, cradling her head with his hand as he embraces her. Blood blooms on his sleeve and around his waist. There's a large spot of it on his back. His clothes are tattered and singed; even some of his golden hair is covered in red. Yet his balance and posture are unaffected. He stands firm.

"Xavier, are you alright? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry."

When he pulls back to look at her, the Target's face has changed. The madness has receeded, along with his murderous intent. His bright eyes take in her body, checking for injuries or damage. When he's satisfied, he guides her to stand behind him and raises his blade. Immediately, Luke and Kieran prepare for combat. It's the girl's voice that stops them from lunging.

"Wait! Sylus, please...this is enough."

The Boss stands still, his eyes observing the girl and the Target. He isn't pleased. There's a shadow looming over his expression, and the air around him drops in temperature.

"Take her and get out," he says with razor sharp finality. "Before I change my mind."

"Wait, what?" the girl starts to protest, but the Target cuts her off. He lifts her into his arms even as she struggles. "Wait, Sylus!"

A final azure glare at the Boss with eyes that promise death before -- in a single blinding flash -- both the girl and the Target vanish into the night.

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148839892#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6

It's dark in the N109.

Always.

Even though the windows in the mansion have no curtains, the only lights here are false ones. No matter what hour of the day it is, only the warm amber lamplight illuminates the rooms around me. The city lights from outside peek through the glass here and there, flashing red, green, or a frigid blue.

It's always cold in the mansion; it's how Sylus prefers it. Not surprising, really, considering how his body always feels as hot as a simmering furnace. Unlike me. I'm always freezing, it seems, and I definitely prefer a warmer setting.

Wandering around in this falsely lit, cold, and absolutely silent home makes me feel like I am trapped in some kind of bunker during an apocalypse. I miss going on missions in the city. I miss the warmth and humidity of the afternoon haze in Linkon. I miss the sun and the fresh air. I miss waking to my alarm in the morning, and I miss the raucous sounds of city life.

On my fourth day here, I start to lose the concept of night and day, and my body begins to protest the maltreatment. I'm still recovering from my injuries, and that makes it worse. Exhaustion finds me at the most unpredictable times. I start falling asleep while standing, sitting, even talking. A few times, Luke and Kieran - now acting as my escorts around the mansion - have to prop me up to keep me from falling over. This lasts most of the day. I float in and out of awareness, limping from room to room and dozing in-between.

I wake from one such nap when I hear motion upstairs and wonder if Sylus is up and about. I check the phone he gave me for the time.

1:14 PM

While I wait for him to come down, I stop by the dining room to pick at the table of food there. Though I've never seen anyone in the mansion other than Luke and Kieran, somehow the food and drink here is always replenished and fresh. Once, Sylus hinted at there being a chef on the payroll, but thus far I haven't met anyone else who works here. Another mystery that gives this mansion a kind of haunted vibe.

Eventually, Sylus emerges from his bedroom and approaches me wearing his full leather riding gear. My eyes rove over the knee high black boots, stylish jacket, and half gloves. He looks incredible, and I can't help but appreciate the way these clothes accent his broad shoulders, slim waist, and exquisite ass. He notices me looking of course, and I quickly look away with my ears on fire.

"Good morning," I say even though it's the middle of the day. He grabs a plate and drops a few tasty looking items onto it. We sit down to eat together, neither one of us speaking for a time. It's a pleasant, companionable, silence in which I try to reconcile why I am feeling so anxious about Xavier coming to pick me up tonight.

In the end, I must be honest and admit that I don't want to leave yet. But, I have to. The investigation must continue. We must stop Noxis and find an antidote for LUMINIS. Not to mention, I'm still a Hunter. I have duties I must fulfill to protect Linkon. I'd left the city to attend a symposium and disappeared. I needed to report to Captain Jenna, maybe even come clean about what Xavier and I had been up to for the last several months.

Just when I start worrying about how I'm going to accomplish all of this, a large gloved hand appears in my line of vision.

"Come for a joy ride with me," Sylus says, his expression unreadable. I take his hand, letting him pull me up out of my chair.

"Where?" I ask, rubbing at my eyes. Damn it, the exhaustion is about to hit me again.

"Does it matter?"

Not really. I'd go anywhere if it's with him. Especially when he asks me anything while the corners of his eyes crinkle into a special kind of smile I've only seen him direct my way.

"I'd love to go, but I'm not exactly dressed for it." I point to my sweats - or his, rather. "And I'm pretty tired. Not sure how I'll manage to hang onto you."

Sylus tilts his head, running his hand over the bandages on my shoulder and arm. He tilts up my chin. "You look pale," he observes.

I can't reconcile a Sylus that's actually worried about me. It's too surreal. But, his frown during these moments speaks for itself. No matter how naïve I might be, there's no way I'm misreading his intent.

"But, you'll be fine," he ruffles the hair at the top of my head, careful not to touch my wound. "Just cling to me like you did yesterday." His voice drops, and he leans in to murmur in my ear. "Use your thighs. You remember how that felt, right?"

I take a few steps back, my whole face catching fire. His words bring on flashbacks that I've been trying to keep at bay for a while.

"But, I'm still not dressed for it."

He runs his hand through his hair with a smirk then holds it out to me again. Still sheepish, I take it. As we walk upstairs, I ask about Xavier and how he plans to have him pick me up. As frequently happens, Sylus doesn't answer me. By the time I'm ready to pinch him in frustration, we make it to his bedroom. An organized grouping of dark red boxes and unmarked paper bags rest on the floor in front of the bed.

Sylus gestures for me to go to them. As I step in that direction, he settles comfortably on the leather armchair in front of his work desk, crossing one leg over the other. Mephisto, who's been sleeping on his perch, caws and flutters to his master's shoulder. Sylus rests one elbow on the chair and looks at me expectantly. Confused, I look towards the boxes and begin opening them one by one.

Shirts, pants, winter gear, boots, guns, a belt and holster, a large gray duffel bag, and...I can't help but gasp when I open the final box.

"Oh," I breathe, completely taken aback. It's a black floor length silk dress with crisscrossing straps and a thick elegant skirt. On the front is a stitching of the night sky. Stars and planets twinkle up at me in the form of precious gems - diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Below the stars, a shimmering river flows off into a distant horizon. It's quite possibly the most beautiful dress I've ever seen.

I glance at Sylus. His eyes are intent, expectant.

"Try it on," he says.

"Now?"

His silence is confirmation of his wishes. When I hesitate, he smiles behind his hand. "Do you need me to help you?"

I straighten my shoulders, carefully putting the dress back in the box. "I thought you wanted to go for a ride."

He chuckles then stands up. I resist backing up as he approaches me, his hands in his pockets. "Raincheck," he teases, stopping right in front of me.

I nod.

"Go get ready, then. Don't keep me waiting."

Picking up one of the boxes, I rush to sidestep around Sylus and go into the bathroom. Though I know it's absolutely pointless to do so, I lock the door. Once inside, I lean on the sink and take a deep breath. After calming my racing heart, I start getting dressed. I pull on some black leather pants and a thick knitted top. Over it, I don a warm leather jacket. My hair is a royal mess, so I borrow one of Sylus's combs to tame it into a single braid.

By the time I'm finished, the exhaustion is hitting me again. I sit down to put on a pair of boots, hoping the dizziness will pass soon.

Someone calls my name.

The next thing I know I'm waking up. I'm still sitting on the bench in the bathroom, but Sylus is now kneeling in front of me, stroking the side of my face. His lovely mouth is marred with a frown.

"Oh, sorry," I mumble. "I didn't mean to doze off."

He helps me to my feet, steadying me when I stumble.

"The darkness can be difficult to get used to for some," he says. "Ready to go?"

I nod, and we make our way to the front door. It occurs to me that I'd never stepped outside of the mansion. Somehow, I'd never been curious to see where we actually were. I let Sylus lead me down an expansive concrete driveway to where his bike awaits. My eyes go wide when I recognize the vehicle.

"Is that...?"

Sylus raises a brow at the surprise in my voice.

"It's not a 380HM...no way..."

A Hunter bike. Not just that, but a prototype model that not even UNICORNS could afford to equip their Hunters with.

Sylus huffs. "Don't lump me in with such low class mediocrity."

I don't question that statement, but excitement buzzes through me. I've driven a Hunter bike once or twice, and it was a thrilling experience. If this is something even more advanced, I can't wait to experience it, especially since I trust that Sylus is more than capable of handling it as a driver.

I smile when he hands me an onyx helmet. I mount up behind him, and as I try to figure out the best way to hang onto him without aggravating my injuries, his dark Evol wraps around my back, my knees, and my torso. I gasp when it presses me against him. It's as though something is tying us together.

"Don't worry, kitten, I won't let you fall," comes his promise, much clearer than I expect. The helmets are radio linked so we can hear each other without issue. Experimentally, I try to relax. Even when I'm not putting much strength into holding on, his Evol keeps me steady. I lean against him, then, releasing all my anxieties from earlier. We have mere hours left together, and I want to enjoy every minute I have.

The bike roars to life beneath us and Sylus guns it into overdrive without preamble. In a single breath, we are skyrocketing through the darkness at a speed I can barely process. Lights blur into multi-colored streaks as we soar down the highway. I feel every rise and fall - every thrill, every twist and turn - without fear, knowing that Sylus's Evol holds me firmly in place. I let his body heat melt into me, relishing the feeling of gliding through the wind like a fledgling hawk learning to fly.

We wing past skyscrapers of every shape and size, ascending higher and higher up a natural slope until we reach a bald hill. We skid to a stop, and as we take off our helmets I smell burned rubber. A massive radio tower spears into the ground before us, extending high into the sky well above the clouds. It's seen better decades. It's body is worn and tired, the metal eroded after years of weathering Metaflux storms.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Just a good view." He gestures around us to the panorama. The Underworld, a city with no sunlight and no moonlight.

On this hill, we sit like eagles perched above the sprawling buildings and towers of N109. In this endless night, the glass and polymer looks like a myriad of shining mirrors, reflecting a world that's a kaleidoscope of colors. Signs, brands, and advertisements compete for real estate and blaze against the shadows, so bright they give off their own blinding aura. A few high tech nightclubs flash and rave among the rooftops, the illuminated canopies above them blinking in time with booming melodies. Silhouettes of people ebb and flow behind the tinted windows. The conflicting rhythm of the music pulses against the silence of the streets, a heartbeat of this lonely and frozen cityscape.

Sylus observes all this with an aloof and ruthless gaze, ever searching, ever calculating. His breathtaking silver hair reflects the ever changing colors of the city. A King examining his domain. He'd brought me here for the view, but there is no enjoyment in his eyes. They dart from building to building, his pupils narrowed as though he can see through all the glass to the happenings behind the walls. Rooting out all secrets, all dealings that would seek to take power from him.

It's a degree of control I can't fathom. It seems harsh to be at the top of all this. Lonely.

I call his name without meaning to.

When he turns to look at me, his pupils dilate again and his expression softens. It's a surreal transformation I can hardly comprehend. We don't speak, but a wealth of something passes between us as we stare into each other's eyes. I reach out to him, and he helps me turn to hop off the motorcycle. His hands grasp my waist, and he lifts me up. His forearm settles under me, holding me up and in place so my face is above his.

There's so much that I want to say, but no words come. I press my hand to the side of his face, moving some strands of his hair away from his cheeks. At last, the line of his lips softens into his special smile.

"If I asked you to stay out of the dealings with Noxis, would you?"

I take a deep steadying breath. "I can't."

"Then make me a promise."

I nod, and the wings of his brows lower over hard ruby orbs.

"Prioritize your vengeance. Show no mercy. You're not fighting Wanderers. These are humans, and the depth of human cruelty is immeasurable."

"I'm not a killer," I whisper.

"You are. Everyone is. Whether you admit it or not." The lights around us shift and churn, lighting up his eyes. They seem to glow as he speaks, and goosebumps break out all over my arms and shoulders. "It's simple. When someone would take from you, you must take double. When someone would betray you, you rip their treachery out at the root."

"I understand that's how it is here, but in Linkon it's--"

"Different?" He makes a sound of bitter amusement. "No, sweetie. A little sunshine doesn't change human nature. The monsters just wear masks."

I shudder at his words.

"When someone shoots at you, you shoot them in the head. Not the arm. When someone tries to capture you, you break their neck. Not their leg." His free hand twines into the hair at my nape, fingers squeezing until he has a firm grip. "Do you understand, Ellara?"

"Yes."

I can't promise to be ruthless. I've never had to be. But, the message is clear. This is no longer just an investigation or a side project. The night at the Mythe made it clear that these people weren't playing around. If I don't take a stronger stance, I'm going to lose my life. And if there's something I realized as I was writhing in pain and agony from the LUMINIS, it's that I don't want to die.

I must be stronger. I must be more clever. I can't continue being reckless.

Sylus lets my body slide down to the ground, but he doesn't let go of me when I'm standing. He looks down at me from above, his expression once again a complete mystery. My arms wrap around his waist underneath his leather jacket. It's like slipping into a hot bath. Biting the corner of my lower lip, I tug him down towards me.

Our lips meet and meld, our tongues reuniting soon after. Pleasure zings through my nerve endings as he tugs on my hair to deepen our kiss. His tongue circles and circles then pushes, deeper and deeper. I can't breathe, and I don't care. He can take my last breath if that's what he wants. As long as he keeps touching me, caressing me, driving me to new heights of bliss.

We hit a single wavelength both in mind and body. As he pulls me back up against him, my legs wrap around his waist. He gives a growl of approval and draws my bottom lip into his mouth. I graze my teeth against his tongue as his hips thrust against me. He rests my butt up on the bike seat so his hands are free to lift up my top.

We're all alone now on this abandoned hill. The world, the lights, the sounds all fall away as I drown in this man. I gasp his name when he grinds against me. He laughs against my skin, pressing a kiss against my breast. Our joining is far from elegant or romantic. It's frenzied and rushed, like a pair of beasts in rut. It's a dizzying mess of fumbling to take off clothes and undo buckles; a hurried need for oneness that won't be put off or denied.

He bites and I scratch, though he's always careful not to go too far. Always holding back, just enough to make me wonder if I'll ever be able to handle him when he loses that unyielding self-control. A fire, unchecked. I yearn to burn in it.

After the haze of lust is spent, he helps me back into my clothes. Once again, the ruthless King is a sweet and doting lover. He checks my bandages, brushing silken lips against the swollen stitches on my shoulder. I buckle his belt, adjusting the holstered guns against his hips.

A sudden rush of anxiety and sadness makes my head spin.

My time with him is ending.

I have to let him go, and this time I really have absolutely no idea when we will see each other again.

"Sylus," I whisper, not trusting my voice not to break. "I...do I have to...leave?"

I never could have imagined that I would be so bold. Bold and foolish. Clingy.

Shame fills me, but it cannot override my sadness.

"Can't I fight Noxis by your side?"

He observes me from above, and I wonder if I am just another piece of the King's domain. My words are heavy and full of feeling, yet his eyes remain a hard glimmering ruby. Unwavering. Unmoved.

My pride rebels. But, what good is pride when I am being separated from someone that I...

That I...what?

The answer comes to me, yet I deny it. Completely. Entirely.

The truth my heart reveals is something that can never come to pass.

Not ever.

My hands ball into fists.

"What is it that you want from me, Sylus?"

I'm about to try to back out of the trap I've just stepped into when suddenly he moves forward and pulls me into a tight hug. I hear his heart beating against my ear. Steady as always. Controlled. Yet when he nuzzles into my neck, his voice is strained.

"What do I want?" he echoes. His words thin out into a whisper. "You should already know."

I shiver, and my heart screams.

Screams and screams.

My resolve shatters.

I hug him back, my arms shaking.

"I don't want to leave," I say in a rush. My eyes sting. "You want to fight them alone? You want me to stay out of this? Are you crazy? Are you mad?" My hand slaps his arm. "You frustrating, infuriating, impossible asshole! Can't you see how worried I am about you?"

He gives a low, exasperated chuckle. "Finally honest, kitten? Took you long enough." He tightens his embrace, catching my wrist in his large hand. "Yes, yes. Being tied to a bad man like me is beyond reasonable."

"It's completely unreasonable!" I shout at him, tears running waterfalls down my cheeks.

When he backs away, his eyes are soft, twinkling with mischief and something else, something I haven't seen there before. He thumbs away my tears.

"Shedding tears now? How endearing."

"Don't treat me like a child," I pout, knowing that I'm the one really being unreasonable now. "Or a kitten. Or a dove. Or whatever the hell else you come up with."

He holds me as I calm down, and when I can think straight, he asks, "So? Do you still not know what I want from you?"

I shake my head, stubborn. I don't want to rely on assumptions. I want to hear him say it. Clearly. So I can't doubt my sanity when we're apart.

He chuckles and presses a kiss to my forehead. "You should know that I adore you," he murmurs, the red in his eyes languid and his voice a tender caress. "There is no love purer than mine."

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 6

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148721101#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5

I wake up ravenous.

My first instinct is to find food. Immediately. It feels like my stomach is rubbing up against my spine. I'm thirsty, too. Parched like I've been in a desert for weeks. As I move to get up, I realize I'm lying on a soft mattress covered in black silk sheets. They swish softly with each of my motions. I wince as I get up. My body throbs with each stretch of my muscles, and my head is pounding like a drum. I reach up in response to the pain, discovering that my shoulder, arm, and part of my head are covered in gauze and bandages. I vaguely remember the battle at the Mythe; my memory is still hazy. But, I do recall waking up in Sylus's arms and drifting off as I lay in the bath.

I look around. This place isn't the same one I fell asleep in. In fact, I do recognize this bed and the beautifully carved headboard. My cheeks grow hot. This is Sylus's home. And his bed. He must have taken me here after what happened. I should probably be worried. After all, I'm in the N109, in the home of its proverbial king. Yet, I'm more curious than afraid.

A pair of soft black slippers is waiting for me at the side of the bed. Someone dressed me in a warm sweatshirt and pants. The sleeves are much too long, and I have to fold up the pants so I don't trip over them. I spot a full length mirror some distance away and pad to it. As I examine my reflection, my cheeks grow even hotter. I swear that lately all I wear are Sylus's clothes. The thought is so intimate that I don't know what to do with myself. For now, I file it away for later introspection.

A shuffling sound in the corner catches my attention.

"Mephisto," I call out, spotting the large crow snoozing on his golden perch by Sylus's study. He blinks open one eye and makes a grumbling noise, going back to sleep soon after.

I make a circle around the room, taking in the décor, shelves of books, records, and ornaments. Sylus has incredible taste. Either that, or he hires a private decorator. Either way, I'm impressed. I'm also curious to learn more about the rest of this house. As I approach the doorway with double doors, Mephisto caws and flutters over to perch on my uninjured shoulder.

Behind me, a familiar ring tone jingles a pleasant melody. I turn around and see a phone lying on Sylus's desk. Walking over to it, I see words flashing on the caller ID:

Pick up

Curious, I take the call, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Good morning," a soft baritone greets.

"Sylus? How did you know I was awake?" On my shoulder, Mephisto caws. "Oh, I see."

"How are you feeling?"

I straighten my shoulders subconsciously. "Some pain, but OK. I'm hungry."

He chuckles, and I clutch at the hem of my sweatshirt.

I suddenly want to see him.

Badly.

"There's food ready for you. Take your pick."

"Where?"

"Why don't you explore a bit?"

"You want a Hunter to roam around your house?"

"Why? Are you going to get me in trouble?" I can practically hear him smirking. "Sounds like a fun game."

I make an exasperated noise. "Right. I forgot you're almighty and have nothing to fear."

"Sounds like you're figuring it out," he says, ignoring my sarcasm. We chat for several minutes like this, and I'm shocked at how much I enjoy just talking with Sylus and poking fun at each other. I check the phone for the time, surprised to see that it's 4:00 AM.

"It's so early," I frown. "I'm never up this early."

"Go eat," he reminds me.

That's when I realize that I don't want to hang up the phone. I curl my finger around a lock of my hair nervously, feeling about as ridiculous as a high schooler talking to her first crush. I push away that thought.

"Sylus," I start, not really knowing what to say.

"I'll be back soon," comes his low soft promise. "Be a good girl and wait for me."

We hang up the call, and I stare at the phone for some time. I poke through the settings, frustrated when I see that I can only make outgoing calls to Sylus's number. My thoughts shift to Xavier. I hope he can wait just a little longer for me to reach out.

I begin exploring the house. It's much larger than I remember. With the ever present darkness, it's impossible to tell the time of day. It's like being trapped in a separate dimension. I go through several rooms, impressed by the walls and floors covered in exquisite black marble. When I make it to one particular set of doors, two shadowy figures jump out of nowhere to block my path. I stumble back, relieved when I recognize the strange masks and dark armor.

"Luke, Kieran," I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Oops. Did we scare you?" Luke asks, tilting his head.

"Can't go in here," Kieran says, folding his arms across his chest.

"Sylus didn't give me any restrictions," I protest jokingly. "But, honestly, I'm just looking for food."

As they guide me to the dining room, we share a few words. To my surprise, the twins are rather easy to talk to.

"Luke," I pause in my steps. One of the twins turns to look at me. "Were you alright? The LUMINIS didn't hurt you, did it?"

He taps the side of his face then steps closer to me. "Lady, you're kind of messed up in the head, huh?"

I blink up at him. "What do you mean?"

He makes an exaggerated hum, like he's thinking hard. "I'm not your buddy. I'm your warden. That question...It's kind of like a prisoner worrying about his jailer, isn't it?"

I'm still confused. "Prisoner?"

Suddenly Kieran laughs, clapping his hands together. "Aw, look. She doesn't know. Poor thing."

Luke shrugs. "She'll know soon enough."

"What are you two talking about?" I ask with a frown.

"Boss-man doesn't have guests," Kieran says. "If you're here, you're just a prisoner."

"Or a toy," Luke adds, holding up a finger. "Till the Boss gets bored. Then I guess he'll find something else to play with."

I wad a piece of my sweatshirt in my fist, really not knowing what to think of their discussion. I'm a prisoner? That doesn't seem right. Didn't Sylus bring me here to keep me safe while I heal? Am I really so naïve that I've completely misread his intentions? He hadn't tried to keep me anywhere against my will since the first time we met. I helped him when he needed me, as we agreed. In return, he helped me look for more information about the Aether Cores and those who may have killed my family.

Is it really that simple, though?

And how much did that one night of passion weigh against all these assumptions?

Since when was I so comfortable around Sylus?

Oh my god. Where has my mind been all this time?

I shiver, like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. I look around again, and suddenly the beautiful black marble and gold-trimmed walls feel like a gilded cage rather than a home.

"Uh-oh," Kieran chimes. "Looks like we might have hurt her feelings."

"Just managing expectations," Luke waves his hands.

"I gotta say," Kieran continues, "you fight pretty good. Your aim needs work though."

"...aim?" I ask, my voice strained.

Kieran does a little twirl as he sidesteps around Luke to stand in front of me. He leans in, and I'm momentarily disoriented by his raven mask's red eyes. "You can't be stupid enough to think that shooting someone in the arm or in the foot will stop 'em from getting up and shooting you in the head, yeah?"

"She's not a killer, Kieran," Luke says.

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Kieran shrugs.

On my shoulder, Mephisto stirs and gives an angry squawk. He flutters his wings then settles down. While I'm trying to process all this, my stomach growls loudly.

"Let's get some chow," Kieran says. "Come on, Lady."

We walk to the dining room, and when I see the extravagant feast set up on the large table at the center, I momentarily forget my angst. All kinds of dishes greet my ravenous gaze. Roasted chicken with some kind of glaze, fish and seafood, several kind of soup, fruits that look fresher than any I've ever seen, and a side table with cheesecakes and yogurt parfaits. I lick my lips, my eyes gravitating towards the chicken and fruit.

I don't hesitate to dig in. Grabbing a plate - or two - I scoop up a little bit of everything to try. There's no disappointment on my end. Everything tastes like it came from a five star cookery. There's a pitcher with some kind of divinely flavored water; I down several glasses. I save the oranges - my favorite - for last. Breathing in their fragrance, I begin to peel a few, already anticipating how delicious they'll be.

Luke and Kieran grab some samples for themselves as well, chattering about topics I don't understand. I tune them out, but I am impressed at how in sync they are. Everything from their movements to the way they finish and start each other's sentences speaks volumes of how close they are. I've never seen them fight, but I imagine that they are quite a formidable force. They'd have to be, to serve Sylus as closely as they do. Unfortunately, it also means they likely know their Boss much better than I can hope to.

Their previous words sting as I munch on a few slices of oranges. I'm so entranced by the food that I hardly notice when the sound of footsteps begins to echo behind me. I glance up and see that Luke and Kieran have disappeared. With a ruffle of his wings, Mephisto takes flight from my shoulder to the back of the room.

I whirl around to see Sylus smirking as he looms in the doorway; Mephisto happily settles on his shoulder. Sylus is so tall that the top of his head almost touches the casing. Right away, his sheer presence winds up the coil of tension in my body. I don't know whether it's because I've Resonated with him so much, but it seems that lately I can always feel him when he's this close. That or I just need to break down and admit that the man is intimidating no matter what setting he's in.

He's wearing a black button up shirt and dark dress jeans that hug his hips and muscular thighs. A dark red jacket is draped over his shoulders, flowing behind him like a warrior's banner. The gun holster at his hip is empty, and his pointed black dress shoes look like they've got some dust on them. One hand rests in his pocket while the other strokes at his chin, his crimson eyes vivid and fierce. He's covered in red spatters and stains, but I can't see any wounds.

It's not my blood - his voice echoes in my mind from yesterday. Hollow and cold.

And yet, I'm not afraid.

"Sylus," I can't help the way my voice softens when I say his name. "You're back. Are you...hurt?"

He huffs and brushes his thumb against his cheek. Like a flickering illusion, all the blood turns into dust and evaporates in a crimson flash from his clothes and skin. My heart drums in my chest, and I don't understand the rush of emotions clamoring for attention within. Excitement? Intimidation? Yearning? Do I want to run? If so, do I want to run away from him or towards him?

He keeps staring at me until I want to squirm, but I will myself to keep my back straight. I've told him over and over I'm not a small animal that needs protection, and I don't want to renege on that assertion.

"Um," I swallow thickly as he takes a step towards me. I look towards the dining table, unable to maintain his predatory gaze. "This food is delicious."

Another step.

He raises his hand and snaps his fingers.

And then he's gone.

Mephisto flies to his golden perch in the corner of the room.

One second.

Two.

In a whoosh of blazing Evol and ruby mist, Sylus appears right behind me. Long arms emerge from the shadows to wrap around my waist. Even as I start to turn around, I'm pulled backwards against the length of him, his body heat encasing me like a stygian cloak. Long fingers caress my neck and guide me to move my head so that soft sensual lips can press against the pulse at my throat.

He smells like earthy smoke, fading ash, and the untamed wind. He smells like battle. I imagine him flying through the night on his motorcycle - powerful, free, untouchable. I wonder what dangers he faced last night and how he overcame them. I wonder if I'll always worry about him like this. There's really no need. I can't imagine there would ever be a situation he can't handle.

I lean into him. I really can't help myself. This man constantly throws me off kilter, and I have no hope of regaining my balance. All I can do is let him lead while I follow. Otherwise, I'll be so lost that I won't ever find my way. He makes me forget about the natural boundaries of the world I know; makes me unafraid at the prospect of stepping into the eclipse as long as I am by his side.

"Looks like you've made yourself right at home in the lion's den," he teases. His lips curve into a smile against my skin. I whimper when his palms snake up my sides and reach around to cup my breasts.

"...was hungry..." I breathe, closing my eyes against a rush of pleasure.

"I'm rather hungry myself," he purrs. "It's been a long night, and you look delicious." He traces my arm all the way from my shoulder to my wrist, sending bolts of electricity buzzing over my skin. Bringing my hand to his lips, he breathes in.

"You smell delicious too. Like oranges and spice..." Slowly, deliberately, his mouth wraps around my index finger.

"Mmn...Sylus..." I almost want to tell him to wait, to stop, that this is too much for me. But, his eyes bore into me, silencing my protests. I struggle to keep breathing. I know where this is going, but I'm still worried for him.

I bite my lip as he lifts me up just enough to rub my backside against his hips. The hardness there is a testament to the fact that he is very far from tired. His fingers mold into my belly, teasing me with controlled pressure in just the right spots while his tongue traces the sensitive grooves between the fingers on my hand.

"You just got back. Shouldn't you...mnn...rest?"

"Is that what you want me to do?" His tone is dangerous, like subdued thunder.

He pulls back from my hand, and I take a few breaths to recover. It's too late, though. The fire's been lit, and if I don't take it to conclusion I am going to be disappointed.

"Well?" he asks again.

I shake my head. "No..."

"Then," he presses his lips to my left ear and lets out a long hot breath. It tickles, but it also feels incredible. "What does my little kitten want?"

"Please...touch there..."

"Which part?" he asks, pressing himself into me while massaging my body. His tongue traces the shell of my ear, his mouth culminating its journey with a soft bite to my neck. I moan, unable to answer.

"Here?" He licks the spot he just bit, soothing the sting.

"Yes," I whine. "There..."

"And here?"

His hand slides past the waistband of my shorts, fingers inching slowly lower and lower. When he presses against my apex, I gasp and jerk away. My shoulder is starting to hurt, but I don't want Sylus to stop. The way he's grinding me against him is working me into a frenzy, and when his finger slips between my folds I can't help but dig my nails into his forearm. I pull my trembling fingers back, not wanting to hurt him.

"Harder," he growls. "Show me how good it feels."

A few strokes and I'm ready to do anything he tells me to. I move my hips against his hand, throwing my head back. "Nnn...ah....Sylus..." My whimpers turn needy as his finger slips inside me. He starts pumping it in and out, and my knees go weak. His sinewy arms keep me from falling, holding me so close that I can hear his every breath. I claw him harder like he asks, breaking skin and drawing blood.

"More...faster..." I beg him.

"As you wish." Another finger joins the first, stretching me open until I see stars. He increases his pace, curling, bending, reaching for something inside. Suddenly, I'm scared. The pleasure is building too fast. There's a pressure in my belly I can't understand. I gasp, trying to run from the feeling.

"Wait...no...too much..."

"First I'm too gentle, and now I'm too rough," he purrs. "You should make up your mind."

"Too much," I cry out. "Wait...Sylus..."

He chuckles. "No," he kisses the nape of my neck. "I don't think I will."

He keeps driving his fingers into my depths until he snags something inside. I jerk and shudder, and he knows he's found what he's been seeking. He focuses on it, then, despite me begging for his mercy. Again and again, he hits that spot inside me. I go numb one second; the next, everything feels too sharp and intense. I can't catch my breath. Harder and harder I claw at his arms, his clothes, his hand. My climax is like a riptide. My vision goes black as my whole body convulses in ecstasy. I scream out his name, and hot sticky fluids coat my shorts and Sylus's hand. I sag in his arms with a whimper, trembling all over. Without missing a beat, he lifts me into his powerful embrace.

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, I yank him down into a fiery kiss. Our tongues slip and slide together, and I lament how in control he is. Until, with a growl, he snaps. Leans down so my body is tilted, driving his tongue into my mouth until I can't take a breath. At last, when I start to see spots, he pulls back. My lips are throbbing, swollen, and sore. I'm dizzy with need, so aroused that I can hardly bear the ache between my legs. Resting my head against his chest, I wince as I try to find a position where my shoulder doesn't hurt.

"What is it?" he asks, all mirth suddenly gone from his voice. "Are you in pain?"

I find his eyes, still breathing raggedly, still trembling. I wonder if I am imagining the concern in his gaze. "I'm alright. Sylus, please don't stop."

I need more of him - his lips, his tongue, his fingers, and everything past that. I stare at his rugged features, mesmerized, then reach up to cup his face with both of my hands. He closes his eyes, leaning into my palm. This man. This beast. As I hold him, I can't fathom how I'm doing so. Embracing him is like holding a living flame. Too close and I'll get burned. Yet, I can't stop. Can't let go.

I cry out in surprise when he lifts me farther up his body, until I'm almost draped over his shoulder. It takes the friction away from my injuries, and our faces are nearly touching. Just like before in the hotel, gravity pulls us together until our foreheads press against one another. I forget all my doubts and fears when I spiral down into the wine of his eyes.

"Come, I'll take you to bed."

My fingers thread into his hair. I have no pride left. No dignity.

"Please," I implore. "Please, don't stop."

His eyes are my world, so I can't see his expression. But, I see the corners of those eyes crinkle in amusement.

"I didn't say I would stop. I'm just taking you to bed." He doesn't warn me this time. His Evol wraps around us, pulsing and flowing through me. The world spins, blurring into a watercolor painting. My body moves without my direction. I gasp at the feeling of a rapid rise and drop.

And then my back is cradled among silk sheets. One second I'm alone among a shower of falling black feathers, and the next Sylus appears from thin air, fitting against me as perfectly as one half of a whole. We kiss, and he's gentle this time. His hands continue what they started in the dining room. He positions himself between my legs and starts kissing downwards from my neck to my chest.

"Tell me," he murmurs with his head buried in my breasts. "Were you waiting anxiously for my return?"

My ears burn, and I shake my head.

"Tell the truth now." He draws my nipple into his mouth, and I pull at his hair.

"I wasn't," I insist, my thighs hugging his hips, pulling him against me. My shorts disappear in short order, his hand coming back to wring more cries of pleasure from me as he teases my clit.

"But, you want me now. Listen to your sweet little mewls, kitten. Your body is begging for me." Leaning over me, he pushes my legs up against my chest and thrusts his fingers even deeper inside me. I'm mortified. He can see everything from this angle, and my shyness momentarily overtakes my awareness. I try to hide my face with my hands, but he gently pulls them down.

"Don't hide your face from me," he commands. "Not ever."

I cry out in bliss as his fingers curl inside me. He starts up an erratic rhythm, and my head swims. As though from a distance, I hear my voice - moaning, whining, sobbing.

"Ah...wait...not so deep..."

He doesn't let me come even though I approach the edge several times. My eyes water with tears as pleasure and frustration washes over me.

"S-Sylus," I cry out. "Please...please..."

His tongue spirals into my belly button, and I buck my hips.

"Please let me come," I plead.

"So? Were you waiting for me or not?"

"I was!" I sob. "I...was..."

He hums in approval. "You're cute when you're honest."

His fingers stop moving. He pulls back and unbuttons his shirt. In the low light of the bedroom, his red eyes gleam with satisfaction. Shucking off his shirt and jacket, he leans over me. I lick my lips, my eyes devouring his athletic form, my arousal building and reaching a fever pitch. He frees his erection from his pants, and my mouth goes dry again. Without further conversation, he pushes my legs up even higher and slips inside me. I clutch at the bed sheets as I experience an earth-shattering orgasm.

It's not the last time. Sylus sets a steady rigorous pace, and I let myself float in a sea of new and incredible sensations. He takes me over and over until I'm a sweaty, shivering, and drooling mess, hitting me so deep inside that I can hardly breathe. My voice is hoarse, and I can't feel my fingers or my toes.

"No...Sylus...please," I whimper as he pulls me into his lap and slides to the edge of the bed. "I can't...I can't anymore-ah!" I throw my head back as he spears into me.

"We're not stopping yet," he says, his voice strained and breathy. "Not when you're squeezing me this hard." His hands settle on my hips, fingers digging into the flesh of my butt cheeks. I feel like I might faint when he starts to move, bouncing me up and down on his engorged cock until I come again and again. With a low growl of satisfaction, he reaches his own peak, filling my womb with his cum.

When I fall forward, he helps me wrap my arms around his shoulders. We sit like that for a while, regaining our bearings, sharing breaths and kisses. I love feeling him inside me; being joined with him. His hands stroke my hair and my back. I nuzzle into his neck, taking in his scent, memorizing it. Without pulling out of me, he leans back on the bed, letting me rest comfortably against him.

I steal a peek at his face. He fingers a lock of my hair, his expression thoughtful. When enough time passes, I gather my courage to speak.

"Sylus..."

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing? What is this?"

He doesn't answer, and I put my head back down against his chest. Maybe he doesn't know either. Putting a name to this is too complicated, after all.

"Ellara," he murmurs my name.

"Yes?"

"Things are about to escalate with Noxis."

I try to sit up, but Sylus holds me in place.

"You mean with LUMINIS?"

He pauses. "You're going to be hunted."

"I'm not afraid of them."

Another awkward silence as Sylus continues stroking my back.

"See that your courage doesn't turn into recklessness. I don't want a repeat of yesterday."

I nod.

"I've arranged for your knight to pick you up tomorrow at midnight."

Startled, I manage to sit so I can see his face. "Knight?"

He smirks. "The one you call your partner," he clarifies. "The one with the collar around his neck."

"Xavier?" My eyes go wide. "You called him?"

His fingers stroke my cheek. "If he's going to be of any use to you, I'm going to need to break that collar. Tomorrow, I'll do so."

I settle down against him when he pulls me forward, too exhausted to process everything he's saying. As he pets my hair, I start to drift off.

"Sylus, what am I to you?" I mumble, already half asleep. "Am I just a phase? A diversion?"

He huffs. "Another incredible misunderstanding. Should I correct it this time?"

My eyes close, his warmth too cozy and comforting for me to resist. "Mmm hmm..."

"I'll tell you when you can hold a proper conversation," he chuckles, pulling a silk sheet over both of us. "The safest place for you is here, Ellara. But, I will not cage you. Do as you will for now. One day, you will choose to stand by my side."

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148623040#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4

I'm lost in the Mist.

Stumbling, shuffling along, disoriented.

Pain is my constant companion here, wrapped around me, strangling me.

No matter where I go, I can't escape it. As though it holds some kind of vengeful grudge, it hunts me and seeks to torture me. Without a doubt, it wants to kill me, but somehow I just can't die.

Over and over, it takes me to the brink. But, as soon as my heart stops, someone reaches in and squeezes it. My veins flush with adrenaline. My blood pounds in my ears, roaring like a raging waterfall. The shadowy hand squeezes and squeezes until my heart starts again.

The Mist is outraged.

The Mist yearns for my death.

It captures me. Stuffs me in a box to await my execution. Each time, it tries a new method. First, it burns me alive in a great roaring pyre. I howl as the flames overtake me and melt away my flesh and bones. My whole body turns to ash. And yet - somehow - I come back.

The cycle begins anew. I run again. Am captured. Whipped. Tortured. And then, the Mist tries to skin me as I scream and beg for it to stop. It holds me down as I writhe and twist and thrash in agony. In the end, I bleed out into the intangible ground.

Hands squeeze my heart again.

Evol flushes my veins.

And again, I come back. Again, I run. Back into my cage. Back into this endless timeless nightmare. Here, the Mist submerges me in boiling water. Blisters bubble all over me from head to toe, disfiguring my arms and legs and face.

I scream and scream. I beg. I plead.

I want to die.

Please, just let me die.

"You can endure this. Just a little longer."

Lies.

Falsehoods.

I can't survive this.

I just can't.

My heart stops again. I push away the shadowy hands. I push and shove. I bite and claw at them. But, I don't stand a chance. Without my consent, they reset the clock; they pull me back from the edge.

Ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub...

Another heartbeat guides my own.

I can't resist as it pulls me along, back into the fray.

I'm crying now. Weeping. All dignity gone.

"Endure it, Ellara. I know you can."

Please, just let me die.

I can't stand the pain anymore.

Let me go.

Stop this cruelty.

It hurts. I can't take this.

Please. Just end it.

"Be strong. It's almost off of you."

Moment by moment, I cling to life. Cling to sanity.

Bit by bit, the pain begins to recede.

The Mist stops hunting me.

Some light enters my world.

And then sound.

Running water falling and crashing against stone. But, not a waterfall. More like a thousand droplets. Falling and crashing. Hissing. The sounds echo in an enclosed space, amplified and all encompassing. Thick fragrant steam wafts against my face, sticky and moist. My throat hurts.

Parched, I lick my lips.

"Water," I wheeze.

Something warm, pliant, and soft presses against my mouth. Water flows in, and I swallow it greedily. Again and again, the water comes. Until I can't drink anymore. Until just the softness remains. My senses reel. It tastes like heaven - lingering, molding into heated breath, reaching inside, igniting a different sort of ache. I want to reach up and capture this familiar flame, but something holds my wrists in place - an unyielding yet controlled force.

"Ellara, wake up. Look at me."

I must obey.

When he calls me like that, I must.

And so, I open my eyes.

First, I see a man's large bare feet. My stinging eyes follow long legs covered in black dress pants. Up and up, until I find muscular corded forearms. They lead to strong wrists and long-fingered warrior's hands. Large, but somehow graceful. Elegant. Beautiful.

One of these hands holds a soapy black washcloth. It smells earthy, like an herbal tincture. The man's legs rest against my hips, and his arms are wrapped around me. Not imprisoning. Not capturing. In this embrace, I feel safe. Protected. This is true even when I see that my wrists are held together before me, wrapped in a black and red Evol I've learned to recognize.

More sensations come. More realizations.

I'm naked as the day I was born. How odd. I don't remember what I was doing before this moment. I'm still confused, disoriented without a sense of time or place. Instead, I float between memories and scenery, between eras long past and things taking place far off in the future. I see faces, experience other lives. I try to understand where now is.

Where am I? Is this a dream? An illusion? I've died so many times now that I'm not afraid to face the void again.

It's just a shame...

A shame to leave him behind.

"If you'll regret leaving, then stay with me."

Yes. That's logical isn't it? I don't want to leave, so I'll just stay here in his arms.

Finally, I feel the water cascading down my body. It's warm and pleasant. Steam surrounds me. I'm sitting on a tile floor. With most of the pain gone, the tension leaves my body. I sag against the man behind me.

"Ellara, can you hear me?" a sublime voice inquires, rumbling against my ear.

"Yes," I whisper.

One of his hands slides from my arm up to my chest and neck, guiding my head until it tilts back. I take a deep, ragged breath. Red eyes consume me. Focused. Intense. As though the owner could see right into my very soul.

"Sylus?" I gasp.

He blinks. Frowns. "Talk to me," he says. "Where is the pain now?"

I try to move my body around. "My shoulder," I mumble. "My head." I lick my lips again. "Thirsty..."

He brings a narrow pitcher to my lips and tilts it back. "Slowly," he says.

I take a few sips then lean back against him, my strength spent. He shifts and moves, sliding his arms under my legs and shoulders. In a single motion, he lifts me and stands. I tug at his Evol, still wrapped around my wrists.

"Sylus, please let my arms go."

His gaze finds me again. "Not until I'm sure the toxin is out of you."

I'm too exhausted to argue. Instead, I try to look around. I don't recognize this bathroom at all.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe. For now, that's all you need to worry about." He shoulders open a glass door and steps out of a marble shower stall.

"Where are you taking me?" I murmur, leaning my head against his shoulder. I'm starting to feel sleepy again.

Sylus doesn't answer any more of my questions. Moving slowly so he doesn't jostle me, he brings me to an adjoining room with what looks like an enormous bath tub. There's a control panel next to it with a plethora of different buttons that glow different colors. Atop it sits a long glass case, and within floats what looks like an emerald Protocore. The water is the same color, illuminated with gentle lighting under each jet. Recognition flares, but it's brief. Before I can identify what the bath tub is, the memory slips away from me.

I'm silent as he lowers me into the churning green water. Resting my head against the back of the tub, I examine Sylus. His clothes are sopping wet, and water drips from his silver hair. Aside from his dress pants, he's still wearing his trademark black and red shirt. What disturbs me is all the blood staining the fabric. Suddenly worried, I reach a shaking hand out to him.

"You're hurt," I croak out. "How did you get injured?"

He takes my hand into his, threading his fingers with mine just the way I like.

"It's not my blood," he says without a hint of emotion.

I struggle to remember what came before I awoke in the shower with him. "Were we...fighting? Was I wounded?"

Still frowning, he urges me to turn my head to the side.

"What are you doing?"

He examines something on my head for a minute then releases me. Our eyes meet again.

"You were shot," he says. "I dug out the bullets."

With a wave of his hand, he releases the Evol around my wrists. My hand comes up to feel my shoulder, the source of the sharpest discomfort. I gasp when I feel thick stitching sticking out against my skin. Then the pain knifes into me, and I cry out. Sylus curses and snags my hand, yanking it back.

"Don't touch it," he warns. "Lie still. You need a few more hours in the water to heal." He scratches the back of his neck, looking suddenly uncertain. "Stitching a wound isn't something I have practice with. It will probably scar."

"How long have I been here?"

"About twenty six hours now."

I hold my breath. "You've...you've been here with me that long?"

"If I wasn't with you, you would have died." He pauses, as though hesitating. "The toxin nearly killed you."

"LUMINIS," I say, suddenly remembering. "There's no antidote, and we can't get one unless we can get a sample." Memories start rushing back. "That's why we went there with Xavier. To find one."

I suddenly gasp. "Xavier! I need to contact him right away."

"Not yet," Sylus says. His hand pushes against my chest to make sure I don't try to stand up, and suddenly my thoughts scatter.

Oh, Lord.

I'm naked.

The realization successfully shuts me up. My ears burn.

"Stay in the water," Sylus says. "After your wounds are sterilized, you can do as you please." He smirks. "Within reasonable limits."

The man in front of me has never been reasonable. In fact, I'm pretty sure the word can't be used in conjunction with his existence. I'm worried that Xavier doesn't know where I am. I can't remember how everything ended, but he has a tendency to be overprotective. Though no one would ever know it, he worries. Just imagining how concerned he must be right now puts me on edge. I want to reach out to him immediately.

While I'm pondering all this, Sylus stands up and begins stripping out of his wet clothes. My thought process comes to a halt when he peels off his shirt, revealing a body the Gods would envy. My breath catches, and my mouth goes dry. As though sensing my regard, Sylus turns his head to me and smiles.

"What is it?" he asks, feigning ignorance.

"Can I have some clothes?"

"After your bath," he says, stepping into a nearby closet. When he comes back out, he's wearing dry black sweatpants and matching tank. A white towel hangs around his bare shoulders. While drying the back of his hair, he pads over to the tub and sits down on the floor, joining our hands again. I bite my lower lip when he kisses the inside of my wrist. His thumb begins to stroke my hand.

"Thank you, Sylus," I say, my cheeks hot.

"What exactly for?" he smirks.

"Saving my life." I want to say more. Much much more. But, my vision starts to go blurry. "How did you know...about Noxis? Were you planning to go to that club the whole time?"

Sylus chuckles. "Barely got one foot out of the grave and already back to Hunter mode?" He squeezes my hand. "I'll answer your questions when you're better. For now, just relax."

"There's no time," I protest. "We can't let anyone else be exposed to LUMINIS."

I shrink back when Sylus leans closer. I recognize the twinkle in his eyes, and my heart flutters.

"Should I climb in there with you?" he teases. "Will that help you relax?"

Somehow, I doubt it.

My gaze rolls from his eyes to his lips. He runs his index finger against my mouth.

"I said relax, sweetie, not tempt me."

"...not trying to."

"Go to sleep." His features soften. The churning water massages all my sore muscles, tugging me into a trance. Soon, I feel like I'm going to drift off. My eyes close, and I feel a warm hand press against my cheek.

"Rest now," he says.

His voice follows me into the dark.

From the moment Xavier's one way earpiece explodes with the sounds of gunfire and battle, his mind and body hones in on a singular goal: get back to the Mythe and help his partner. He drops off Tara at the hospital as promised, but he doesn't have the luxury of explaining anything. He rushes back outside to the EV charging stations where he parked his 270HM. The bike roars to life as he scans his executive ID card.

The gunfire in his ears stops. The earpiece goes silent.

Xavier pushes the gleaming black and white bike to its limits, setting off alarm after alarm. It flies over the smooth highway at a speed most operators couldn't comprehend. Lights and other vehicles blur together as he soars past them, weaving in and out between other cars and trucks moving along the road. The average Hunter would need months of specialized training to handle half this speed, but to Xavier even this feels much too slow.

Like a bullet, he shoots through the frozen night air. His clothes are too delicate for this sort of endeavor, and soon ice begins to build up on his knees, gloves, and shoulders. He can't feel it; the only ice he can sense now is the dread growing in his heart. The guilt. The frustration. He should never have left Ellara alone in such a dangerous place.

The computer shrieks warnings about high speeds and demands for him to slow down, but he is past listening. He overrides the console when it tries to slow him down by force. It's highly illegal, and he will likely face a reprimand. But, Ellara's life hangs in the balance, and he doesn't care how many laws he breaks if it means he can protect her.

He slides to a stop in the falling snow in the Mythe's driveway just as the explosions start. The first one sends his bike lurching sideways. Xavier jumps to take cover behind a rock formation as deafening blasts rend the air. Shockwaves rip through the area. Trees shake. The ground quakes and shudders. He has to look away from the blinding light to avoid it damaging his eyes, recognizing the shape and coloration of the explosions.

If he had to guess based on past experience, he would have pointed a finger at Onychinus and the unique "hightowers" they use for their explosions. Though this isn't N109, he doesn't put it past them to take the opportunity to carve out their rivals. And no wonder. With LUMINIS gaining traction and popularity, Noxis is rising too high too fast; they're operating as cutting edge competition.

Gritting his teeth as he pushes back his fear for Ellara, he abandons his bike and runs to the keening building. Just the thought of her being trapped inside steals his breath. She must have gotten out. Surely, she already made it through the emergency exit like they'd planned.

Closer to the Mythe, it's hell.

A burning, blazing, hellfire.

People scream as they pour out of the Mythe in a violent stampede. Most maim and injure each other in their desperation to reach safety. No matter who it is, humans all fall into their base instincts when their lives are at stake. They knew what they were getting into when attending this event, and Xavier doesn't give them a second thought. Even knowing it's too late, he draws his blade and picks his way around the flames and falling debris to the back of the nightclub.

The veranda is in shambles. Ripped up wires and broken glass bulbs hang from a cracked and ravaged pergola. Bodies litter the burning wood. Snow and blood mixes together and melts from the heat, pouring between the cracks in a sickening river of red. Bullet shells coat the ground, and a familiar smell cuts through the smoke and melting plastic to waft to his nose.

LUMINIS.

A lot of it.

Xavier's hand grips his blade so hard that his palm grows numb.

Above, he hears the tumultuous cry of a murder of crows.

He searches through the death and destruction, his chest tight, not even wanting to consider that he'll find her body among the dead.

She's stronger than that.

She'd defied bigger odds.

The crows circle above him as he flips over every corpse. Searches above and below the veranda. Examines the riverbank. Searches and searches until he realizes his hands are shaking.

He'd left her.

Everything in his gut had been screaming for him not to leave her this night.

And yet, he had.

One large crow - larger than any he's seen before - settles on a nearby tree branch and stares at him with gleaming red eyes.

...shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...............

Xavier straightens when his earpiece hisses with static. Holding his breath, he presses it closer against his ear, realizing that he can hear voices cutting in and out.

And then the screaming starts.

Her screaming.

And it is the most horrible sound he's ever heard.

She's in pain. Indescribable pain.

And there is nothing he can do to stop it.

His mind and body shut down. He closes off every single thought, pressing the earpiece even closer, hoping to hear any kind of clue as to where Ellara is now.

More voices overlay the screams.

Get her in the water!

Too much...bleeding won't stop...

...shit got all over her...call the Boss...

...not gonna make it...

The screams don't stop. Xavier sits beside the riverbank for what seems like hours, listening to her scream, his hands still shaking. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget the sound. For as long as he lives, he will remember this moment.

And then something changes. Another voice crackles across the mic - stone cold and low.

...I've got you...Ellara, I'm here now...

The sudden sound of running water makes everything much harder to hear.

...endure this...know you can...

Chaotic sounds and motions. The screaming starts to die down into weak cries of suffering.

...Sy...lus...

Ellara says the name like a prayer.

...Sy...lus...kill me...kill me...it hurts...

...not going anywhere...you can endure this...

And then silence. No more sound. No more screaming. Sylus. Sylus. Not many people with such a name. Could it be the leader of Onychinus? Impossible. Or perhaps not. Improbable, yes, but rumors had been circulating that Sylus had returned. And if such a man knew of the Aether core in Ellara's heart, she might have caught his interest.

Xavier begins to walk in an aimless direction, instinct moving his body more than his mind. Everything feels numb now, and the only thing he can register is that she's alive. She's alive. As long as she's alive, he can find her. As long as her heart is beating, he will bring her back. No matter who is with her now. Even if it is the King of the Underworld.

As he walks, the crow follows. It stares at him, unnaturally still. It's eyes watch every one of his movements, but it's not the crow watching - it's someone watching through it. A suspicion begins to form. He turns to the animal and sends blades of light flying towards it. Faster than any bird could be, it dodges them and flies away.

Two days pass in a blur. Two long and agonizing days. The first twenty four hours after the explosion are torture. He picks at the earpiece in his ear, afraid to remove it, afraid to part with it in case he hears another clue of Ellara's whereabouts. Every crackle, every bit of static, every tiny noise makes him jump.

The second day, UNICORNS files her as a Hunter missing in action. Plans are made to search for her through larger channels. Still silence from the earpiece. As though she really is dead. Anger, torment, guilt, sorrow - the hurricane threatens to swallow him whole. He can't sleep. Can't eat. Nothing can stop the sensation of something clawing at his chest.

And then, on the third night, his Hunter's watch rings out with an unfamiliar tone.

Sitting in the darkness of his apartment, he lifts his head to look at it.

Number unknown. Will you accept this message?

Hardly daring to breathe, Xavier clicks to receive the data.

Numbers flash up on the holo screen.

Coordinates.

Some words below.

Pick up in two days at midnight. Come alone. Deviate, and never see her again.

#love and deepspace #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148517998#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3

I'm moving.

Floating.

But, everything around me is still.

My senses, too.

Still numb.

Still cold.

Still blind.

Breathing is a chore. I struggle to expand my lungs. If I pause, I don't think I'll ever breathe again.

Too hard. Maybe I should just stop trying.

The darkness tempts.

The void.

But above me, a murder of crows cries out in the night.

Cawing. Clamoring. Shrieking.

After this battle, they should have plenty of corpses to feast on. So, why clamor? Why cry out to the moon in a bloodthirsty song?

Stupid birds.

How terribly annoying.

Just loud enough to keep me from sinking into nothingness.

A shadow looms nearby. I sense it. In the emptiness, it calls to me. And, I can't help but answer. I reach for it, but I can't see. I need to open my eyes. If I don't, then I can't find him.

I try.

I struggle, blinking against a haze of color and motion.

Something warm against my cheek. A voice is speaking. Deep. Rumbling. Like the purring of a lion.

The front of my body is hot while my back is freezing.

The voice keeps speaking, and I finally recognize it.

Sylus.

I try to call for him, but my lips are numb. My voice is thinner than air.

The warmth against my cheek moves to the top of my head. Sliding over my hair then resting beneath my chin. It's a familiar calloused hand. Fingers tip up my face.

Sylus's face swims into view. It's night, and it's dark; pitch black. Yet, his face is perfectly illuminated in the wan evening glow. A frightening and bewitching visage. His eyes blaze as they look down at me. Moonlight paints his hair a gleaming white; it shines as it frames his temples.

"Sylus," I croak out.

Just saying that one word takes everything out of me.

His expression is devoid of anything, yet the line of his mouth speaks of thinly veiled anger.

What was he doing here? Wasn't he returning to N109 for some dangerous errand?

I feel like I'm floating again. The ground beneath me shifts. I smell gun oil mixed with LUMINIS. Realization grips me. I'm draped over someone's back.

"Get her out of here, Luke," Sylus commands without breaking our eye contact.

"Yes, Boss."

The LUMINIS burns my skin. It stings like biting acid, trapped between my front and Luke's back.

With a sudden gasp, I panic. Start to squirm.

"No," I whisper. "Don't...touch me."

"Whoa, lady, calm down would you?" Luke grumbles beneath me, his grip tightening on the backs of my legs. Pain slams into me with the force of a grenade. The more I move, the more it hurts. Everywhere. But, I persist. Doesn't he know? Doesn't he know the LUMINIS will kill him if it touches him?

I keep fighting against his hold. "Poison..." I choke out. "It'll get on you..."

"Ellara."

Just my name. Said in a tone that brooks no disobedience. A threat and a command all in one. From Sylus, it's a decree. I stop moving. I've only heard him say my name a handful of times. I turn my head to look at him; the angry line of his mouth persists. His eyes demand my compliance, and I don't have it in me to resist. My body goes limp.

Sylus steps back, one hand resting in his pocket. Black and crimson gathers around him like a cloud of malice and fury. His eyes soften, just for a moment. "Luke and Kieran will take you somewhere safe. Wait for me."

I close my eyes. Keeping them open is just too hard.

"Hang on tight, lady," Luke says from somewhere very very far away.

"She can't, Luke," Kieran chides. "Her shoulder's busted."

Movement again as Luke shifts his weight between his feet. Then he jumps, and the world dips and sways. The motion is somehow comforting. Perhaps I should be scared of these two men. I've seen their ruthlessness first hand. But, Sylus trusts them with my life, and that's good enough for me.

"You staying somewhere close by, Lady?" Luke asks.

"Boss said not to go to the hotel," Kieran cuts in. "Need to stop the bleeding or he'll have our hides."

"The Tub then?" Luke offers.

"Good thinking."

From there, I lose track of the conversation. They chatter about some nonsense I can't understand. Something tickles right under my nose and the back of my throat. I cough and taste blood. Looks like the LUMINIS is running through my system.

"Oi, Lady," Kieran pats my cheek. "What's going on with you?"

"Poison," I mumble, nearing delirium. "Wash...off..."

"Definitely the Tub, then," Luke says beneath me.

It's the last thing I hear for a while.

With the freezing winds comes the first snow of the year. It comes down hard and fast, blanketing the veranda in white and giving the scene an interesting kind of contrast.

Sylus watches Luke and Kieran disappear into the shadows of the night with forced dispassion. He's leaving something precious to him with a pair of mentally unstable murderers. Yet, aside from at his own side, there is no safer place for Ellara now.

Particularly now that Noxis has found her.

With the twins, she is in good hands. His masked monsters are heartless, and in that savagery lies unwavering loyalty. Beasts can only be controlled by fear of something stronger than them. In knowing that there exists no greater power than his own, Luke and Kieran choose to serve Sylus as their leader. They are well aware of the resources at his command, and they will do what they must to ensure the woman survives until their master can return.

Pondering over it now serves no purpose, so he releases all concern for her wellbeing.

There is business to be concluded here tonight, a pathetic little rebellion he should have squashed months ago.

As the snow covers everything around him, Sylus's true hunt begins. He turns on his heel, his crimson eyes aglow with bloodlust, a crooked smile gracing his striking features. With both hands in his pockets, he strides across the veranda, stepping over mangled bodies to move to a group of huddled men moaning and crying as they cower in terror. A pitch black mist surrounds them, holding them captive.

Above, Mephisto's greedy crows cry out to feast, their hunger insatiable.

Blood splats and spatters around Sylus's shoes as he takes each step, mixing into a red slush as he walks. And with each stride, more and more black mist gathers around him. Like a snake, it rises up and strikes, wrapping phantom claws and hands around one of the men and lifting him into the air. The man screams in abject horror, foaming at the mouth when the mist begins to break and snap his fingers one by one. The same filthy fingers that hit a certain Hunter in the head with a club.

An eye for an eye.

Now if only Ellara could grasp the concept.

Had she aimed for vitals with her shots, this night might have ended altogether differently. She'd always been too soft. Too merciful. Even then.

Glancing down at the others, his expression is one of disinterest. He's used to cowards shaking and begging before him. Why are humans always so predictable?

"I have some questions," he says. "Answers will be rewarded with less pain." The man in the grasp of the mist begs for his life, but his sputtering is not the response Sylus needs. When the coward is used up, he throws his lifeless body aside and moves to the next. "Who will volunteer?"

"Help us!" the second man shrieks as the mist drags him backwards by his ankles. "Malakai! Please help us!"

The wind picks up speed, scattering the crows circling above. Sylus looks towards the roof of the Mythe, his lips curling into an amused smirk when he sees a lone silhouette crouched there.

"There you are," he says. "How many more of your pawns should I kill before you decide to greet me?" Sylus smiles, his hands still in his pockets. "Or do I need to burn this anthill to the ground to get to you?"

The figure jumps down, and as it lands, the very ground shakes. The air shudders. A man straightens and stands tall, dressed in dark military armor. Sleek metal covers vulnerable points of his body, including his knees and parts of his gloves. He removes his hood and mask, revealing smoldering violet eyes and onyx hair.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Malakai Noxis?" Sylus asks.

"I'm humbled you remember me," Malakai replies with a sneer. He bows mockingly.

"You've certainly made a nuisance of yourself." Taking a step forward, Sylus crushes a bunch of glass shards under his foot. "This game you're playing with Evol disrupters and false Protocores has become difficult to ignore."

Malakai chuckles. "Oh? I'm honored. It's just a side project, really."

Sylus strokes his chin. "And yet, I don't recall giving you permission to operate on my turf."

"You have no jurisdiction outside N109, Sylus. The rules are different here." His gives a toxic grimace, eyes burning with malice.

"Malakai!" the men in Sylus's grasp scream. "Please help us!" The man's sneer deepens, a shadow crossing his face. Before the captives can say another word, something hisses as it wraps around their bodies. With a series of crunches and pops, the men are crushed like tin cans in a metal press. Blood sprays onto the snow and the other prisoners. They cry out in fear and cower. More screams as the other men meet the same end as their comrades.

Sylus watches carefully, analyzing, memorizing. This is a blatant display of power. Malakai wants him to know that his Evol has grown much stronger than before. Amusing, really. What a hopeless fool. No matter how strong his Evol grows, Malakai could never hope to measure up to him.

"If you think I'll give you any scrap of territory out here, you've got some surprises coming," Malakai scowls.

Sylus's smile never wavers even as Malakai finally attacks. The man sends a massive wave of force flying towards Sylus. It uproots half of the veranda with its might. Splintered wood and debris are launched into the air. Invisible hands grip the larger pieces and use them as weapons, firing them in Sylus's direction. But, none of it even ruffles Sylus's clothes. As the shockwaves and hurtling pieces of wood and metal pass him, a shield of black mist keeps him protected.

In the aftermath, Malakai stands still, fury marring his features. His fists are clenched at his side. The air fills with screams of the Mythe's patrons as people run out of the building in a stampede. The gun fight and now this must have been a catalyst to cause mass panic. Their centerpiece destroyed, their auction thwarted, and much of their manpower extinguished - this could not have been a worse night for Noxis.

And still, it was not enough. Sylus had neglected these upstarts long enough, and now Ellara was paying the price. Tonight would be their last, once and for all.

More men funnel out of the doorways to the veranda. At Malakai's command, they open fire. Blasters, guns, and rifles blast and tear apart the quiet snowy eve. Bullets of all shapes and sizes soar through the air. Ignoring the ensuing chaos, Malakai lifts his arms. With a howling and groaning of shattered wood and rending metal, he lifts a colossal chunk of the roof off the building. With a flick of his wrist, he rips it completely off and away. Another gesture and the massive thing flies towards Sylus. As it's hurtling in his direction, black mist wraps around the object and dyes it blood red. None of the bullets hit their mark, and by the time the other object reaches Sylus's shield, it's burned to a crisp. A snap of Sylus's fingers finishes it off, transforming the rooftop into nothing but ashes.

The men around Malakai balk, their faces draining of all color as they comprehend the power they've just witnessed.

"Is it my turn?" Sylus asks, tilting his head. He pulls a small device out of his pocket. "I'd love to play a few rounds with you, but I'm somewhat pressed for time."

He pushes the button in his hand.

Malakai's eyes widen. He realizes what's about to happen and launches himself off what's left of the veranda into the murky water of the river below.

A moment passes.

And then the world goes up in flames.

One by one, blinding explosions rip and tear into the night club, illuminating the surrounding night like fireworks.

More screaming as people shriek and stampede over each other to evacuate. They slip on wet and icy concrete, tripping over falling bodies and tearing at one another's clothes. Sylus watches them kill and maim each other in their haste to get to safety.

Human cruelty never ceases to amuse him.

His watch buzzes on his wrist. He frowns when he sees Luke's name on the caller ID.

Wrapping the mist around himself, he teleports some distance away and takes the call.

"Boss," Luke says, his voice tense. "Boss, you better come quick. The Lady isn't going to last much longer. We've got her in the Tub, but that shit that spilled all over her is eating her alive."

Sylus ends the call.

He looks to Mephisto's crows flying above and calls to his companion.

Ensure things are clean here, Sylus commands.

Mephisto agrees.

With one final look at the array of explosions still going off behind him, Sylus vanishes into the night.

#love and deepspace #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace fanfic #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148446469#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2

When Xavier had mentioned that the Mythe was a luxury club, my mind automatically conjured images of the places I'd been to with Sylus in N109. The clubs he'd taken me to made visitors feel like they'd stepped into an alternate dimension. Spotless marble floors, walls adorned with the latest technological advancements, automated bartenders, glowing drinks of every possible flavor and combination, and a crowd full of people who were clearly the cream of the crop when it came to power and status.

In those places, each word exchanged was code for a business proposition. Each gesture had to be watched, dissected, and analyzed. Each brokered deal carried a hefty price, whether it was money, lives, or power. A vibe of danger buzzed in the air. One had to expect a fight to break out at any time. With all the different factions vying for supremacy in the No Hunt Zone, no visit to a venue was free from risk.

Compared to all of that, the auction event at the Mythe is quite a disappointment. Had I never seen the clubs at N109, I might have been impressed. All in all, it's a beautiful party. But even to my untrained eye, the furniture looks outdated; the lights are plain and dull; the music is calm and mainstream. The staff is very much flesh and blood, rushing around the ballroom to serve their guests. Still, the patrons seem to be enjoying themselves, smiling as they hold their drinks and mingle with each other.

"Where do you want to start?" I ask Xavier after we blend into the crowd. Hidden behind a large white statue of a regal dragon, we discuss our plan of action. First, we'll scan the room and see if we can pick up any more information on LUMINIS. Then, Xavier will clear an exit for our escape and return in time for the auction. Fortunately, we are not in a rush. We have a few hours to work with.

Deciding to stick together for a time to avoid suspicion, we circle the room. A few people engage us in conversation, but we don't linger too long in any given spot. I'm impressed at how well Xavier fits in. Though typically quiet and introverted, his speech is effortless and fluid as he maintains small talk with the strangers we encounter. He uses lingo and terminology completely foreign to me, making me wonder just how much I don't know about his past.

After roughly an hour, everyone is settled into their drinks and food. A beautiful woman dressed in an elegant black gown comes center stage to play on the regal pianoforte in the corner of the ballroom.

"I think this is a good time to part ways," I whisper in Xavier's ear.

He nods. "Try not to draw any attention to yourself," he warns me.

"I'll be a fly on the wall," I promise him with a smile.

The look he gives me is dubious. "You couldn't be if you tried."

I start when he reaches for me and smoothes a stray lock of hair away from my face. Something tickles, and I realize that he's attached a low profile earpiece to my right ear. When I instinctively reach to feel for it, he takes my hand in his and places a gentle kiss on the back of it. I can't help but blush.

"How do I use it without my watch?" I ask him.

"It's one way. I'll call if something happens." His eyes grow cold and serious. "Are you ready?"

"I am. Everything will be fine here, Xavier. Focus on staying safe."

After Xavier and I separate, I start to mingle with the guests, making my way to a rather extravagant buffet table. At least this area looks well tended to; the array of food is incredible. There's an impressive selection of meats, cheeses, salads, and other delicacies. I even spot some black caviar, which is supposed to be completely extinct now in the culinary world. My stomach growls, but I can't risk eating too much in case we need to fight our way out. I don't want anything to impair my fighting capabilities. But, I'm only human. Despite my very valid line of logic, the dessert table calls my name. I pause before a rainbow of options, trying to decide between a few types of cakes, pastries, and other sweets.

"I would recommend the Ganache Cake with raspberry glaze," a voice says to my right as an elegantly gloved hand reaches over and points to one of the pastries I'd been inspecting. My heart jumps into my throat, my face snapping up to see who is speaking. It's a tall man, roughly Xavier's height, wearing an obviously expensive tailored mauve suit. Diamonds sparkle on his collar chain. Soulful violet eyes look back at me through a silver mask and matching hood. He makes a graceful gesture in the air, bending one arm and keeping it behind his back.

"I hear the chef was flown in from Linkon especially to make this treat."

The floor seems to dip beneath my feet as my eyes and ears attempt to reconcile what I'm seeing and hearing. I stare at the man before me, shaken and unable to reply, for his voice sounds too familiar and his eyes are ones I know too well.

But, it can't be.

Impossible.

The person I'm thinking of is gone. Stolen. Ripped from me, just like my grandmother.

"Are you alright, miss?" the man asks when I stare at him as though I've seen a ghost. I feel the color draining from my face. "Miss?"

I balk again; his voice is unmistakable. Fighting to maintain my composure, I reign in my hope and elation with an iron fist; I force myself to smile.

"Forgive me," I say. "You just remind me of someone I once knew."

The stranger smiles back, and my heart nearly shatters. The way his lips curve is familiar too. I'd know that smile anywhere, especially since my nightmares often brought it back to haunt me.

I gasp. Stumble. Before I can control myself, I'm grabbing the man's sleeve.

"Caleb?" I rasp. "Caleb, is that you?"

The man blinks and tilts his head to the side. There is absolutely no recognition in his gaze. "Miss, I think you might have me confused with someone else."

It can't be him. Caleb was always teasing me and calling me names. There is no universe in which his voice would be this cold when speaking to me. If he had survived the explosion somehow, he would have found me. He would never look at me the way this man is doing now, like a complete and total stranger. I need to control myself before I cause a scene and break our cover. I can already feel eyes on us.

The mission.

LUMINIS.

I have to focus on the mission.

Pulling back my hand, I take a deep breath. "Yes, I'm sorry. I may have had a bit too much wine."

My thoughts drift to Xavier. How I wish he was beside me now.

"Are you here on your own tonight? The gentleman you walked in with earlier does not seem to be keeping you company."

It bothers me that he noticed. It meant others had noticed, too.

"He stepped out to explore the merchandise," I look around, for effect. "I'm certain he will return shortly."

"Then, until his return, perhaps you would honor me with your company?" He proffers his arm to me.

I want to laugh. Suddenly, all of this seems entirely too ridiculous. I give the man my best version of a smile to hide the pain I'm feeling. Caleb would never speak this way. Formalities were something he was allergic to. He would have hated this party, too. Wearing a mask was not his style, and -- I glance at the man's suit -- I couldn't even imagine my adopted brother wearing anything except casual clothes and his pilot's uniform.

The lights dim around us, and classical music begins to play. Elegant and mellow, a slow waltz. Xavier and I occasionally practiced dancing in case we needed to go on missions like this. I am fairly confident in my skills, but I don't want to dance with this guy. Shifting my weight between my feet, I look around one more time for my partner. Where is he? He'd left over an hour ago. Surely he was able to finish his reconnaissance by now.

Unless something hadn't gone to plan.

I ache to check my Hunter's watch or phone for a message.

"May I have this dance, miss?" the stranger in front of me asks, undeterred by my hesitation. I glance at his proffered hand, cornered. Refusing outright would look suspicious. I can't risk drawing too much attention to myself when I have no idea where Xavier is.

"Certainly," I nod, putting my hand in his and allowing him to lead me to the dance floor. A few other pairs break away from the tables and bars to dance as well. Despite my reservations, my partner is a fantastic dancer and leads like a pro. More proof that he couldn't possibly be Caleb, for my brother hated dancing and often made fun of me in our youth when I was interested in taking classes.

Following this man's lead is effortless, about as simple and fun as it was in my practice sessions with Xavier. He, too, was a natural at things like this.

The stranger holds me close enough for me to smell his cologne. It's nostalgic and familiar somehow. Apples come to mind. Fresh apples with a hint of spice.

"What may I call you?" the man asks, his voice like salt on raw wounds. It hurts to hear him speak despite all the exercises in logic I've just done.

"You ask a lady at a masquerade for her name?" I tease.

"No, my lady. I said 'what may I call you?'" He spins me around. As I come back into his embrace, he leans in so I can hear him over the music. "For example, if it would please you to call me by the name you mentioned earlier, you may do so."

His coy flirtation disorients me momentarily. "No, I'd rather not," I frown.

"Well, then, you may call me Malakai," he murmurs, pulling me in closer. "I, too, am here expecting someone. But, I was not expecting you."

"Expecting me?"

Malakai spins me around again as the song crescendos then comes to an end. However, he doesn't release me even as the music fades and ramps up into the next song. I have no choice but to go with the flow at this point. We continue dancing.

"It's rather dangerous for a lovely creature like yourself to be alone in this kind of place, isn't it?" he asks.

"I can take care of myself," I insist. "And I am not alone."

I don't like being this close to him. It makes me uncomfortable. His cologne is pleasant, and his hands are warm. He holds me respectfully and does not violate the boundaries of dance partners. But, my gut is telling me to get away from him immediately. I still can't stand the sound of his voice. No matter how much I tell myself that this isn't Caleb, the resemblance is just too uncanny.

This kind of confrontation with one of the still festering wounds in my heart is just too soon. Not even a year has passed since his death, and I'm still grieving. I can't calm down, and the anxiety is starting to unbalance me. Claustrophobic, my body tenses as I try to maintain the maximum distance between us. I pray that the song will be over soon; it seems to last an eternity.

The music finally stops. Still, Malakai doesn't release me. He bows gracefully while holding my hand. His eyes meet mine; deep violet. So much like Caleb's, but different. Caleb had never looked at his own sister with such a heated gaze, like he'll devour me if I'm not careful.

I feel sick.

"Thank you for the dance," I bite out. "I'll be going now."

When I try to pull back, his grip tightens painfully on my hand. "Don't leave so soon, my lady. I have some business to attend to and would love for you to join me."

I can't really process the situation at this point. Some man who looks like a clone of my dead adopted brother is openly expressing his interest in me in the middle of a critical mission. And I -- supposedly a strong and resilient Hunter -- feel like I'm about to vomit all over his very expensive suit, diamond lapels and all.

"There you are, dearest," a low voice cuts through my misery like a ray of light in a deep tunnel. A strong hand wraps around my waist and pulls me back and away from Malakai into a very warm circle of arms. I look up to see Xavier above me. His cobalt gaze searches my face, and I lean into him. If I don't, my knees will give way.

Malakai's gaze moves between Xavier and I. "This must be your plus one," he says without hiding his disappointment.

"That's right," I nod. "Thank you for the dance. I hope your business concludes successfully."

Xavier leads me from the dance floor back to the desserts display. He sits me down at the most remote table in the room; it's a two-seater corded off in the VIP section which he accesses with a code stamp on his wrist. I don't ask how he managed to snag one of those. At this point, all I can feel is massive relief. To be away from Malakai and to see that Xavier hadn't gotten in over his head.

"Did you find anything out?" I murmur after the waiters bring us a set of drinks.

"The auction will begin shortly. Unfortunately, the product we need is one of the last ones to be presented."

When I give him a blank stare, he covers my hand with his own. "Ellara, you're deathly pale. Are you alright?"

"That man, he..." I hesitate. I haven't spoken with anyone about the deaths of my family since it happened. Zayne had recommended that I go to therapy, but I never did. I feel safe broaching the subject with Xavier, but...perhaps another time. "He made me really uncomfortable."

"Did you get his name?"

"Malakai. Does it ring a bell?"

Xavier shakes his head.

"How was your reconnaissance?"

His eyes darken. "We have a complication."

I don't like the look on his face. Not at all.

"What is it?"

"The LUMINIS isn't being sold alone," he says in a low tense tone. "They've captured and poisoned a Hunter. She's part of the package." A beat as he hesitates one more time. "It's the girl from the lab who comes to your apartment sometimes."

My eyes go wide, and I grip my glass so tightly that my hands shake. My thoughts scatter, piecing together his description.

No way. Tara? These crooks have somehow managed to kidnap my best friend? How? When? Just yesterday, she was waiting for me at the lecture in the hotel with Lois. I remember seeing some missed calls from her on my phone earlier, and my heart sinks. I should have checked her messages. I should have taken her calls. While I was distracted with Sylus, I probably missed a call for help. Guilt worsens my nausea.

"That's impossible. Are you sure?"

Xavier's silence is all the confirmation I need. His brows furrow. "We can't wait for the auction. The chances of being able to steal the LUMINIS and rescue the girl are slim."

"When you say poisoned..."

"It's the typical presentation of toxicity we've seen in other victims. Looks like they gave her a pretty heavy dose. Her pulse was erratic, and she was completely unresponsive."

My body breaks out in cold sweat. "We have to get her to a hospital," I choke out. "If we wait too long, she could go into a coma."

Xavier suddenly stands up and walks around the table, kneeling beside my chair. "I need you to pretend you're feeling sick. I'll take you to the back, and we can go from there."

At this point, I don't have to pretend much. Xavier helps me up, and I lean on him, acting as though I've had too much to drink. He escorts me out of the ballroom and into the adjoining hall. Once out of sight, we sneak into a storage room.

"Do you still remember the layout?" Xavier asks. "Down the hall, first door on the left, down three doors, right turn and first door."

I nod and grip both of his arms. He's checking something on his watch, but I force him to look down at me. "Xavier. Listen to me. You have to get Tara out of here, even if I have to stay behind and follow you out later."

His expression remains neutral, but I see the unease in his eyes. He steps over to me, his features ice cold. When he speaks, his voice is lower than usual.

"You're asking me to leave my partner behind on a mission?"

I shake my head and take a step back. "No. I'm asking you to save my best friend. I can handle myself. You know that."

He takes another step forward, then another, until my back is pushed up against a metal shelf. My request isn't what he wants to hear, but I could care less. Tara's life is the highest priority now. Refusing to let him intimidate me, I straighten my spine.

"Please, Xavier. Save her."

He doesn't answer me, and I prepare myself to force his compliance. How would I even do that? I've never had to try. I don't recall ever disagreeing with him on any point during a mission. We've always functioned on one wavelength. But, the stakes are different tonight. I can get out of here on my own, but Tara could die if we don't get her medical help quickly.

"And how do you plan to get out of here?" he asks.

"I need to see what I'm working with first. Let's get to the holding room."

We regroup and prepare to move as swiftly and silently as possible. Our luck holds out. We don't run into anyone on the way. Once at the door, Xavier presses his wrist against the scanner and unlocks it.

"We'll have company soon," I warn, yanking off my glove and checking my watch. "We need to move quick."

The holding room is the size of a ballroom itself. Xavier leads me around piles of crates, boxes, chests, and Protocore cases to the very back. When I see Tara lying limp and silent in a padded coffin, I rush over to her without a second thought. I don't dare make a sound, but I check her pulse and feel her face. She's cold; so very cold. I can barely feel her heartbeat, and she's white as a sheet. She's wearing Hunter formal-wear, which means that Noxis must have captured her on the way to the symposium.

Beside the coffin is a Protocore case with a beautiful onyx-colored glass vial inside. I recognize the pattern on the bottle. It's LUMINIS, alright. The largest amount I've ever seen packaged at once. I glance at Tara and take one of her limp hands into mine. In that moment, my decision is made.

"Help me, Xavier." I turn so my back faces him. "Get this dress off me. There's a hidden zipper under the lining at my nape."

I don't wait for him to heed my plea. With swift motions, I start getting Tara out of her Hunter uniform. I need to change clothes with her quickly. There's not much time until the auction begins. When that happens, this room will swarm with staff and potentially agents of Noxis.

I'm focused on the task at hand so much that when Xavier wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him, I nearly jump out of my skin. I look up, confused at what he's doing.

"Xavier? What's going on?"

His grip on me tightens. A beat. Then -- "You're going to take her place?"

His voice sounds completely alien. I've never heard it dip like this, not even when he was angry.

"It's temporary. I need to get her in my gown so you can carry her out. Nobody will recognize her because I've had a mask on all evening." I pat his forearm. "It wouldn't be the first time someone needed to be carried out of an event like this for drinking too much."

"And your plan of escape?"

"It'll be easier for me to move in her clothes, anyway. I can sneak out with the LUMINIS." I point to my temple. "Don't worry. I remember the layout."

"The case is too large. How will you carry it?"

"Let me worry about that," I give him a smile full of a ray of confidence I'm far from feeling. "Please, get Tara to a hospital." I turn to face him, cupping his face with both of my hands. "Trust me."

His palm covers my left hand. He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. A furrow cleaves his brow; he looks pained. When his eyes open next, they're burning with blue fire.

"When did you become this reckless?" he asks. Before I can reply, he pulls me into a tight hug. He pulls the earbud off my ear, replacing it with the one he's wearing. "Use the earpiece. Keep me updated. As soon as I'm out, I'm going to send for backup."

"Alright," I say, my voice quivering. Adrenaline is starting to flow through my veins, and my hands tremble as I return his gesture of affection. Against my ear, his heart is racing.

Taking one final deep breath, he pushes me away and turns me around, getting to work on removing my dress. There's no time for embarrassment. I don't give the awkward situation a second thought. Xavier helps me out of the gown, holding my guns as I change into Tara's uniform. I pull the gown onto my friend's limp body and secure the mask on her face.

"Don't worry, Tara," I whisper. "I'm going to help you. I won't leave you alone again."

Xavier easily lifts her petite form onto his back as I pick up the LUMINIS case. It's heavy. Much too heavy and bulky to take with me. It doesn't seem like I have much choice. I have to take the bottle out and carry it in my arms if I have any shred of hope in getting out of here without being seen.

When everything is set, Xavier and I share one final glance. We bump fists.

"Everything will be alright," I tell him.

With that, he turns and pads out of the room, leaving me alone in the darkness. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. I close my eyes, reviewing the layout of the building one more time in my mind. Just two hallways. That's all that stands between me and the emergency exit. Xavier already made sure it was clear and open. I just needed to get there without being seen.

I unholster Sylus's gun from my thigh and hold it in one hand, cradling the bottle of LUMINIS against my chest with the other. Though the gun is much heavier than my normal blasters, I'm not concerned that the extra weight will interfere with combat. I pop out the clip and double-check that all parts are working as they should. Hours upon hours of relentless training ensure that my motions are second-nature. At this point, the only thing that can stop me is my moral compass. I would prefer not to shoot anyone today, but I will defend myself if I have to.

I check my watch before I head out.

8:39 PM

The auction starts at 9:30.

I need to hurry.

I move as fast as I can down the halls. My success is a combination of luck and paranoia. Several times, I'm forced to dip into a closet or bedroom to avoid a passing Mythe staff member. Only once do I see a pair of suspiciously dressed masked men passing by. I don't dare to wonder if these are agents of Noxis. Stopping for even a moment could get me in serious trouble.

At last, I make it out of the emergency exit and onto the Mythe's veranda. It's an old structure that could have used an update a decade back. A pergola acts as a canopy, strings of golden lights hanging from it to give the area a cozy atmosphere. It's a short climb to the bottom via a rickety old fire escape. I holster my gun so that I have a hand free to use for this purpose. My body shivers in the cold winter wind; I wish I had been able to bring a jacket or some kind of winter gear. Unfortunately, I'm just going to have to suck it up until I can get to shelter. Determined, I brace myself against the chill.

Then, just as I hike my leg over the ledge to begin my descent, my luck runs out.

Voices drift to me on the freezing winter wind. Clamoring and shouting. Instinctively, I crouch down behind one of the larger furnishings and cease all movement, my senses honing in on what's happening on the veranda. But, it's too little too late. As a bright beacon of light shines down right on top of me, I realize that I've been spotted.

"Target is in sight!" a man shouts into the watch on his wrist. "Permission to engage!"

My ears ring as the sound of gunfire envelops me. Bullets fly in my direction, and I'm only saved from instant death because I find a defensible spot behind a massive stone sculpture. I reign in my fear, telling myself that this is no different from all the times I've fought Wanderers who shoot fire or ice from their mouths. Shielding the LUMINIS with my body, I draw my gun again and return fire as much as I can.

I hear a few pained screams.

My body moves on instinct.

Stand up. Aim. Fire. Duck. Wait.

Repeat.

Again and again.

Until I have to drop my first gun and get my second.

Until that one is also spent.

With three bullets left, I huddle in my corner and shiver. I don't know how many I've killed or injured. But, no matter how much screaming I hear, the bullets keep flying. It's never-ending. Desperate, my eyes dart to the fire escape. Two solid rolls can get me there, but I'll be vulnerable when trying to jump over the ledge. I need a way to buy myself at least a few seconds.

"Cease fire!" someone shouts. The bullets suddenly stop. "Ellara Fireborne!" the same voice shouts over the howling wind. "Lower your weapons and come out peacefully! If you do, you will be spared!"

Come on. Really? How stupid does this bozo think I am?

Still, I don't have much of a choice. My only option now is to feign surrender and try to escape another way. My knees shaking, I stand up. There's at least six men barricaded behind a row of beer barrels on the other side of the veranda. All of them are pointing guns at me.

"Lower your weapon and come with us quietly," one of faceless men demands.

Adrenaline takes over again. I push my rising panic deep into the back of my mind. Looking around, I try to identify the biggest threat among the men. If I waste one of my last bullets on anyone, it needs to be the leader. Maybe getting rid of him will cause the moment of confusion I need to get away. I lower my hands as though I plan to put down my gun, bending my knees.

As soon as I'm low enough, I drop the rest of the way down and fire at my target. His arm explodes in a shower of blood, and he falls to the ground in a heap. The others start clamoring, but they hesitate to shoot. I manage to fire off two more bullets before one of them finally grasps the situation and fires back.

I lose track of what's happening.

I hear a scream.

It sounds like my voice.

Pain explodes in my shoulder a split second before I hear the bottle of LUMINIS in my arms shatter. Glass buries into my neck and cheek as I'm physically thrown backwards from an overwhelming force. The burning fragrant liquid sprays all over my arms and torso. As I hit the ground and stare at the churning dark sky above, I feel it seeping through my clothes onto my skin.

Get up.

Stand up.

Right now.

You can't die here.

A voice is screaming at me.

Still mine.

Get up! Get up! Get up!

Without conscious will, I roll to my side and try to stand. Something hits me in the stomach so hard I see stars. A push on my shoulder. Blinding pain. Through bleary vision, I see a masked man above me pointing a gun at my face.

Something feral takes over. If I'm going to die here, I refuse to be shot in the head. I refuse to die like a dog. No. If these men want a piece of me, they're going down with me.

When the man turns to shout something over his shoulder at his cohorts, I push off my bent leg, rolling and kicking him in the kneecap as hard as I can. A sickening crack rends the air; his leg bends in an unnatural direction, and he crumples to the ground with a howl of agony.

Xavier had forced me to practice my self defense and hand to hand combat in the last few months. Not to mention, I'd had a few private lessons with Sylus himself. I'm grateful for that as two more men launch themselves at me. I use my smaller stature to my advantage and manage to knock two of them out with kicks to vital parts of their bodies. As soon as I see an opening, I dash for it.

More men funnel out of the building towards me. I double back, but someone catches my wrists and pins my arms behind my back. Another pair of hands forces me to the floor, pressing my cheek into the rotting wood of the veranda. I scream when a stun gun bites into my arm.

My vision goes dark.

"Get over here," a voice above me growls. "Hurry up!"

My head is spinning, but the shock wears off enough for me to move. I kick and lash out, wishing now that my Evol wasn't so useless in situations like this. If only I had Rafayel's fire or Zayne's ice. If only I was as strong as Sylus.

But, there's no point in wishful thinking now.

I have to fight for my life!

I wait for the man holding me to lean down. Thanks to the mesh fabric of my uniform sleeves, I manage to wrench my wrists free. Immediately, I turn and kick the man above me right in the chin. He goes down hard, his lower jaw digging into his tongue with a gush of blood.

"Don't kill her!" someone else commands. "We're supposed to bring her in alive!"

I don't have time to scramble to my feet before another man takes his place. He puts his full weight on me to hold me down. I buck and thrash, trying to get traction with my heels on the concrete, but it's useless. Barely restraining me, the man turns his face to someone behind me and shouts for them to get the "needle".

In the haze of fight or flight, time slows.

I suspect what the "needle" might be. Likely the same stuff used on me all those months ago in N109.

These men were trying to capture me. But, why? If this was Noxis, what use did they have for me? Did they intend to use me for the LUMINIS project? Did they know about the Aether core in my heart?

I had to assume the worst.

If I gave up now, I was going to be killed. No questions asked.

The man's hand is within reach of my mouth. My disgust only lasts a split second before I yank on him and sink my teeth as hard as I can into his hand. He screams and lets go of my wrists. I reach up and dig my fingers into his eyes. His screams intensify; the weight lifts off my chest.

I scramble to my feet before something hits me across the face.

Hard.

So hard that my vision goes completely black.

I fall to the ground, dizzy and disoriented.

Voices rise in a wave around me, but I can't make out what they're saying. My ears are ringing.

Somewhere far up above me, I hear a murder of crows cawing in the night.

I blink. My vision slowly comes back into focus.

A man stands above me. His eyes are filled with fury. He takes a step, and pain knifes up my wrist. I hear a crack. He'd stepped on my hand and is crushing my watch with his heel. That done, he kneels beside me. Once he's close enough, I spit blood into his face.

He lifts his hand to strike me.

But, the blow never comes.

The wind around us picks up speed. A searing thrumming tears through the air, a sort of vibration resonating deep within my bones. The strings of lights hanging from the pergola above me shake. One by one, the lightbulbs pop and explode. The cawing of the crows intensifies, nearly deafening now.

All hell breaks loose.

Men scream.

The deck beneath me shakes as bodies are strewn about.

More gunfire.

More screaming.

Something smells like melting skin.

The coppery tang of blood in the air.

Footsteps to my right.

Slow. Deliberate.

The clicking of dress shoes on moist wood.

The man above me lets out a sound of pure fright as he looks in that direction; his face morphs into a picture of terror. He scrambles back.

"It's him. Oh God. Spare me. Spare m--" black and red mist wraps around his neck. I can see the indentations in his skin, like ghostly fingers. He gurgles and gags, his face turning red then purple. Saliva pours from the corner of his mouth as his eyes roll into the back of his head. As death takes him, his body goes flying, smacking into the deck with a sickening sound of broken bones and maimed flesh.

The cacophony of crows is so loud now that it's all I can hear.

Or is that more gunfire?

I can't move anymore.

I can't feel anything -- not pain, not my fingers, not my legs.

I can smell the LUMINIS on me.

The scent of fresh apples.

It's nostalgic. Familiar.

Then, everything falls silent.

A face looms in my line of sight. Beautiful, haunting red eyes.

A demon from a painting.

Something presses against my cheek.

As everything spirals into a blur, I can only think that I wouldn't mind going to Hell if this demon was my escort there.

#love and deepspace #sylus/mc #sylus x mc #sylusposting #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148364599#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Previous Chapters: Ch 1

When I open my eyes, black and red are the first colors that I see. Still disoriented from sleep, I blink to clear my blurry vison.

Before me are the bold patterns on the back of Sylus's trademark pitch black jacket. His back is facing me, the jacket draped over him like a flowing shadowy cape. He's already tall and intimidating, but the padding of the shoulders and thick material add to this perception. His figure and presence are a harrowing sight to any that would cross him.

In the dim light of the single lamp, his silhouette reminds me of the first time I saw him in N109. Back then, he looked like the Grim Reaper to me, a monster jumping from the shadows to devour me. Or a demon coming to claim my soul. Back then, I wanted to murder him as revenge for my family's deaths before I knew he wasn't responsible for their tragic end. Incredible how perceptions can change over time - how even a deep fear can transform into desire and yearning.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed buttoning his silver cuff links and folding his sleeves elegantly to his elbows. The corded muscles in his forearms shift as he does so. His long legs are crossed; he's wearing matching black pants and freshly polished dark shoes with long pointed toes. A thick black leather belt wraps around his hips, a gun clipped into a holster over his lower back. Two more guns are attached to straps crisscrossing around his torso. As I watch, he removes one and opens the clip, checking it over.

I stay as still as I can, wanting to observe him a little longer. I do my best to control my breathing, though I have a hunch that he is well aware that I'm awake. To this day, I've never been able to catch this man off guard.

His watch beeps a few times, and he adjusts the gold and silver wristband. He takes his phone out of his pants pocket, thumbing through a series of screens. His starlit hair falls over the side of his face, hiding his eyes from my view. This sight reminds me of the night before he left me to go to His Highness's palace. Preparing. Predicting. Making plans A, B, and C.

His silence is filled with anticipation; likely already calculating all the possible outcomes of whatever he is about to face.

Slamming the clip back into the gun, he deftly flips it and tucks it away.

The same cold terrifying aura surrounds him now as it did before he went to that party. An icy void. Or like metal left out to freeze in winter. If I touch him now, will I be frozen, too? Will I fall into that nothingness? How could a man with such an aura look at me the way he did last night? Touch me the way he did? Incite the kind of fire his hands and lips had ignited deep within my body?

Another beep from his watch. He pushes a button on his phone and speaks into the microphone.

"Luke. Kieran. Is everything set?"

"Ready, boss," one of the twins replies.

"Bring the car around."

"Yes, boss."

Sylus hangs up the call.

My heart sinks, and an unfamiliar fear takes root.

He's leaving, going somewhere dangerous again, and even though he's exceptional and powerful, I can't stand the possibility of him being hurt. Looking at his broad shoulders, I clench my fists helplessly. This is his choice, and his life. I can't change who he is, and I wouldn't want to. If I did, he would no longer be the Sylus that I...

...that I...

...what, exactly?

I sit up, smoothing mussed dark hair out of my face. I'm wearing his sweatshirt and nothing else. It comes down to mid thigh and still smells like him. My ruined clothes are somewhere in the bathroom, abandoned in the frenzy of lovemaking that was a natural sequel to our encounter in the closet. Just remembering it sends a thrill through my body. A hunger for him, still unsated, stirs in my blood.

I shuffle over to him on the bed, wrapping my arms around his back. I can't reach around his shoulders, so I settle for his firm waist. My heart fluttering nervously, I link my fingers together at his front and rest my head between his shoulder blades. It's bold, I'll admit. I have no idea if what happened between us meant anything to him or not. For all I know, we were just two pent up people in the right place at the right time. If he wants to walk away from this, I wouldn't stop him. Though, it would definitely hurt much more than I care to admit.

The rough fabric of his jacket presses against my face. I recognize the texture. This is material used in Hunter armor. It gives some defense against fire and acid. It also helps guard against electric shock. He must have had it sown into these clothes for some protection, a testament to the daily danger crossing his path. My grip on him tightens reflexively.

"You're leaving," I whisper. He doesn't react for a minute, and I start to pull back. I unlink my fingers, my heart vulnerable, exposed.

Just before I can move away, he catches my hand and slips his fingers between my own. Turning my wrist, he brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. Tingles and goosebumps cover the right side of my body. I shiver as he kisses my wrist and then my palm. At last, he turns to look at me. His ruby eyes shine with a hint of mischief, the corner of his mouth tipped upward just enough to make my heart flutter.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. "Looks like you won't be catching a cold after all."

I blush. "You...kept me plenty warm."

His thumb strokes mine as he looks deep into my eyes. His gaze slips to my lips. I dare not move, still afraid that any moment now, he will choose to walk away.

"I would enjoy keeping you warm a little longer," he says, as though catching onto my insecurities.

I lick my lips self-consciously, fascinated when his pupils dilate just like before. "I would also enjoy that."

"Sadly, I have a prior commitment tonight."

I sneak a peek at his guns. "I noticed. Are you expecting heavy resistance?"

"Nothing of note." His smirk belies a darker truth.

So, yes, an ambush. At least.

My stomach twists into a knot. I'm being ridiculous. This is Sylus's day to day. He didn't start jumping into gun fights when he met me; he'd been doing it for who knew how long. Honestly, guns were probably the most tame of all the things he faced. His skin was flawless and unmarred, but the scars of his climb to the top are visible in other ways.

"You could use some backup," I frown.

"No need."

My brows furrow as my anxiety burns like acid in my gut. I grip his hand, hard.

"Sylus, it's still the middle of the day. Maybe you should take me with--mmph..."

His lips close over mine, and he pushes me down to the bed. His overwhelming body heat and tantalizing scent envelop me like a cocoon as he coaxes open my mouth and slips his tongue inside. The intensity of the desire that grips my body shocks me. Frustrated with this delicious but intentional diversion, I push back to break away from the kiss.

"I'm serious," I tell him hotly, "take me with you so I can--mnn--Sylus--" He doesn't let me speak, pulling me into an even deeper kiss, breaking my resistance until I'm no longer pushing against him. Knowing that he will have his way, I surrender. My hands weave into his hair, my thoughts scattering. He moves away when he's satisfied that he's subdued my rebellion. On his terms, as always.

I'm breathing hard, my cheeks flushed. He's amused; gives a chuckle at how flustered I am. His regard simmers with something unfathomable, face hovering just above mine, eyes eclipsing my universe.

"You have your boring symposium to get to, remember? I've diverted you enough for the moment." He steals one more ravaging kiss. As he leans back and away from me, he slips a black credit card onto the nightstand. "Go get what you need to be comfortable."

I cross my arms, frustrated. "I'm fully capable of buying myself clothes."

"I'm responsible for ruining your remaining garments," he says, his eyes twinkling. "It's the least I can do. But, suit yourself." He stands up. "That card's also the keycard to this room and the elevator. You'll need it if you want to go anywhere."

My heart lurches in my chest.

This is it.

He's going to leave.

And, I have no idea when I'll see him again.

I rush to kick my feet over the side of the bed, but I stop myself from moving any closer. My pride has taken enough hits in the last twenty-four hours. I'll be damned if I start acting like a needy brat just because we slept together a few times. A thousand questions hover on the tip of my tongue.

When are you coming back? Where are you going? What happened between us? What does this mean for us now?

I ask none of them.

Now is not the time, and I'm honestly not sure when the right moment would be.

I freeze when he closes the distance between us and tips up my chin. He rests one hand in his pants pocket, his posture relaxed. His expression is neutral, bottomless ruby eyes holding a galaxy of stars. The way he looks down at me sharpens the angle of his features. Once again, his intense singular focus makes me breathless. His thumb pads across my bottom lip, dipping inside my mouth, grazing across my tongue. My knees go weak, and I struggle to keep standing.

"Do me a favor and stay out of trouble, kitten," he says softly. His chiseled brow furrows, and he wraps an arm around my waist, lifting me up and against him until my feet no longer touch the ground. An inescapable gravity pulls us together until our noses touch. His hot breath caresses my face. "Keep this fire lit for me. When I come back, I'll make sure to satisfy it."

He sets me down carefully. With a final glance at me, he turns then steps out of the doorway, out of the penthouse suite, and out of my life.

In the wake of his exit, I walk to the bathroom and shiver. My arms wrap around my body. I give myself a few minutes to process everything that's happened in the last day. Naturally, it's not enough. But, I don't have time to sulk. I need to keep moving. To keep breathing.

Is this what emotional and physical entanglement feel like? I'm not sure I'm up for it if that's the case. I much prefer the quiet days of spinsterhood where the biggest challenges of my day were finding clean underwear and making sure I had enough frozen meals stocked in the freezer. This roller coaster is exhausting.

I shiver again when I recall Sylus's hands on me. His lips. His fingers. His labored breaths and sounds of pleasure as he thrust into me in the shower. The water cascading down my skin as he bit into my shoulder and left a lovely mark to remind me of him.

Oh God...

I bring both of my palms to my burning face and turn on the cold water, splashing it over my cheeks.

My phone is still sitting on the sink where I left it. Picking it up, I look through my numerous unread messages and alerts.

Zayne reminding me to check in with him after I return to Linkon.

Rafayel sending me an e-vite to his latest gallery gala.

A few missed calls from Tara and Lois.

And there, at the end, an odd message from Xavier.

Taking a deep breath, I give him a ring.

The holo screen on my watch flashes with a bouncing music note for a moment before my partner picks up the phone.

"Ellara," his soft baritone comes through the speaker. I can't help but smile. I love hearing his voice. When I'm so far from home and so far from normal, hearing him anchors me. It's incredible how close we've become over the last year and a half of working together.

"I'm safe," I assure him with a smile. "I'm sorry I haven't called or texted."

"I heard you lost your luggage. How is the symposium?"

"I couldn't say. I missed the first day. But, I'll be attending the lecture tonight."

"It's unusual for you to miss any kind of event like this. Weren't you looking forward to this for a while?"

His blue eyes are sharp and steady. Xavier has always been able to see right through me. He knows something is up, but he'll never pry unless he feels I'm in danger. I try to keep my voice even, feeling guilty for not being entirely truthful with him.

"I still am. I just ran into some unexpected difficulties. After I buy some clothes, I should be able to join everyone."

He hesitates, his lips pursing.

"What is it?"

He rubs his chin. "I'm not sure if I should mention this, to be honest."

Excitement sets my heart racing. I know this tone of voice. "Xavier, what have you uncovered?"

More hesitation.

"Xavier..."

He sighs.

"I've found rumors of a rare protocore auction happening right where you are. The source of intel indicates it could be a connection to Noxis."

My breathing accelerates.

"And LUMINIS," I finish for him. He nods, and my hand instinctively tightens its grip on my phone.

Xavier and I have secretly spent the last four months investigating a substance known on the street as the "modern love potion". The premise is simple: a perfume so incredible that it can cause physical attraction and even obsession towards the wearer. In short, a powerful aphrodisiac that metabolizes through a person's Evol channels, making it highly effective and also extremely dangerous. It's official prototype is known as LUMINIS, a liquid in aerosol form. When coming in contact with skin, it acts like a toxin, causing side effects that range from temporary mind control to fatal poisoning.

The name "Noxis" has been heavily associated in intel with its distribution, and we theorized that it must either be the organization or individual responsible for its creation. We still don't know why it was created or what the motive for its distribution could be. After all, why create a drug so unpredictable that it will murder its user? Worse yet, it seems to interact in some way with Protocores and Wanderers, attracting monsters and mutating them. If Noxis was allowed to continue production, who knew what they would do or what chaos it would cause? Many innocent people had died already.

Unfortunately, there was also some intel that suggested a leak within UNICORNS. In addition, my grandmother's name was mentioned among some of the documents. I had no idea if finding more about LUMINIS could lead me to her and Caleb's real killers, but Xavier and I couldn't risk tipping them off and potentially losing the trail. Therefore, we kept the investigation under wraps, integrating our efforts into existing missions to stay off the radar. We were exhausted, but breakthroughs like tonight made everything worth it.

"Where is it?" I ask. "Can you send me the coordinates?"

"It's close. There's a luxury nightclub called the 'Mythe' less than two miles from you. I've secured a pair of invites."

I scowl at the screen. "Why didn't you lead with that?"

Xavier scratches the back of his head. "You've been excited about this symposium for months. I thought..."

I realize where he's going with this and stop him mid-sentence. "Xavier, you're already here, aren't you?"

He blinks at me for a moment, his handsome face unreadable. Then - "I'm in the lobby."

"I'll be down soon. Give me thirty minutes." Cutting the call, I grab Sylus's black card off the nightstand. My eyes catch something I didn't see before. It's a coal black gun resting against the pillow on the bed. Did Sylus forget one of his weapons? Somehow, I can't imagine that being the case. Though it makes me uneasy to use a weapon I'm not familiar with, I take it with me anyways. I have no idea what's in store for me tonight, and having a good weapon could mean the difference between life and death.

As the elevator takes me down a rumbling path to the fourth floor, I begin to reroute the evening's plans. I'm thrilled for the distraction. I'd been worried that the symposium lecture wouldn't be enough to keep my thoughts from straying to Sylus. But, sneaking into an underworld auction with my partner to find out more about our private investigation into LUMINIS sounded like the perfect way to keep my mind off of the King of N109.

A quick search on my phone labels a popular local store called "Proxima" as the best place for a quick and affordable glow-up for special events. Checking my watch, I note that it's roughly 3:00 PM. Self-conscious, I tug Sylus's sweatshirt farther down my legs. I worry about people seeing me in such a state, but miraculously I manage to make it to Lois's room without encountering a single person. I use my Hunter's watch to unlock the door then quickly run to the bedroom. Pointedly ignoring the closet, I pop open Lois's suitcase, hoping I can take advantage of her earlier offer to borrow some clothes. Fortunately, she and I are about the same size. I dig out a spare Hunter uniform packaged in shrink wrap, get dressed, brush my hair, and head downstairs.

Xavier is waiting in the lobby as promised. He's dressed in a sharp black Hunter's uniform complete with heavy boots and gloves. His sword is strapped to his back. He's holding an extra winter coat. As I walk to him, we gently bump fists and share a smile. He drapes the coat over my shoulders and pulls a snack out of his pocket. We start talking and eating as we make our way outside.

"Let me see the invite," I ask between bites. He hands me a beautiful creation on heavy card stock with a holographic element depicting a classic ballroom. Sure enough, this isn't a simple auction. It's disguised as a formal masquerade, and our uniforms are simply not going to cut it.

"First, let's go here," I point to the picture of Proxima on my phone. "We'll need a disguise." I glance at his sword. "We'll have to find a way to get that past security."

"Wouldn't be my first time," Xavier says. There's no concern whatsoever in his voice. "Let's grab a taxi."

It takes us less than an hour to make it to Proxima. Upon our arrival, I can't help but be taken aback. The sleek silver and gold building sports three floors of clothes, barber stations, studios, and other features. It's more than a clothes shop or hair salon. It's an all-inclusive package service which takes you from a day in your pajamas at home to being the star of any kind of event or venue. A young woman greets us at the double doors wearing a pink pencil dress and frilly cuffs.

"Welcome to Proxima," she smiles. "Here, beauty drives connection. How can I help you two today?"

Xavier gives me a blank look, and I form an apologetic gesture with my hands. "Hello, we are going to a formal event tonight and need to look the part. I've heard you can help."

"Aha!" the woman seems far too happy. "And what time is the event?"

I look at my watch with a frown. "Oh...well...it's in two hours."

"Perfect!" the clerk gushes, startling me. "It's a great thing that you both came to us today. We'll have you both dressed and ready for show time in short order."

She gestures to another clerk in pink, male this time, then turns to Xavier. "If you'll follow Henry, Sir, he will assist you with your perfect Proxima look."

I put my hand on Xavier's arm, sensing his discomfort. "Let's get this over with."

The lady reveals her name is Clara. I let her lead me between different rooms, trying to relax as the clerks fuss over me, worrying about how much all of this is going to eat into my monthly paycheck. I do my best not to look at the price tag of the dress they pick out for me. Sylus had called me out earlier when labeling me frugal, and he was right. I hate spending money on unnecessary things. His black card seems to burn a hole in my pocket, reminding me that I do have an easy way out if this package ends up being out of my price range.

I don't know how much time passes, but it goes by in a whirlwind. There's always at least three people attending to my clothes, make-up, and hair. When everything is said and done, the clerk takes me to a full size mirror. I do a double take, for I don't recognize the woman reflected within. They've dressed me in a floor length blue velvety gown with long semi-sheer vanilla sleeves. The sleeve fabric sports stitched patterns that look like twinkling stars. The cut is lower than I'm comfortable with, but it will have to do. Beneath, I'm wearing thigh high panty hose held up by a contraption I'd only seen in passing while perusing for bras on clearance at my local department stores.

They'd put waves into my black waist length hair and had outdone themselves with my makeup. All in all, I look nothing like my normal self. The woman looking back at me is lovely, even lovelier than any of the times I'd tried to play dress-up with Sylus. Proxima's professionalism really shows.

"What do you think, ma'am?" Clara asks, a hint of pride in her tone.

"I think Xavier isn't going to recognize me," I say honestly.

"He will," she assures me. "This is all you, honey. You come across to me like the kind of girl that's too busy to take care of herself." She pats my shoulder. "Every woman is beautiful. Don't forget to look out for yourself sometimes while you're busy running around taking care of others."

Are those words part of the service? If so, I could have gone without a reminder of my low self care standards.

Xavier comes out next, and I forget how to breathe. The closer he comes, the more my chest constricts until I can't help but clutch at the fabric of my skirt and take a step back.

He's stunning in a white suit with a thick blue silk band wrapped around his slim waist. White leather boots come up to the middle of his shins. A cape is draped over his shoulders with a gorgeous stitched pattern resembling fanning golden swords. The inner lining is the same hue as my gown, strewn with golden lines and shapes that mimic shooting stars. His lapels are adorned with golden swords to match his cape and belt buckle, and a lovely sapphire and gold collar chain accents his long and graceful neck. Completing the ensemble is a pair of onyx gloves on his hands and a pauldron on one shoulder; both are decorated with silvery metallic articulations.

Standing in front of me like this, he's not much shorter than Sylus. Yet, somehow, I'd never really realized how tall Xavier was. Or how broad his shoulders were. Even his typical soft and gentle features look sharper, older. In the gleaming warm light of the studio, I can see flecks of dark azure in his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. The blues of his outfit and the sapphire of his collar chain accent them too well. They'd styled his lovely golden hair, too.

All in all, he reminds me of a painting Rafayel had shown me once of a holy knight standing at the head of an army. I can easily imagine Xavier jumping into battle, saving innocents, and stealing the hearts of young maidens in this get-up. How is it possible for him to suddenly look so dashing? He'd always been handsome, but now I wasn't sure I was comfortable standing too close to him.

When he catches sight of me, his eyes widen and his lips part. He takes me in then gives me a heartbreaking smile. Tilting his head, he reaches a hand out to beckon me to come closer. With numb fingers, I take it, marveling at how I've never noticed so many things about this man in all the time we've known each other.

"Are you satisfied?" he asks, tugging me close. "As far as disguises go, this might be a little over the top. Though," his eyes soak me in from head to toe, "I'm not really going to complain in this case."

I'm glad Clara dolled me up. Really really glad. For tonight, at least, the little frog that I am can dream of becoming a princess on this knight's arm. Just for tonight, I can run with this illusion. Gathering my courage, I turn us both to face a nearby mirror. We match perfectly. The clerks had taken our colors and styles into consideration and coordinated well.

"We look like a lady and her knight out of some kind of movie," I giggle. My cheeks are still hot and flushed.

Xavier's gaze softens. "You look so lovely," he murmurs. I turn to look at him, my heart in my throat. Simultaneously, he reaches out to touch a lock of my hair. He ends up cupping the side of my face, and for a moment I am immobilized.

"It's just the make-up," I stammer. "And maybe the dress."

"No," Xavier disagrees. "It isn't." His gaze is unfaltering, straight, honest. He meets my gaze head on, just like he does every other challenge I've seen him face. I've never known Xavier to lie about anything. He doesn't say anything he doesn't mean, and he would rather be silent than tell a lie.

Beyond embarrassed, I clear my throat. "Right, well. We got what we came for I guess."

"Just need our masks now."

"Allow me to help!" Henry chimes in. He appears out of nowhere, melding from the shadows. "Actually, I was hoping the madam would choose." He prances up to us with a box full of all kinds of beautiful masks. They are all a shade of blue, but the styles vary greatly. Some have feathers while others are made of silk or porcelain. I spot I pair I like right away - two identical silver masks made of shimmering satin.

"These," I smile, taking one out of the wrapping and turning to Xavier. "May I?"

He nods.

I reach up, standing on my tip toes to loop the silk string of the mask around his head. Ever helpful, he bends down a bit. I'm still trying to get my heart to stop racing. But, as I pull back and away, he smiles again and I'm back at square one. I try to breathe deeply as he ties my mask into place.

At last, we're both ready.

Clara comes out with a small tray, and I steel myself in preparation of seeing the price tag for this adventure. However, she glides past me to Xavier, who taps his Hunter's watch against the little machine on the tray and gives her a nod.

"Did you just...?"

He shrugs. "It's a work expense, isn't it? No one will question it."

It's easier to take his word for it than worry about it now. Besides, I don't really want to think about it. I just want to enjoy this illusion for a little while longer. Who knows what will happen when we get on site? All of this could be over in a heartbeat. To give ourselves more time to prepare, we take a taxi to the Mythe. Xavier's cape allows him to hide his blade from view, and my skirt is roomy enough to allow me to strap Sylus's gun to my thigh. That done, Xavier hands me one more blaster. It's heavier and larger than what I'm used to, but I manage to strap it to my other leg. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, we review a holographic layout of the Mythe that Xavier downloaded to his watch.

Once outside the building, we both share a glance.

"Are you ready?" Xavier asks.

I nod. "As ready as I can be."

"Let me take the lead. I'll scan the room first and come back to your side when I've come up with an exit strategy. Once someone wins the bid on the LUMINIS, we'll have a short window to find the merchandise in the holding room." He squeezes my hand. "Remember, if something goes wrong, go to the checkpoint we talked about."

I thread my fingers with his, and we squeeze each others hands. "Roger. Let's get this sample and get out of here in one piece."

#love and deepspace #sylus/mc #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #sylusposting #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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kyndredravenstories · 6 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 1

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148132144

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

"Trapped in the abyss, I long for you in this delirium. There's so much to say, but I'm silent. Too much time has passed since I held you, and now I fear that my love will just break you. So, into the darkness I go to protect you. Yet, no matter where I roam or how far I fall, half of my heart is always with you. "

Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong people. Wrong everything.

Wrong wrong wrong.

I never should have volunteered to go on this trip!

Over and over, that mantra loops in my mind, cranking up the pressure of my rising anger so tight that my teeth grind together painfully. Sulking in a petulant silence, I wrap the worn hotel quilt tighter around my shoulders to keep out the chill. The furnace is blasting, but it's not enough to warm me up after a thorough dousing in freezing rain.

I'm on high alert despite my misery. My gaze never strays from the man across from me on the narrow couch. Wariness and suspicion keep my back and shoulders tense even as I shiver in my sodden and frozen clothes. My eyes follow his long fingers as they absentmindedly manipulate the phone screen held between a pair of large hands.

Sharing the raggedy couch with me is none other than Sylus, though his demeanor is a far cry from mine. Despite the glowing and hissing Linkage wrapped like a manacle around his wrist, he sits with his legs crossed and his body relaxed. His blood red eyes take in a virtual Auction on the TV while his free hand makes sales and purchases on his phone.

A gun sits beside him on the armrest, but it doesn't concern me. This man needs no physical weapon to be terrifying. It is his Evol that's the true threat. That, and his ruthless and calculating nature. It's not a struggle to remember just how cruel and merciless he can be, even as he looks perfectly divine and statuesque while sitting still.

Yet, it's not his past or his reputation that has me wringing my hands and forcing myself to breathe deeply in order to stay calm.

It's an internal moral battle that has me on edge - one that's been tormenting me for months.

It's the struggle between knowing I am less than three feet away from the most dangerous man I've ever met and also admitting that I find him impossibly disturbingly attractive. Not just his looks. One doesn't need to have good vision to appreciate this man's allure. It's the conundrum that makes up all that he is.

A dangerous man who has taken lives many times before. A man that forced me to point a gun to his chest and shoot. A man whose mere name is enough to make monsters fall in line. Yet also, a man that's saved my life. A man who smiles at me and teases me. A man I've danced with on more than one pleasant occasion.

A bottomless, tempting, mystery.

Outside, a storm howls and thunders just like my thoughts. Periodic flashes break through the murky grey skies, each noise grinding on my nerves. I've had a bad day already; worse than bad. But, I dare not wonder how it could possibly get worse. That's what got me in trouble at the train station in the first place when I stepped out into a blizzard without any kind of weather gear to learn that the staff had misplaced my bags and luggage.

I'd wondered, then, how things could get worse.

Precisely one hour after, fate dropped this confounding man into my path. Then, precisely ten minutes after that, our Evols had locked us together.

With a crack of lightning, my patience snaps.

"Oi...Sylus..."

He doesn't look at me as he answers. "What is it?"

His voice is soft, like velvet; he sounds bored, though I'd never been able to read any of his thoughts or predict any of his actions.

I hate how calm he is.

I hate that despite running beneath the rain to make it to the hotel, he seems to be a lot more dry than me. His hair isn't dripping wet like mine, though his grey designer sweatshirt does cling to his muscular chest more than I'm comfortable observing.

I clear my throat.

"You've spent the last two hours calmly bidding on who knows what while we're trapped here. You've bought enough weapons to stock an armory. Just how the hell are you so relaxed?"

Still tapping away on his phone, Sylus maintains a calm and neutral expression. "It's not like there's anything I can do to remove this at the moment," he wiggles his Linked arm, tugging on my own manacle in the process.

I grind my teeth to the point of pain, forcing down my irritation as water drips from my hair onto the quilt. "Fine. Time for you to answer some questions, then."

"Ask away," he hums in that composed and arrogant tone that always riles me up. He sounds about as interested in this conversation as a tired Hunter recruit at orientation. And no wonder; despite the murky weather, it is only 2:00 PM. For Sylus, it's the middle of the night. He's likely exhausted, but I'm not feeling particularly empathetic at the moment.

"First question. I travel to the Arctic, 3688 kilometers away from the N109 Zone. I lose my luggage and get caught in a ferocious rainstorm on my way to the hotel. I then bump into you. Why?"

He finally glances at me, and my heart leaps into my throat when the emptiness in his crimson orbs twinkles with a hint of amusement. The corner of his full lips turns up just enough to transform his expression from annoyed to mildly entertained. On Sylus's face, this looks like a kind of hunger; like a hawk catching sight of a mouse.

"I'm also curious," he drawls, making me squirm in my seat. "I would have thought that the Hunter's Association would take better care of their employees."

I glare at his flippant reply, and he rests the side of his head gracefully on his hand, leaning against the nearby armrest.

"I don't often take vacations, and yet here I saw a familiar face. A lost little dove that needed my protection, if you will."

I huff, wrinkling my nose. "I already told you. I'm the farthest thing from a small animal that needs looking after, especially by a predator like you."

The amusement lingers in his gaze, and I press on.

"Second question. I'm here for a symposium with the Arctic Hunters in this hotel. What about you? Are you here to turn yourself in?"

"You didn't book the entire hotel. I have the money, and they had a vacant room. Why can't I stay here?"

His calm and steady logic sours my mood even farther. Seething now, I raise my Linked arm.

"Third question. Why does this blasted tether's duration increase every single time?" My anxiety eats away at my bravado, and my voice wavers. "What if it doesn't go away when the event starts later tonight?"

Sylus doesn't seem bothered by that prospect. He shrugs, his eyes fading back to those of a bored bystander. "We can go together. Probably."

I can't help it. I snort at his proposal. "Oh yeah, I should definitely introduce my Hunter friends to the renowned leader of Onychinus."

"All you can do is pray for divine intervention, then. Remember piety is key," he advises, his voice overflowing with sarcasm.

I give him a withering glare. "That's rich, coming from you."

Feeling defeated, I stare at the Evol Linkage that's impossible to cut. "This thing didn't bind us together for no reason. There has to be a way to break it."

Sylus tilts his head, frowning. "How? You were asleep the last two times it untethered itself. You even pinned down my arm. It was very inconvenient."

Heat rushes up into my cheeks at the memory. I try not to think about how close I've gotten to this man over the last half a year. To say he makes me uncomfortable is an understatement, mostly because it is not the kind of discomfort one feels when one is close to an enemy. Instead, it's the kind of feeling that makes it impossible to meet his gaze directly for too long. The kind of frustration that has my eyes lingering over his long-legged muscular form far too often.

I hate being close to him. Hate the way his hair, even when mussed, falls perfectly over the side of his face. Hate the sculpted line of his jaw and the attractive ridges and dips of his neck and his shoulders. My fingers squeeze into my palms, remembering how it felt to wrap measuring tape around him during our escapade in the boutique a few weeks back.

"You've been staring at me quietly for some time. Isn't there a fourth question coming?" He leans back against the pillows, and I have to wonder for the hundredth time whether this arrogant and sly man can actually read my mind.

"You have a point, Sylus," I concede. "What if we recreate the circumstances of when the Linkage disconnected itself? We should be able to figure out the trigger, right?"

Sylus glances at his phone, dismissing me. "That sounds more like superstition than science. Do you expect me to lull you to sleep?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

He lets out a short breath, rubbing a furrow between the wings of his graceful eyebrows. Pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose, he waves his hand in the air. Black mist rises up and swishes around the room, shutting all the blackout curtains and leaving us in near darkness. The only light remaining is a small desk lamp. He glances at me, curled up in my quilt as far from him as possible. His eyes glitter as he motions for me to come close.

"Alright, then, sweetie. Time for bed."

There's a sudden intimacy in his voice. It cuts me to the quick, stealing my breath and numbing my mind. I can hardly formulate an immediate response.

"I'll get water on you," I grumble, glad for the darkness; glad he can't see how red my face must be. That's another thing I hate. His pet names for me. At least, I try to hate them. Lately, hearing them makes my heart beat just a little faster.

"I'm not perfectly dry myself," he says, running a large hand down his chest.

"Still..."

"Then you should change. Unless you want to catch a cold."

"My luggage was lost, remember?" I wrap the quilt tighter around myself. "Besides, there's no way I can change while I'm chained to you."

I inwardly curse as I shiver again. This time, Sylus notices. His smile grows, and he gestures for me to approach again.

"Come on, kitten. Last time I checked, I'm not going to melt if I get some water on me." His voice deepens as he adds. "I'll even warm you up."

I squirm in my seat again, now entirely against moving anywhere near him. Something still hangs in the air between us, the same charged atmosphere that I experienced while taking his measurements and asking for his help picking out a dress at the boutique.

Seeing my reluctance, he rubs his fingers on his lips thoughtfully. "Alright, then. Suit yourself. But I somehow doubt you can fall asleep when you're shivering like a rabbit in a snare."

My eyes narrow. "Stop comparing me to small animals. It's rather insulting, considering that I fight just as well as you do."

It's a lie, of course. Sylus's power is incomparable, but I can hold my own at his side for the most part.

I try to cross my arms angrily, but the Linkage stops me. Though I yank hard on the chain, Sylus might as well be a boulder. His wrist doesn't move an inch.

"Just calling it as I see it," he continues to tease, his gaze unyielding and unwavering. "The way you look now," his eyes scan me up and down, "reminds me of a grumpy, hungry, and very tired kitten."

My eyes can't help but follow his hand as he continues to stroke his full lips. Hypnotized, I hardly hear it when he asks me a question in turn.

"You are hungry, aren't you? We've been here several hours, and I doubt someone as frugal as you would have splurged to buy something on the train."

My stomach chooses that moment to let out a rather loud groan of protest. Mortified, I sink into my quilt and look away from him. Sylus chuckles softly.

"I can order room service, at least."

"No!" I rush to stop him when he reaches for his phone. As I lunge for his hand, he grabs my wrist and pulls me into his lap. It's awkward. It's embarrassing. He's as large as a full grown grizzly bear, and he makes me feel completely helpless and tiny when I'm close to him. It's a thrilling kind of feeling, and one that I also really truly want to despise...

...but can't.

I squirm to get away from him, but he holds fast. In moments, I'm settled in his embrace, left with no options for escape.

"Shall I sing you a lullaby?" he asks sarcastically.

"Please don't. Being draped over you like this is bad enough."

We sit in silence for a time, my heart beating faster and faster as his body heat begins to seep into me. He's like a furnace, and soon I start to overheat. His chest undulates with deep steady breaths. His toned abs burn into my back; his huge arm wraps around me, shackling me in place just like the Linkage on my wrist. I can smell his aftershave, and it does terrible things to my rational mind.

"Sylus, I can't do this. I'm uncomfortable. The couch is too small. Let's try something else."

"As if," he sighs then yawns.

With his hand laying casually on my stomach, I can't relax at all. In an attempt to steer myself back in a morally acceptable direction, I run one of my fingers across the back of his hand. His palm is like two of mine. His skin is a mixture of smooth expanse and rough spots at points where it would normally rest against a weapon in combat. His knuckles are rough, too. Realizing that I'm taking liberties, I scramble to move my hands away and mutter an apology.

"Did you find something interesting on my hands?"

"Just remembering how much blood is on them," I say spitefully.

Instantly, I regret my sharp tongue. I squeeze his thumb apologetically and nearly jump out of my skin when his free hand strokes the ends of my hair.

"Then, I suppose it's a good thing you're not squeamish." His voice is softer now, but I don't trust myself to look up at him.

"This really isn't going to work," I tell him again. "Please, Sylus. Let's' try something else."

"I give you an inch...and you take..." his voice drifts off.

Silence, then.

"Sylus?" I whisper in the darkness.

No way. He did not just fall asleep while in the middle of a sentence. The tension drains out of me all at once, and I rest my head against his chest so I can see his face. Sure enough, his eyes are closed, his face relaxed in repose. He's resting the side of his face on the hand that was just stroking my hair, long black lashes fanning out on his regal cheekbones.

He's devastatingly handsome, like an artist sculpted his features from the finest alabaster.

My chest tightens. All my frustrations aside, to think that a man like Sylus could fall dead asleep in a strange room with a strange woman tethered to him is unthinkable. Either his confidence exceeds my expectations or...

He trusts me.

I let that sink in for a minute, frustrated when the knowledge leaves me even more confused.

In the last six months, we've been through quite a few ordeals and crazy situations together. He's become a rather constant presence in my life, enough for me to worry when I didn't hear from him for several days. Enough, too, for me to dream about tending to his wounds.

But, even after spending all that time with him, I'm still processing all the things he makes me feel.

He scares the hell out of me. But, I feel absolutely safe with him. I can rely on him in a pinch. If I ask him to, he will clear obstacles out of my path. But, too often, he ends up being an obstacle and a source of strife himself.

I stroke the back of his hand with my fingers, making circles as I mumble to myself. "Every time we meet, something bad happens. Usually for me. You must be the harbinger of trouble."

"Hmm?" he stirs, opening his breathtaking red eyes to give me a disapproving look. His brow furrows, sensual lips curving down in mild irritation. "Stop chattering and go to sleep," he rumbles down at me. "This was your idea, after all."

We lapse into silence again, but nothing changes. Now that my head rests against his chest, I can hear his heartbeat. It's slow and steady, but it sounds different than any heartbeat I've heard before. It's almost like there's an echo behind every beat.

His necklace catches my eye, and I can't help but bring my hand up to fiddle with it. I toy with the chain for a moment then slide my finger upwards to the neckline of Sylus's sweatshirt. It's just a normal piece of clothing with a cut that isn't any lower than an average shirt of its type. But, the way it fits on Sylus is borderline criminal. The casual cut leaves his neck and collarbone exposed.

Entranced, I tap the pad of my finger against the base of his throat. His neck is muscular, but also long and graceful. A steady pulse flutters against my fingertip, and I quickly lower my hand, shocked that I allowed myself such liberties. I can't help it, though. This man absolutely confounds me, and despite my best judgement I can't help but want to know everything about him.

I take a deep breath as quietly as I can.

"Sylus, I can't sleep."

"I can," he retorts calmly. "If you'll let me."

In the face of his indifference, my irritation grows. I want to retaliate, but while I'm thinking about a way to do so, one of his eyes opens to look at me.

"Today's patience is wearing thin," he frowns. "Though I don't dislike your explorations, it's better if you just calm down and go to sleep."

A large hand presses my head against his shoulder. My cheek brushes against his sweatshirt, releasing a cloud of scent. Manly. Clean. Sharp.

Calm down? As if!

My heart is thundering in my chest now, and I don't think I can stand being this close to him for another second. I renew my efforts to squirm out of his grasp, my actions greatly annoying my oversized human pillow. In a single powerful motion, Sylus gets to his feet and lifts me into his arms. Not like a princess, but like a sack of potatoes that he practically tosses over his shoulder.

"Put me down," I demand, but he doesn't bother to listen. Two or three steps with his long legs takes us to the bed. He throws me down onto it then leans over me, pressing my Linked wrist into the mattress. His leg settles between mine, and I stop breathing entirely. With my free hand, I push against his shoulder.

His other hand takes control of my wrist, and he guides it down onto the mattress next until I'm completely pinned beneath him. His grip doesn't hurt. He's somehow careful not to cause me pain, yet he is as unyielding as a dam against rushing water.

"You've been letting these hands run wild for a while now," he murmurs, his gaze unreadable. "Is it my turn for exploration?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, breathless.

"Should I do to you what you've been doing to me for the last hour?" His crooked smirk returns. When he tilts his head, some of his bangs fall forward, giving him a rough and tumble or "just out of bed" kind of appearance. Alarm bells go off in my head. I have to get away.

Now.

I'm a Hunter.

He's a king of the criminal underworld.

There could not be a worse match-up in all of history.

But, the thought of pushing him away now hurts. What I really want isn't escape. I'm no fool, even if I am terrible with love and with relationships. The closest I've come to intimacy in the last few years has been a battery powered quick fix lying in a dusty box under my bed. Even so; even without having a wholesome understanding of what it means to yearn for someone, I can no longer deny that I want this man more than I've ever wanted someone before.

It's unhealthy. It's ill advised.

"Please, Sylus," I breathe, and his eyes slip to my lips. His dark pupils dilate.

"What are you asking me, kitten?" he murmurs, letting go of my wrists to slide his hands up until our fingers wrap around one another. "The terms of a contract should be clearly stipulated."

"Let me go," I beg him.

He doesn't miss a beat, as though he already knew what I was going to say.

"That's not what your eyes are asking me," he counters.

"It's what I'm asking," I insist, my heart squeezing painfully.

Something yanks on the Linkage, then, and before I can react, the same force pulls Sylus towards me. I gasp as he presses into me. In a blink, he brings up an arm to rest on his elbow, keeping most of his weight off to avoid hurting me. He sighs, glancing at the Linkages. Somehow the chain between our wrists has disappeared. The manacles are interlocked, forcing Sylus and I into even greater proximity.

"What have you done now?" he groans. My body grows taught at the vibrations of his voice in my ear. So soft. Languid. Like a lazy afternoon in the sun.

"N-Nothing," I insist. "You threw yourself at me."

"Then how do you explain this?" he gestures with his head to the Linkages.

I honestly have no good answer. Right now, it's all I can do to stare at the corner of the ceiling so I don't meet his gaze. "I don't know what happened, but they're like two snakes trying to devour each other," I mumble.

Desperate, I try to move myself out and away from him. To my horror, the manacle around my wrist tightens even more. I yelp at the painful pressure.

Sylus's low chuckle ruffles the fine hairs at my ear. "You know, sweetie, the more a snake's prey tries to escape, the more tightly it gets strangled."

I shiver, closing my eyes. "That's within your control, then, isn't it? Please, you need to move first. Let me go."

He shifts marginally, his shoulders tensing. "Hm, looks like someone is about to walk in."

I finally look at his face. "What? Walk in where?"

"I'm saying we're about to have a guest."

"Stop trying to scare me. Do you enjoy being an as--"

Past the wall of the bedroom, I hear the sound of a scraping key card over the white noise of the TV. My heart leaps into my throat, body breaking out in cold sweat. Oh no! I'd forgotten that we have assigned room mates on this trip, too. It must be Lois, the young Hunter girl I'd met at headquarters a week ago. If she sees us like this --

I buck beneath Sylus's hold, now putting everything I have into getting him off of me. Fortunately, he decides to cooperate. I manage to push him off me and scramble to the edge of the bed. I look around wildly, my heart pounding. The hotel room has only one exit, which means we need to hide. I spot the closet a short distance away.

"Get in," I hiss violently, yanking on our Linkage and stuffing us both into the tiny space. I slam the door shut and struggle to breathe. At this point, I'm in serious deep water. Even if nobody knows that this is the the Sylus, I will have a witness that saw me bringing a man to my hotel room on a business trip. My reputation will be ruined, and I will likely face temporary suspension. Just imagining the spreading rumors makes me want to vomit.

If someone sees me like this, I won't be able to clear my name even with a redemption arc.

"Ellara!" a cheerful voice resounds from the living area. "Are you here, girl? I can't believe you missed the first part of the presentation!"

I stay silent, chanting prayers to whatever deity would listen in my mind.

"I heard you lost your luggage. Poor thing, but you can borrow some of my clothes if you want." Her footsteps and voice grow louder. "Tara's downstairs waiting, come on!"

My back cramps, and I look down. In my rush, I sat down in an awkward position on the ground. Something hard digs into my back and shoulder blade. Worse yet, Sylus is right on top of me. His size makes this space feel like a broom closet. Our noses are nearly touching, and his breath fans against my face. Some of his hair tickles my forehead.

For a split second, I lose myself in his red eyes.

Not a romantic red like a fading sunset.

Red like fresh blood.

And right now, those eyes are filled to the brim with displeasure.

Memories flash of my first few days with him, back when he tried to use those terrible eyes against me. Of the voice in my head begging me to devour him. The way he used his frightening black Evol to move and manipulate my body to his whims.

I struggle to inhale. Claustrophobia assails me.

Panicking, I push my hand against his chest.

"Sylus, move. I can't breathe."

"Ordering me around, are you?" He glances at my hands; his frown intensifies. "Why are your hands shaking?" He seems genuinely bothered by my fear, but I don't have the capacity to process that right now.

I yank on our Linked wrists for emphasis. "I can't move until you do," I tell him.

Still frowning, he accommodates my request. He shifts his body, wrapping his arms around my waist. I gasp when he lifts me up and sets me on top of him so his legs can stretch out and give me room to move. Somehow, I end up in his lap yet again.

"No, Sylus. This isn't--" his hand settles over my mouth. Huge and hot. He presses a finger to his own lips in turn.

"She's coming. Shh..."

Lois calls my name again, and this time she's in the doorway of the bedroom. My palms grow sweaty. There's no way she won't look inside the closet. My hands tremble where they grip Sylus's shirt. He glances down at them again, then at back at me. His fingers force me to look at him.

Being the sole focus of his gaze is an experience I can't put into words. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff faced with a huge red tidal wave. Any moment now, the wave will push me back, and who knows whether I'll fall to my death or find salvation?

Leaning forward, he whispers in my ear, "If you're anxious, just close your eyes."

His hand slips from my face, but his thumb grazes my lower lip in passing. His huge palm presses me forward to rest against his chest.

His heartbeat pulses against my ear, body heat enveloping me like a blanket.

Ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub...

Steady.

Slow.

Just like it had been when he was sleeping.

My trembling slows, breathing evening out.

His free hand reaches out and presses against the door right as Lois approaches the closet.

"Ellara? Are you here?" I hear the rolling of luggage wheels. "Well, no matter. I'll just leave this here for her for when she gets back." She tugs on the closet door. Again and again. I squeeze my eyes shut; it feels like she'll never stop.

"Why isn't this opening? Is it stuck?"

She pulls harder, but she's no match for Sylus's strength. If she wants to open that door, she'll need to tear it off its hinges.

"Gotta call maintenance, I guess," she sighs. Like salvation, her phone rings. She picks it up, engaging whomever it was in conversation and padding back out of the bedroom.

I breathe out raggedly.

Beneath me, Sylus makes a sound of amusement.

"Your mental fortitude is terrible in situations like this," he observes.

"If we're seen--"

"So your reputation matters more to you than your life?" he asks. There's no judgement in his voice, just curiosity. "You were never this afraid when we were faced with a hail of bullets and assailants."

This is different. Completely different. But now is not the time to try to explain it.

Sylus smiles. "If we're discovered, I suppose we should just confess."

"To what, exactly?" I hiss defiantly.

His fingertips snake down the nape of my neck to the base of my spine. My eyes go wide when those same fingers sneak beneath the edge of my shirt and slip inside. In a blink, he's caressing my bare skin. I suck in a breath as my whole body breaks out in goosebumps.

"What are you...doing?"

Without answering, he keeps going. His fingers move up. Higher and higher, until his knuckles graze the underside of my bra. Splayed open, his fingers span almost my entire back.

Our eyes lock, devouring each other much like the Linkages around our wrists.

A single moment hangs between us in time.

And then his fingers slip beneath the barrier between us.

My breath hitches in my throat.

My skin pulses with anticipation.

My lips part, my mouth opening on a protest. His crimson eyes sear into me, daring me to speak, daring me to try to stop him. They aren't asking for permission; there's really no need. He already knows what my body wants, and he's prepared to ignore my lips trying to stop him.

Outside, Lois' voice fades away. Keys jingle. The front door to the hotel room slams shut. Silence fills the air, broken only by the humming of the furnace and my labored breaths.

I can't tear my eyes away from Sylus's lips. They're so close now. It would only take a single motion on my part, a single adjustment to my posture to taste them.

With a herculean effort, I keep myself still.

When our eyes meet next, his are hooded and burning. A volcano simmers beneath - boiling lava waiting to erupt.

"So what's it to be, kitten?" he teases. His fingers move a little higher, pressing up against my breast. "Should we continue?"

"Nn..." I could hardly recognize my own voice as a needy mewl rips itself from me. I slip forward, just that much closer. My resolve is breaking, bit by bit. Or maybe mile by mile. My body grows restless, sore, impoverished.

"Your hands are cold as ice, but you feel quite warm here now." He rocks his hips against me, and I close my eyes against a pang of dizziness. Warm fluid floods my panties, my body betraying all my morals.

I whimper when the tips of his fingers nudge against my nipple. A need so deep, raw, and painful slams into my groin that I can't help but throw my head back. His huge hand supports me as I sigh in pleasure, keeping me from falling.

A breath against my chest and then cold air as my shirt is lifted up. Lost in wave upon wave of desire, I gasp when his lips press right between my breasts. He plants a hungry kiss there. Then another, his silvery hair tickling my skin. Hungry, but gentle. So very gentle.

He breathes me in then exhales, and the rolling of his hot wet breath has me gripping him tighter.

Then he stops. Leans back.

In a haze, I glance down to find him smirking, his sharp eyes narrowed and challenging. He tilts up his chin in that arrogant way of his, daring me to protest.

We have to stop. This is madness.

Really, Ellara? Making out with the Sylus in the middle of Hunter symposium in a damn closet?

I need to push him away. Push him away. Push him away.

I wince as the Linkage tightens painfully on my wrist. Bruising. Aching. Punishing me for going against the wishes of my heart.

"Sylus, we can't do this," I whisper. "I'm a Hunter, and you're..."

"I'm what?"

"You're the leader of Onychinus..."

"Is that all I am?" he asks, placing another kiss on my shoulder. "Does that title define me?" Another feathery kiss. "Are you just a Hunter? Or are you not Ellara as well?"

"Of c-course I am," I gasp. "B-But...we...this is..."

"Alright, then," he says, his expression still amused. He pulls back, and it feel like someone reached in and ripped out a part of me.

"If that's what you want."

It isn't, and he knows it well.

Anger floods me. How dare he play with me like this? How dare he act like he could stop now when we've already clearly crossed a line? When I need him this much? Furious, I grab the collar of his shirt. Why am I always the one being toyed with? Am I just another amusement to stave off boredom?

I want to shout at him.

I want to wipe the smirk off his beautiful face.

But, more than that, I deeply, desperately need to kiss him.

And so, that's exactly what I do.

I pull him towards me, molding my mouth to his.

He's shocked. His whole body tenses. But, I'm over it. Over all of this. No more stops. No more hesitation. I'm pretty sure I will spontaneously combust if I don't get a taste of him immediately. With a lustful moan, I run my tongue against his lips. He immediately grants me entry, and my mind goes blank as we vie for dominance.

His mouth is smooth and molten hot.

His saliva is slick and sweet.

He tastes like peppermint and heaven.

He tastes like home.

I'd spent so many cold and hollow nights imagining what a perfect kiss might be. Secretly, I thought nothing in reality could measure up.

What an idiot I was...

Without breaking away from me, his fingers move again. I can't hold back a ragged moan as he plays with my nipple and rocks me against him. Gentle, yet insistent. Rhythmic. Constant. His touch builds like a crescendo; my blood surges and sings, breasts seeming to swell as bliss shoots from my chest to my fingers and toes.

I try to move back, nearly overstimulated, but he holds me still. His mouth absorbs my wanton moans as he unhooks the back of my bra with his free hand. At last, we come up for air. I curve into him like an eager she-cat when he palms both of my breasts and presses his mouth to them. My hands bury into his hair, fingernails digging into his scalp.

Worried that I'm hurting him, I hesitate. He nips at my neck, making me squeal.

"I'm not afraid of your claws," he purrs against me. "Do what you want. I won't break."

A pressure grows and hardens against my core, assuring me that despite Sylus' outward composure, he's just as affected as I am. I cry out when he pinches me, nearly cumming at the sound of his deep voice humming a note of approval. He licks his way up my neck.

"All this just from my tongue and lips on you? Looks like my little kitten is pent up."

I let him have that victory. He's not wrong, after all.

I'm climbing to the pinnacle so fast that I'm dizzy, but I've plateaued. My hips begin moving on their own, my body seeking him, searching for pressure - any pressure - to ease the agony between my legs. He knows what I need, but he denies me, choosing to focus on just touches, kisses, caresses. His hands and mouth drive me to delirium until all I can do is hang onto his hair and his shoulders and beg.

"Sylus..." I rasp.

He smiles against my breasts.

"Sylus- ah!"

I almost want to cry when one of his hands glides down my thigh and stops just short of touching my center.

"...need you...need this..." I bump against his growing erection.

"Are you sure?" he breathes, nipping at my ear. "You want me to do you right here?"

"Nnn...yes...yes..."

I shudder when his finger passes over my apex, his touch dulled by layers of clothes. I try to lift myself up, but I'm clumsy, uncoordinated, weak with want. It's cramped in here, and there's no room for either of us to move much. Frantic, I buck my hips and whine. When I reach for the door, Sylus grips my hand and brings it to his lips.

"Patience, sweetie," he coos, kissing my knuckles. "I'll take care of you."

He settles his hands on my hips and lifts me up. The buckle of his pants clinks as he undoes it. Next, he reaches up and tears a hole in my leggings. I'm too far gone for any kind of outrage at my lost garment, especially when his pulsating cock brushes up against my bare skin. I'm so drenched that I slip and slide against him.

His hiss of pleasure thrills me.

I can feel every inch of him as he moves. He's huge, and for a moment I feel a flash of trepidation. Then it passes, and all I can think about is how badly I need him to ruin me right now.

"Sylus..."

His hands squeeze my ass, spreading me wide. "I know, kitten. Breathe."

With that, he slips into me. He's gentle. Slow. Careful. But, I'm still overwhelmed. My thoughts white out. All worries, hesitations, moral tugs of war. Everything dissipates into the breathtaking sensation of him filling me. There's some pain, but its a passing thing. Not worthy of note, not when he pulls me down into a kiss and fills me with his tongue as well. My nails tattoo my ecstasy into his shoulders, my insides squeezing him so tight as I climax that he has to break our kiss so he doesn't bite down on my tongue.

I wiggle on him, wanting him to move, needing to know what it feels like for him to scramble me up inside.

"Easy," he warns. "Are you alright?"

"No," I confess, drinking in the blood of his crimson gaze like a ravenous beast. But I can't find the right words to describe my need. "More," I plead. "Just...more..."

"Reckless as ever," he chuckles, but he's out of breath too.

I watch the Adam's apple move on his gorgeous neck as he swallows. I move my hips again, urging him to take me, break me, whatever he wants. His hands tighten their grip on my hips. I dearly hope he leaves bruises. I don't want to forget this moment for days. Weeks. Not ever. It's so perfect. He's so perfect.

With a snap, the Linkage around our wrists shatters.

Sylus doesn't give it a second glance. The moment we're free, he moves my body around.

"Relax," he breathes into my ear and kisses it. "Turn this way." Without pulling out of me, he shifts us around so my back faces him. I rest my hands against the opposite wall, whimpering when he spreads my legs open and positions me on my knees. He hulks over me, one big hand holding my waist while the other rests beside mine on the wall.

He starts to move, and I can no longer stop myself from making obscene sounds of bliss. Every thrust threatens to split me in half, the friction making me dig my nails into the wall. His cock hits me so deep inside that I swear I'll shatter into a million pieces. But, the pain is indescribably wonderful, and as my body adjusts to take in his size and girth, only pleasure remains.

"Ah...mmn...ah...Sylus...Sylus!"

"That's it," he huffs right into my ear, licking every nook and crevice. "Scream for me." His fingers slip from my waist to torment my clit. I shatter on the rocks, losing track of what's happening. He pounds into me until I feel him start to swell even more.

"Mmn...ah...yes!...please...please...inside me...give me all of you..."

His rumbling chuckle throws me over another edge as he explodes into me. He's breathing hard, his heart pounding against my back. His hips keep moving as white hot cum leaks down my thighs. He nuzzles into the crook between my neck and shoulder. Kissing my skin. Grazing his teeth on it.

We float in a haze, surrounded by our breaths and heartbeats. He doesn't pull out of me for some time, and I try to process what just happened. I'm joined with him in the most intimate way, and I've never felt anything more natural.

His sensual lips rain kisses on my back, his hand stroking my belly, my chest, my arm - helping me come down from the most incredible high of my life.

"Sylus..." I whisper, my arms shaking. "I can't move."

"I have you," he soothes, pressing a kiss to my temple. I gasp when he pulls back. The sound of his belt clicking as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

"I'm going to move us now. Trust me, alright?"

I nod weakly.

The world tilts and spins. Vibrations of Evol pulsate through me. I remember this feeling, though the last time it flowed through my body it was like an aggressive snake. This time, it's warm and reassuring. Sylus's arms wrap around me. I smell that delicious aftershave again. Or maybe it's something else. Maybe this is just his smell.

Just as his kiss tastes of home, his scent smells of safety and security.

Wrapped up in his embrace, nothing can hurt me.

The closet disappears, and before I can make a single sound, Sylus is standing in the middle of the bedroom with me in his arms. He pulls the sheets and blanket off the bed and wraps them around me.

"Two more jumps," he smiles, and my heart flutters at the softness of his gaze. No longer like blood. More like a deep ruby wine. "I'm on the top floor."

Again, my surroundings spin and whirl like a hurricane. Colors blur together. It's disorienting, but I'm not afraid, trusting that the one holding me won't let me fall. When it all settles, we are no longer in my hotel room. Instead, we're standing in some kind of penthouse suite. I blink as I look around.

"Is this your room?"

"Did you want to stay downstairs?" He raises a brow at me.

I shake my head. "No. I guess I'm just wondering why we didn't come here sooner."

"And miss out on nearly getting caught?" he teases.

Again, I give him this one. Despite how terrifying it was when Lois nearly found us, the aftermath was...well...

I can't really be mad at him, and I'm too tired to try.

"Your hands are still like ice," he frowns. "Let's get warmed up." He pads to the bathroom as I poke his chest.

"You're not cold at all, though."

The master bath is a sight to behold. White marble with contrasting black and gold swirls. Frosted glass etched with patterns of rare flowers accents the rich colorations around it. The shower alone is larger than the walk-in closet in my apartment. Taken aback, I'm still marveling at the decor as Sylus sets me down on a nearby loveseat.

He starts when I wince and make a sound of pain. I shift in my seat, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt. Immediately, he's kneeling in front of me, his hand cupping my face. Those deep ruby eyes take me in, searching for the source of my discomfort. My heart races to be the focus of those slanted sharp eyes.

"Was I too rough?" he asks.

My hand covers his. "I'm alright. It's just...been a while." I smile at him and stroke his hair. As he closes his eyes in pleasure at my touch, I'm completely at my wit's end. There's no logic or reason that can stop the tenderness running through me now. There's no reason I can think of to push this man away any longer.

This man.

Not the Sylus of Onychinus.

Not the king of N109.

Just a man.

An incredible, wonderful, and mysterious man.

"A hot bath will help me feel better," I tell him.

He glances at the tub, stopping my heart with his special half smile. "I think we'll both fit in this one."

I pull him down for a long slow and thorough kiss. "Then, what are we waiting for?"

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus/mc #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #sylusposting #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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