Thread Back-Up from forum & discord for the thread "Tear My Faith Apart"
Started originally on FMRP and then finished on Discord
Starring: Faina Parker & Sam Skiles
Written from: 02/02/2020 - 12/26/2020
Total Word Count: 32,812 words

☠ !!! Content Warning !!! ☠

Graphic depictions of violence, suicide attempt, mentions of sexual assault and suicidal ideation at several points, and graphic (but consensual!) mature themes ABOUND

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Faina Parker:

It was in the middle of the night when it started. Faina surfaced from sleep with a heavy groan and grumble by a wet nose on her face. Skully, who took up the empty side of the hotel bed that would be entirely too large to sleep on alone, had ended up basically rolled on top of her owner. The dog was snoring peacefully on her back, Doberman limbs splayed in all directions, and had shoved her nose into Faina's ear.

"Fuuuck, Skully, get off." The petite brunette groaned. The dog had a whole ass side of the bed to herself and yet she had to be right in her space? Faina wriggled and pushed and shoved, but only managed to get Skully over far enough to be able to sit up in bed. And the little shit didn't even wake up!

She put a hand to her head with another groan as the waves of yesterday hit her all over again. The store room at Trinity was a workplace hazard and in her attempt to fix it - rather violently, admittedly - had managed to pull an entire shelving unit down on herself. Nothing broken, but a bandaged gash on her arm from a metal shelf and a bruised shoulder from being hit by a tumbling cargo tote. Madison had given her painkillers and sent her home.

Faina already wasn't a joy when woken up in the middle of the night, but now she was groggy and sore. She must have fallen asleep with the towel of ice chips on her bruised shoulder, because when she sat up the now damp towel slid from her shoulder and plopped in her lap.

Right. Ice. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, giving Skully another shove as she kicked off the covers and got out of bed. The dog snored on, oblivious. She was dressed in nothing but a spaghetti strap tank top and cotton shorts, her totem necklace around her neck; no bra, because even the spaghetti straps hurt like a bitch against the tender bruise. Faded already from black and blue to brown and yellow, thanks to a Shifter's healing, but healing entirely not fast enough for her liking.

Wincing at the movement, she pulled on an oversized button down plaid shirt over her tank top - a guy's, although whose she couldn't tell you because she stole it from the Namaste garage, this is why you don't leave your shit on a random chair - grabbed her room key and the ice bucket, and made her way out into the hallway.

She moved at a shuffling pace, still half-asleep and yawning against the effects of the painkillers she'd taken before bed, and walked down to the end of the hall where a little nook by the stairs held a vending machine and the ice maker. Faina clamped the room key between her teeth, balanced the bucket with one arm, and scooped with the other hand.

When she dropped the scoop, shut the lid, and turned around, it was there. She blinked several times just to make sure it wasn't her groggy vision. Nope, there was a random ass bubble floating in front of her; not transparent like a bubble should be but only a little translucent, light pink and pulsing. It hovered there, a few feet away back out of the nook. Not doing anything.

The only thought Faina could muster half-asleep was, that's fucking weird, and went to move around it. But as soon as she stepped towards it - pop! It burst, splashing her with whatever the pink liquid was inside, which disappeared as soon as it made contact with her skin. The petite brunette yelped and recoiled, nearly dropping the ice bucket and actually dropping the room key from her mouth at the shock. Now she was wide awake.

"What the fuck?!" She exclaimed, to the empty air. Or empty so she thought. She looked down at herself, but there was no trace of any liquid, pink or otherwise. She bent down to pick up her room key.

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Sam Skiles:

"Please don't leave me alone."

The words were a sob in his ears on repeat like a chant, a soft pleading spell that had him pacing in his cage. He had hoped that by moving, by doing something, he would chase the voice away. Yet he couldn't get the anguished face out of his head. Sandra, her features contorted with pain, had wept. For him. Trembling hands had gingerly traced fresh wounds on his arms, loving a part of him that he'd long forgotten how to love.

His own blood had betrayed him, dripping from his claws. Sandra had taken one look at his hands and his arms, his legs, and knew what he'd tried to do. She'd found him there in his cage, blood smeared over his bare chest and streaming down his limbs, huddled against the cold bars and sobbing. His werebeast healing, coupled with whatever Reinare had placed inside of him, forbid him from suffering fatal wounds for long. If he had still been human, his wish to bleed out would have been granted. But the curse prevented a successful suicide.

And Sandra, with all of her wounds and suffering and stitches holding her together, wept for him. Him, who in a moment of weakness, had tried to leave her behind. Alone. With Reinare and the Bloodmare's. The ghoul had bandaged his hands even though he promised that he wouldn't hurt himself anymore - she never believed him and she had every right not to. This time the wraps were tight. He could barely wiggle his fingers. It made pacing on four legs difficult and awkward.

"Please don't leave me," had been her one request as she reached for him through the thick metal bars. "You're all I have left." How it pained him to see her that way... Sam had crawled to her, let her hold him as best she could while he desperately tried to cling to her, hoping that somehow she might hold him together long enough that the desire to end it all bled away. "I won't," The werewolf promised. "I'm sorry, Sandra... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."

Reinare, though she had mocked and punished him, permitted more time with his ghoul friend for a time. And unfortunately, that privilege had run out. How many days had it been since he last saw her? Within his cage, time had no meaning; it could have been weeks by now. But he'd been good. Very good. So he knew that at least, she was being fed. So why couldn't he see her? Sam quickened his pacing, not even pausing when he heard the tall tale sound of a key hitting a lock nearby.

The door opened and light filtered into the room, revealing the man's face. Sam recoiled from it immediately. Light was dangerous. It meant the Aether wanted to play. Darkness was safety. Solace. He retreated to the shadowed parts of his cage, silent as he watched her. What would it be today? Would she dissect him again and put something else in his body? Or would she torture him some other way? He'd already eaten, so it couldn't be that. Normally after he ate, he was alone for hours. Had it been hours already?

Heels clicked on the tile loudly, too loud for his ears, as she approached. "You've been a good puppy, Sam." Reinare said, stopping a foot away from his cage. He didn't reply, not at first. 

"Come here," The Aether stepped closer and extended her hand, palm down. Momentarily watching her suspiciously, Sam slowly crawled towards her, sitting up on his knees to place an obedient kiss upon her hand. There had been a time when he had fought her, when showing dominance over him would have earned his wrath. Times where he had almost bitten off a limb or clawed her. The werewolf had been punished too much to make any more futile attempts. Obeying meant less punishment, both for him and for Sandra.

She smiled at him and lifted her hand. He flinched, tensing even when her hand landed gently upon his head and rubbed. Every cell in his body screamed where she touched, and the beast stirred, listless. "Such a good boy." He hated that purr in her voice. The inner screaming stopped when her hand withdrew.

From her side, she pulled another ring of keys. It was then that he noticed that she was holding something else. Reinare unlocked the cage and he tensed, waiting for her magic to seize him. But it didn't. 

Instead, Reinare pushed open the barred door and stepped aside. He looked at her, untrusting. 

"I think you've earned a little bit of free time, puppy. You are not to leave the hotel, but you are free to roam tonight, and crash in any room you please. I'll even allow you to take a shower. What say you?" A shower... he perked up at the words. A shower and a bed. A real bed, not the cold stone floor of his cage. It sounded... heavenly. Was he dreaming? Watching her cautiously, Sam inched further and further towards the door, stopping in his tracks when she presented her other hand to him.

Clothes. Clean clothes.

"Th-thank you, majesty." He offered, taking the cloth shirt and pants into his arms. A smile tugged the corners of his mouth as he stepped from the cage. His Mistress led him out of the basement and up to the upper levels, where she let him go, free to wander.

It had taken a lot of trial and error, but he finally found a free, open room to claim for the night. Sam had stared at the bed longingly, but quickly made his way to the bathroom, wanting to feel hot water on his back. He'd missed that more than any bed.

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Finally, blessedly clean, Sam - dressed in a white collared shirt and matching pants, with his green amulet tucked beneath - entered the hallway. He needed to walk around. Stretch his muscles. Look around. Explore. And he did.

He explored the arcade, the shops, the bars, the halls. But he didn't know the hotel. It was a maze. He was trying to retrace his steps when he saw it - the floating light pink bubble. Before he could wonder what it was, before he could question if it was something meant to punish him for trying to enjoy his freedom, it burst and he recoiled from it - stumbling down the hallway and into a corner. Sam jumped from the collison, and frantically patted himself down. Yet he felt... Nothing? He wasn't even wet. What? Had it happened? Had he finally gone mad?

"What the fuck!?" He jumped again, startled. The voice had been feminine. And close. Very close. Maybe she'd seen a bubble too? He inhaled deeply - shifter. Dog? Wolf? Sam followed his nose to the lady in question. "Are you okay? Did you see a-" But the woman he found... Was not one he'd been expecting. He'd expected a stranger. Not- "F... Faina...?"

Sam Skiles had never been religious. But the way the light of the hallway created a halo around her head made him think that maybe there were angels in the world. Or maybe not an angel. Maybe something better. Something higher. Yes... It illuminated her figure perfectly, making even her chestnut hair appear golden, and her eyes shimmering pools of sapphire. He knew then that he had to be dreaming. There was no other explanation, and he didn't care. Water stung his eyes. Oh how he'd missed her... 

"Faina... My Faina..." His arms reached for her, wanting. Yearning. All thoughts of Reinare and the Bloodmare's and eve Sandra were banished. No longer could he see his friends' crying face. He saw only the woman he loved. Faina, his Warrior Goddess, was here now. She could make everything better and he would worship the ground she walked on.

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Faina Parker:

Faina hadn't heard the approach on the carpeted floor. Now slightly more awake and pissed off at being attacked by a floating bubble, she straightened and slid the room key into the breast pocket of the plaid shirt, grumbling under her breath. She shifted the ice bucket to her other arm, the cold bothered the bandage, and only glanced over when the man who had appeared out of stairwell spoke to her.

Faina gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. The ice bucket clattered to the floor and sent ice chips spinning in all directions across the carpet. The hallway itself almost spun with them, and she caught herself from stumbling backwards and falling only by the edge of the nook's wall at her back.

Because the man framed in the stark white light of the hallway was the first man she had ever loved, and the first man who broke her heart. And he was supposed to be dead.

It had been a very long time since Faina dreamed of Sam Skiles. They had been near constant in the first year after the Ravagers disappeared from Sacramento and left the then 19-year-old Human with nothing and no one. Countless vague nightmares mixed with sleepless nights in cold hotel rooms, fed by fear and fury on what could have happened, and why her boyfriend sent her out with not a hint of suspicion that something was wrong.

They had returned for a time when Isaac reappeared in her life; but this time vague imaginings turned to grotesque recreations of Sam's final moments as Isaac had witnessed them. They mixed in amongst the others: the psycho stalker who had made her life a living hell for six months, the forgotten memories of the attack that turned her, her first murder of the doctor by the wolf's claws. She warred with herself between hating him and mourning him and wrestled with her hatred and grief even in her sleep.

But after Kievan brought puppy Skully home, her night terrors started to fade. She traded Kievan's bed for Isaac's, and between the one-two punch of Madison and Drucilla, she had been forced to confront her wolf and all the unresolved issues behind it. Things weren't perfect - could they ever be? - but as her found family in Trinity and her relationship with Isaac grew, Sam began to fade in equal measure. By now she hardly ever dreamt of him anymore.

But this was… different. Different than she had ever seen him in her dreams. Their last moments had been shrouded in darkness and shadow, as she had been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night on an "errand" that turned out to be bullshit. She had been half-asleep, as she was now, and pissed off, and had intentionally done her best to ignore him as she left. Which had left her memory, as time stretched on, fuzzy and faded and dark. If not for Isaac's photos of them together, she wouldn't have a clear recollection at all.

Now he stood before her in such stark relief it was almost blinding. Dressed in all white, he looked the same but… different, too, somehow. Older. Paler. More haggard. But his eyes were still the same shade of emerald green. They pierced into her very soul. It was him. There was no mistaking. Was this… a ghost? An angel? 

Faina slowly lowered her hands from her lips and whispered, "Sam?"

Her name in response, her name, caused a low sob to come as tears started to course down her cheeks. The warmth that flooded through her at the sound of his voice almost made her sink to her knees. How often had she wanted to hear it again after she thought she'd been abandoned? How much had she cried when she would wake up in an empty bed without a "Morning, kid," and a quick correction to Faina as she shoved him onto the floor? 

He said her name again, and lifted his arms, and without a moment's hesitation she ran for them, throwing her arms around his neck and crumpling into his embrace.

Faina's skin did not react at all to his touch. Her phobia did not make her want to recoil, or cause nausea to rise in her throat. No, in fact, the opposite: it was as if before this moment she had never known what it could feel like to be touched, and it was sweeter than anything she had ever known. She could drown in it and nothing would ever make her happier.

It was only further proof that this wasn't real, that she was dreaming. But she didn't care. If this was a dream her painkiller-induced mind made up or a ghost making its presence known, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Sam was here, and that he had her in his arms.

"You finally… came back for me…" she sobbed into the crook between his neck and shoulder. "You bastard… You're years late…"

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Sam Skiles:

She was just as he remembered her and yet she wasn't. She was lithe and petite with a mane of brown hair and eyes of blue fire. To him, she didn't look any older than she had been when they parted. But he could tell by her eyes - she had aged. She was older. Wiser. There was more color to her skin than he remembered. Like him, she wore bandages - almost mirroring the ones on his hands, except hers were on her shoulder.

He used to dream about her all of the time, his one love. His Faina. He used to dream that she'd gotten away and went on to live her life, never knowing what became of him. That had been his only comfort through the years, knowing that she was out there somewhere, safe. Safe from Reinare and the reine and other supernatural horrors. 

Often he wondered how she was, what she was doing. He wondered if she'd forgotten him. For her sake, he hoped so. But in his dreams, when she came to him and she took him away from all of the hurt, she always remembered him. Sometimes she was angry at him for leaving her. Sometimes she forgave him. Sometimes she cried and other times, she screamed. It never mattered what she did, as long as it was her.

But Reinare had been chasing her away. His dreams had become nightmares - retellings of his agony in the Aether's care, dreading the possibility that he may one day become a favorite of her Goddess. In his nightmares, he relived the day he lost his family, and dreamt that Isaac and Faina had captured. 

The worst ones were of watching his love being broken until she was as unrecognizable as he was, and he watched Sandra become a zombie that wouldn't recover her humanity no matter how many bodies she ate. 

The best ones, lately, were of dying and watching over his warrior goddess. He hadn't seen her unharmed in his visions for so long that it seemed almost alien for the only damage suffered to be her shoulder. His heart fluttered and ached at the sight of her as she saw him, really saw him, and covered her mouth.

She looked at him as though she were seeing a ghost. Tears threatened to burn his cheeks. His warrior goddess had come to him again. She saw him, but didn't speak. She didn't scream or yell or find something to throw at him. As he took a step towards her with his arms open, Faina didn't hesitate; she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and crumbled in his grasp. 

Sam caught her quickly, hating the awkward bandages on his arms and hands for rendering him unable to feel her. Squeezing her tight and burying his face in her hair, he took one deep, shuddering breath, filling his senses with her and her scent as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. She was small and fit perfectly in his embrace, and he held her as close to him as he possibly could. There was no sign of her phobia, at least not yet, and he couldn't have been more grateful. Maybe it was because his hands were bound, or because she was as happy to see him as he was her. But it hit him then - her scent.

Faina smelled different. She didn't smell human, or like his shampoo. No, she... she was a shifter. Never, not in any of his dreams or even his nightmares, had she ever been anything other than human. It seemed like such an odd, out of place detail... But maybe, just maybe, his inner beast also wished to find solace in her. And to do that, she became something that could accompany the monster.

"Hey, kid." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. There was a teary smile in his voice. 

"You finally... Came back for me..." She sobbed and he held her closer. "You bastard... You're years late..." 

His heart fluttered. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks. "Sorry I'm late." Sam told her, nuzzling her hair and pressing a kiss - two kisses - upon her head. "I got held up by..." No. He wouldn't mention Reinare. She wouldn't ruin this dream. Not now. "It doesn't matter. I'm here now. I'm here, Faina..."

As he held her, he lifted one arm and started to bite at his bandages, tugging and ripping them off until both of his hands were free - allowing the werewolf to give her a proper, full body embrace. One hand caressed the back of her head and the other supported her waist. He cried with her, hugging her tightly and never letting go until finally, his hold relaxed. 

Slowly, he began to stroke her hair. "I missed you... I missed you so much."

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Faina Parker:

There was a lot that didn't make sense. But it could all be so easily explained away as a ghost or a dream. He was older, because she was, so why wouldn't he be, when he had always been older than her? His hands were tightly bandaged because why wouldn't they be - when she had always been bandaging or stitching one thing or another, chastising all the while for getting himself hurt again? It barely blipped on her radar; wouldn't it make sense he was making as much trouble for himself in the beyond as he had in life?

She should hate him. Hate that he had appeared here, when she was finally happy, when things were finally going right. He had ruined everything; for himself, for her, for their crew, for their family, all for what? Greed? But none of her fury and grief was here now. Nothing she had convinced herself she should feel when she thought of her ex. Seeing him again… to be in his arms again… it was like none of that mattered. None of it had, or ever would, again, as long as he never let her go again.

Faina breathed in his scent. Something so familiar and so alien at the same time. He was long gone by the time she gained her wolf's nose so it wasn't all that surprising that it smelled different than her memory. It brought back hazy memories of the first time they shared the same bed, the first time she had been surrounded by the smell of someone else, when he had brought her to his own bed because she wouldn't stop harassing him over her stomach wound. This was the same sort of butterflies as her mind tried to sort through what was so different. 

Then it clicked: Sam wasn't Human. He was… a werewolf?

His lips against her hair, her temple, his hands torn free from the bandages and now on her waist; each touch felt like little trails of fire against her skin in the wrong way. Rather than the sickening, skin-crawling sensation it was supposed to be, what it had always been for her as long as she could remember, it felt… good. Better than good. It felt right, it felt natural. She wanted - no, needed - more. More of it. More of him.

Faina lifted her head from his shoulder as Sam slowly relaxed his grip. She reached up, with shaking fingers, to trace along his jawline, his lips, his nose, to cup his cheeks in her hands. Her fingertips tingled with such a warm, comfortable sensation. She marvelled at it. Marvelled at him. That his ghost could do in a moment what had taken the real man years to accomplish… her phobia was quiet. Gone.

"I missed you too, Sam." She ran her thumbs along his cheeks, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I'll forgive you for being late. Just this once." He didn't even need to give her a reason. None of it mattered anymore. Not when he was here.

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Sam Skiles:

It felt... Too real. She felt too real. A single inhale dragged in the smell of wolf, paper, mild citrus and... Grease, all mixed in with her natural scent. He could feel each silky lock of her hair through his fingers, and the too inviting softness of her skin. Her voice rang in his ears like a bell, drowning out everything else. Sam had never been one to have lucid dreams. 

There was a small, momentary blip in the back of his mind that maybe it wasn't a dream - it was too real to be one. She was too real, too perfect, to be one. And just as quickly as it blipped, the thought was gone. Dream or not, it didn't matter. None of it mattered, not while he held her in his arms.

His warrior goddess didn't shy away from his touch nor did she wriggle from his grasp. Faina lifted her chin to look at him and he watched her trembling fingers enter his vision, felt them trace his jawline, leaving trails of red hot fire in her wake. He shivered. A smile curled his mouth as he melted into her touch, and the beast within him stirred - as though its attention had been piqued. It wasn't angry or on alert, only curious. 

He felt... a calm with her that he hadn't felt since turning. For once, the werebeast was at peace in his own skin and with his beast, creating a harmony that he didn't know could even exist. It was... freeing. For the first time, even in the walls of yet another cage, he felt... free.

The way her fingers traced his lips... his heart raced and his eyes found her mouth. God, he wanted to crash against those lips and taste her, but didn't. The werebeast growled in frustration, a low, throaty sound.

Faina's thumbs rubbed the tears from his face, but were quickly replaced by more. She'd missed him too, she told him and he held her a little tighter. She forgave him for being late even. Just this once. Sam's smile brightened. 

"I won't be late again." He rested his forehead against hers, his hands cupping her waist and tracing her torso - needing to touch her, needing to feel more of her. Needing to engrave every curve and dip and edge into his mind. It felt good. It felt right. And still he needed more of it and the fire from her touch.

Slowly, the werewolf gently clasped one of her hands in his own and kissed it, searching her eyes as though for permission for something. But he didn't wait for her answer. Instead, he moved her hands behind his neck and collected her in his arms. She was so light that he could cradle her to his chest with one arm, while the other swept the hair from her face and the back of his fingers stroked her cheek. 

"Let's get out of the hallway." It didn't matter, not really, where they were. But the beast demanded to have her alone, away from any prying eyes. He needed to tell her something. Words that weren't meant for anyone else. There wouldn't be any, not in his dream. Or at least, not in this one he hoped.

He carried her into the closest room he could find. Reinare had said that any open room would do. There wasn't any baggage there, because of course there wasn't, so it was as good as his. 

It was spacious, with a built in kitchen - a small one, but still a kitchen - and a living room with a couch, a loveseat, a handsome coffee table and a flatscreen TV. The hallway next to the TV led to a bedroom with a queen sized bed, and the other, to a bathroom with a walk in shower. 

Sam closed the door with his foot and took her over to the couch. He sat in the center and kept her in his lap, but loosened his grip so that she could move away if she wanted.

Keeping eye contact, he pet her hair and her face. But his gaze pleaded - wanting and needing her to do the same, to touch him. "I love you, Faina." He said suddenly. "I never stopped loving you. I never forgot. And I never stopped looking for you." Sam wet his lips, searching her gaze. "I wanted you to know that."

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Faina Parker:

This was a dream she never wanted to wake up from. To see his smile again, to feel the way his cheeks curved under her fingers… and he smiled so warmly at her. The kind of smile that she fell in love with. It was the way his eyes crinkled at the edges but were still wide and bright, and sparkled with that sultry mischievousness he could never seem to get rid of. She used to go weak in the knees when he smirked at her, but it was his warm smile that filled her head to toe with warmth and love. It made her feel safe.

It was only now, years after he'd been gone, after she had effectively moved on as best she could, years after she convinced herself what she had felt for him hadn't been more than a teenager's passing first love, it was only now, in this moment, that she admitted to herself that she really, truly, loved him. She still loved him, beyond the embers of a first love that could never be extinguished… first love it may have been, but embers it was not. All it took was a ghost and a dream, and it was like all the years in between never happened.

Thankfully the moment passed, and Faina let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding when he pressed his forehead to hers. 

"You better not be. I'll have to kick your ass." She nuzzled him, eskimo kisses as he traced circles of fires down her waist. She hummed, a satisfied noise deep in her throat, the closest thing the wolf could come to a purr. Then, slowly, he reached for one of her hands.

Faina gasped, clinging around his neck, until it was apparent that no, yeah, he basically picked her up and had her in one arm with no effort at all. Granted, it hadn't been like he had much trouble doing it when he was alive and they were Human, but this was almost laughable. And she did laugh, a stream of giggles, and she curled herself into his chest. "Yes. Anywhere. As long as it's with you."

Sam sat them on the couch, with her in his lap, and loosened his grip. But joke's on him; now that she was on top of him, she had no intention of moving. She simply shifted so she could stretch out better across his chest and keep her hands free for movement.

He didn't need that pleading look. She was so touch starved for him that with her phobia miraculously gone, Faina had no intention of letting him out of her grip. She could stay curled up here forever, safe in his arms. The only reminder of there being an outside world to go back to by the ring on her finger.

When he spoke again, it was as if in confession. The last words of a dying man. Faina's expression shifted, somewhere between understanding and sympathy, and the faint traces of the grief and resentment she had nursed over it for so long. How long, how many years had she waited to hear that. She reached up to cup his cheeks again, her left hand carefully angled out of view.

"I know you did. I know you do. But…" She drew in a breath. If they were going to have the conversation, it might as well be now. Before the dream could burst, before the angel left. "You never should have had to look in the first place. It wasn't fair, that you had to suffer through all that alone. I should've been there with you. I mean… I know we're not exactly a Romeo and Juliet type, but… you were supposed to be the one. It was supposed to be you. I would have died with you. For you."

She wasn't angry about it anymore. It was impossible to be. But there could be no denying that she had to move on, while he was gone; she couldn't tether herself to the ghost of a memory. And he was going to see it sooner or later. So Faina reluctantly showed him the back of her left hand, and the SMALL SAPPHIRE ENGAGEMENT RING there. She watched him with trepidation, worry-filled.

"Please don't be mad. It doesn't mean anything anymore." She begged, her voice soft and quiet. "I didn't… I thought you were gone, forever. I didn't know."

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Sam Skiles:

There was nothing more perfect than her laughing at how easily he could carry her. It had always been perfect, but now with his werebeast hearing, he truly understood just how magical it was and for a moment, he was in awe of her. 

He'd never been grateful for being a werewolf, not once. It had always been a curse, a ghastly reminder of the ultimate consequence, the price that had been paid for a simple mistake made by a lovesick fool. And his beast within had never been calm; it was a monster crawling underneath his skin, nipping at the seams so that it could escape. 

But now, it was a blessing just to hear her voice in a new light, and the demon that dwelled within him was uncharacteristically silent. In her presence, it knew peace for the first time since it had been made a part of him. And its interest was piqued. The wolf was watching.

That had never happened in any of his other dreams. His monster was not something that could be tamed, even in his best dreams - ones that quickly became nightmares the second that he Changed. Sam had had the nightmares before - dreams where he'd finally found her and had repented, where there was no more Reinare or the reine, and everything was perfect. Until the monster took control and extinguished the flame of her life, a curse until the very end. It was only now, here in this lucid dream, with her, that he...

His thoughts were interrupted, remembering how she'd flushed only moments before. How was it possible for someone to be so fucking cute and so sexy at the same time?

Once they got into the room, he imagined that she would move away from him. She had a phobia of touch and reunion or not, dream or no, she had to be nearing her limits for it. But as though answering his wishes, Faina didn't remove herself from him. She merely shifted so that she had better access to his chest, and a position that he assumed was more comfortable. With her against him, Sam finally felt... Complete. Safe. Happy.

It had been a long time, too long, since he had felt a touch that was didn't have malicious intent. Sandra wasn't allowed to touch him, much less hold him, and it crushed them both. He hadn't known a loving touch in what felt like a lifetime. Now that he had it, all he wanted was more of it. 

Sam hadn't realized just how desperately he'd wanted and needed it - the only signal that he had was a burning behind his eyes, threatening tears. He bit his tongue after he spoke, to try and stop them from coming. Faina had only seen him cry once in frustration. Even in a dream, he didn't want her to see him fall apart.

"I should have been there with you." She told him, like she had so many times before. That was why he hadn't told her when it happened. She would have ended up dead, just like the rest of them, unless it came down to her and Isaac as his choices to set free and even then, there had never been any promise that the pack or Reinare herself hadn't hunted Isaac down and ended him without Sam ever knowing. "But... you were supposed to be the one. It was supposed to be you. I would have died with you. For you." 

He frowned at her, his eyes momentarily downcast. "You always were stubborn." Sam said quickly, the look gone. His arms encircled her waist again, pulling her closer against him. "I didn't want you to die, Faina. I didn't want anyone to die, but especially not you. I didn't know what would be done to us, but if it went bad - like it did - I wanted you to have a way out. So you could live. So you could be better. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but I don't regret-"

Before he could finish, his warrior goddess showed him the back of her left hand. His eyes immediately glued to it - something that wasn't supposed to be there. A ring. An engagement ring. A ring that wasn't his. He could feel her watching him, feel the worry through her body. This had never happened in his dreams, either. Why was it happening now?

He'd considered it, of course he had. He and Sandra had even talked about it. Faina would move on with her life - she would find someone else, eventually, and she might humor his marriage proposal. Why wouldn't she? For all she knew, Sam was dead. 

Hell, she'd only been a teenager. He'd been her first love. What if it had never been anything more than that? It was a fear that he'd always had, even while they were together, that because she was young when they got together, that she would outgrow him. And he had made his peace with that, too. He never expected her to wait for someone that as far as she knew, couldn't come back at all.

The burning stopped for the time being and his gaze slowly panned up to hers. It was gentle and... resigned, even accepting. But it made the beast snarl and claw at his insides, wanting to be freed so that it could correct this injustice. "Please don't be mad." She didn't need to plead. He wasn't angry. Her voice was soft and quiet as she told him that it didn't mean anything anymore, that she hadn't known. She'd thought he was gone. 

"I'm not mad. And... It's okay if it means something." He said gently, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of her fingers. "I never expected you to wait for me. Outside of this dream, you probably still think that I'm dead. I don't blame you. How could you have known?" As he looked at her, his smile grew sad again before he forced a chuckle. "I'm in a place that you'd never go back to. Alaska. Can you believe that? But you'll never find me and I'll never be free from them..." He paused for a moment, then sighed and smiled again. But it didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm sorry for all of the pain I've caused you. I know it was hard... but you're strong. Stronger than you realize." Sam lowered his hands holding hers, letting them rest on his chest. "But I'm here. I'm not gone. And I... Don't care about who you're connected with outside of this place. Right now... You are mine. And I am yours. And that's all that matters to me." 

The burning was back. The bottom half of his vision blurred. He couldn't stop the tears from flowing that time. It was only fair, he supposed. She'd cried when he said her name earlier. "I miss you, Faina. Every day. Every day. And I- I have something to tell you, too." 

But the wolf stirred again, forcing him to withdraw one of his hands and wipe his tears away with a sniff. The beast didn't like being vulnerable. It hated it. It was weakness. And weakness could be exploited. Weaknesses could hurt him. "I'm sorry. Here, let me-" It was an uncharacteristic thing for the Sam she'd known to apologize, especially so quickly, and so soon after having said it only moments before.

Deft hands reached behind his head, pulling the black chain free from under his shirt. An emerald green dewdrop pendant hung around his neck in tones that matched his eyes. A strange magical pulse could be felt coming from its center. But beside it were two rings - a plain silver wedding band and a SILVER WEDDING RING with an emerald in the center. He unclasped the chain and, careful to keep the pendent against his chest, he removed the rings and let them rest there while he reclasped the chain and put the pendant back underneath his shirt. 

Carefully, he thumbed with the silver and green rings, and held out the wedding ring to her. "This was always meant for you." He said, "I bought it after our last job. And... I bought a house, too. I was going to surprise you with the house and propose to you outside, in the gazebo. I wanted you to be my wife... I wish you could've seen our house, Faina. It really was something magical."

It wasn't fair of him to tell her that after she'd shown him an engagement ring that belonged to another man. But he didn't care. This was a dream. And in it... she was his. She would always be his. "You don't have to take it, but. I want you to know - that's why I started taking those jobs. I wanted us to live life to the fullest." 

But as he'd realized afterwards, while he suffered, that that was such a silly thing to want. The Ravagers already had been living their best lives. They'd had each other. Even if their place was falling apart and the AC didn't work, it didn't matter. They were happy where they were. He'd... Just been greedy. He'd wanted more. And now, so many lives had been ruined because of it. How stupid he had been.

He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve to dream of her or hold her. She was so much better than he ever was or would ever be again and he hoped, with every fiber of his being, that wherever she really was out there, that she was happy. But right now, just for a little while... all he wanted was to be selfish. All he wanted was her, his warrior Goddess. His Faina.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Faina Parker:

"You always were stubborn." Sam said, and for the brief moment where she steeled herself for the reveal she almost lost her nerve just from wanting to laugh. As if that wasn't the understatement of the fucking century.

She had imagined this conversation in vivid detail over the years, examining the mystery that Sam had left behind. In her mind, Faina had traced out every possible argument she could think of as to why Sam had left Isaac in the dark until the last minute and never told her at all. She was supposed to be his girlfriend, the love of his life, the third Leader in the trio… and yet. And yet. He was dead, an angel in a dream, and she was alive.

So the message felt the same, even if the words weren't exactly as she had envisioned in one of the several imaginings of this very conversation. Probably a lot less violence happening, too, to be honest. She didn't truly listen to them; it had played out so many times before. Instead she steeled herself not out of fury to finally hear why he had abandoned her that night… but out of worry that she had just broken his heart for moving on.

Moving on. A bitter edge to the thought. As if there had been any other choice but to settle. Isaac had told her at least twice, in the heat of one of their arguments, that she couldn't cling to the ghost of a dead man and let it ruin her life. He was right; she couldn't hold onto the grudge that Sam had stolen her heart and then shattered it. He was dead and there were no answers, and she couldn't ask him to pay a price of retribution higher than what had been paid.

So she had let go. Moved on. Settled down, not once, but twice. Ended it with Kievan and returned to Isaac, where she felt safest. Worked through their problems. Had a proper relationship. Everyone had been so happy for them when they announced they were engaged.

And all of it - all of the feelings, all of the time, the effort - vanished the moment Sam had reappeared. Ghost or angel or vivid dream, it didn't matter. Isaac had told her he never pursued her while Sam was alive because he respected them both, respected their relationship… and knew he would lose if there was ever a choice. Well, the choice was here, and… he was right. Again.

"No, it's not okay--" Faina started to say, the worry that he was upset now edged with frustration, as she squeezed his fingers when he grabbed her hand - only to be silenced by his lips against her knuckles. A comfortable feeling of warmth raced from her fingers up her arm at his touch, and she calmed and waited for him to finish.

The dream version of Sam - or the ghost of him, as it more sounded like - still believed he was alive. In Alaska, 'of all places'. Of course he wouldn't realize that Alaska was the very place she was. It was probably the dream's way of reconciling what should have been impossible. 

"But, Sam --" Faina couldn't stand that half-hearted smile. The way he spoke like he hadn't somehow found his way to her, anyway. She wanted to reach for his face again, cup his cheeks in her hands, but he had them both now and she didn't want to pull away.

The moment she realized, staring searchingly into his eyes, tears welled up in her own almost on reflex. Seeing him quietly begin to cry HURT so much worse than expected. Combine that with every word ringing true, it felt like her heart would dislodge from her chest. 

"No, don't," Her hand followed his when he let go to try and wipe them away, wanting to help, wanting to dry his tears - but she stopped short when her eyes caught the ring again and she drew back.

Faina stared at it. Isaac had spent months picking it out, agonizing over it. As simple as it looked, it was approaching five figures. She… had been happy with it at the time. Happy enough that he had asked. Now looking at it sent cold, detached chills down her spine. She wanted it off. She wanted to give it back. With Sam here, now, she wanted nothing to do with Isaac. It was like he said: here and now, she belonged to Sam, and Sam to her, and there was no place for this ring in that picture.

She lifted her own chain from around her neck, wincing at the movement hurting her bandage, where her totem and Trinity emblem sat under her tank top, and dropped the ring onto the chain. If these flimsy cotton pajama shorts had pockets she might've stuck it in there, but for now this was the safest place for it not to lose it. So she could give it back.

Faina lifted her gaze just as Sam tucked his own pendant underneath his shirt. The fleeting thought of since when do werewolves wear totems? passed before she could really consider it, why would his ghost be wearing a totem in her dream, because her eyes had caught a flash of something else in his hands. It was… another ring?

She looked between it and him, clearly confused. Until he held it up to her. Faina shifted on his chest, sitting up a bit. "Wait…" A different chill raced down her spine. This one was emerald. She remembered an offhand comment about wanting a ring that matched his eyes, in that 'I'm saying it to be bitchy and sarcastic but also a tiny bit serious' way that she got whenever the idea had been kicked around. Which wasn't often; it was mostly when the others teased them about it. "Wait, Sam, what are you saying-- is that what you were doing, that night?"

She had barely seen Sam that night - everyone else had walked in ready to party, but he had swept her up into a kiss and declared he still had errands to run. Is that what they had been - a ring, and a house, and a proposal plan?

"Samael Skiles," and no, she did not feel one damn bit sorry about using his whole first name, "you are… so… fucking stupid." She glared at him, or tried to, but there was no heat to it, and her lips trembled like they couldn't decide whether to smile or to frown. "The answer was yes, by the way. Is yes. And if you hadn't gotten caught up in trying to be a show-off you would've had it back then."

She shifted so she could put both her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head. So they could be eye to eye, and so she could lean in, if she needed to. "I need you to understand I didn't move on from you. I settled. I went for the only option I had to feel safe after you left me to burn and you went off to martyr yourself on a dream you didn't even know if I wanted."

Her fingers dug into the cushions. "I don't care what the house would've looked like; you're home, Sam, you and me, and don't think for one fucking second that I won't barricade that door and slash my own wrists if it means I can stay with you this time. I settled because everyone told me you can't ask for more retribution from a dead man, but you're here, aren't you?"

She released her grip on the cushions to instead grab his face, slide her fingers up into his hair, and leaned in close, still eye to eye, lips close but not quite close enough to touch. She had no name for the emotions warring through her chest - love, anger, grief? Something else? "So no, it's not fucking okay. I won't go another day without you. You hear me? You lost me before because you tricked me. That's not fucking happening twice. I've got a grudge to settle and if I have to claw you out of hell myself to get it paid, so be it."

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Sam Skiles:

Tears brimmed her oceanic gaze, watching him. He hated it - the tears in her eyes, and how they came as an automatic response to his pain. "Don't," Her hand followed his as if to stop him from wiping away his tears, wanting to help him. How had he ever doubted that she really loved him? 

Instead, he couldn't fathom why she ever loved him and why she would still love him after his fuck up. She was too good for him. She was too good to him. He didn't deserve her as he was now. Yet even as she pulled back, eyeing the ring on her finger, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and goosebumps breezed across his arm and neck, where she might have touched and he let out a shallow gasp. A flicker of relief. He needed her and her love now more than he ever had. But he didn't deserve it.

More tears came and he made a half-pained, half-frustrated grunt as he wiped them free from his face again. Stop it, He told himself. Stop. But they kept coming, ignoring his orders. Please stop. 

It really was okay for her to move on. It was. 

He never would. 

Thoughts of her had kept him holding on - both for himself and for Sandra. Faina should be happy. She should be safe. The only solace that he had was that she wouldn't be caught dead in Alaska. She would never go looking for him, and would never find this hotel. Would never get mixed up with the reine and their bullshit, would never see him or what they did to him or Sandra. Faina Parker would never save them. And that pained him just as much as it relieved him. 

But he wished... Oh, how he wished... No. That would truly be a nightmare. An impossible nightmare.

He let out a calming breath, wiping his face again. The knowledge that she would never set foot in the Seraphim Hotel was enough to calm him, at least for the time being. Enough time for her to remove the wrong ring from her hand, and for him to present her with the right one. She glanced between the ring and him, confused. It had an emerald that matched his eyes, something that she'd always mentioned in a bitchy way. But he knew that she'd been serious. And that was what he'd picked, after months of searching and having Sandra and Lily both look at rings with him.

"Yes." The werebeast admitted. "I was so excited... They all were." He closed his eyes then, leaning his head back against the couch. "So stupid..." He hadn't needed a house. He'd needed her. Anywhere was home as long as Faina was there. He'd been so stupid. 

But Lily... Lily wanted a house. Mitch wanted a nice garage, attached to the house. They'd all wanted their own rooms. Mitch and Sandra would have finally had their own space rather than having to sneak off every time they wanted to be alone together. Their hideout was okay for what it was, but it'd been no good for privacy. The house had been more for them.

The shifter collected the ring with shaking fingers. He watched her silently as she slipped it into place on her ring finger, its final destination. It fit perfectly, like it was always meant to be. But she didn't say anything. Didn't smile, didn't laugh. That was also different. She'd always been happy with it in his dreams. He'd played out all of the scenarios in his head - even where she threw it back at him. But this? This moment had never played out this way. The beast within him stirred again.

Instead, she called him by his full name. Samael. He'd always scowled whenever it was used, and would either correct the other with his nickname, or punch them in the face and then correct them. But not this time. He only frowned. 

"I know," He told her in defeat as she told him that he was fucking stupid. Yes. He had been. She tried to glare at him, but her eyes lacked the heat. They both knew what her answer would've been. Was. "I know... I'm sorry." And he was.

Faina shifted then, placing both hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head, trapping him. The wolf stirred again. What came next, he hadn't expected - explaining that she hadn't moved on from him, she'd only settled after he'd left her alone for a dream she said that he didn't know she even wanted. He was her home, and that he'd better not think for a second that she wouldn't lock herself away and slash her wrists to be with him again. This was a dream. This was a dream, but she was... She was...

Sam searched her eyes frantically, his own expanding in horror. This was a dream, but she couldn't do that. He would never allow it. "I'm not dead," He told her. "I'm here. Don't-" His arm encircled her again, wanting to pull her flush against him. Faina grabbed his face, let her fingers slide into his hair. She was closer now. She was so close that he could feel her breath. 

All of the words died in his throat. She was serious, and she continued. Sam shook his head slowly, fresh hot tears streaming down his cheeks. All of his suffering would be for nothing if she... if she...

It were as if she were talking to his ghost, telling him that she couldn't pretend to be okay anymore. That she would join him, stay with him. His heart knotted and fluttered. He couldn't take it. He couldn't stand the words coming out of her mouth and invading his ears. 

Sam reached up to grab her chin as he pulled her flush against him, capturing her mouth. The fire took him the moment their lips met, scorching through him. It was fireworks and heat and want, and he held her as close as he could. He kept kissing her, again and again, each more desperate and ravenous than the last.

She was the only thing he'd ever truly wanted or needed. She couldn't do that. She couldn't leave. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts again. It would break Sandra's heart and he would hate himself for leaving her alone with Reinare forever, but he never wanted to leave the sweet, safe space of this dream. It could be his last. He could die happy, with an image of her keeping him company - holding him, being one with him, letting him feel loved one last time. 

As if in response, the monster within him snarled. He could feel Him crawling beneath his skin, could feel Him clawing at the seams or trying to. The amulet protected him, kept him from Changing. As long as it stayed around his neck or against him, she would be safe. This wouldn't be another dream that turned into a nightmare.

No. This could be the last one. If it meant never having to part with her again, it would be the last.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Faina Parker:

Faina had never forgiven Adelaide for what she had done to her children. Her mother had two perfectly healthy children to live for, to hold onto, and instead she succumbed to the grief of losing her husband and youngest child. As an adult, now many years removed from it, Faina might understand a little of the how - but she had still never understood the why, why, why look into the face of your loved ones still living and choose to give up?

It was only really now, in this moment, that she understood what Adelaide might have been thinking. Maybe this was a curse for the women of her family? To be haunted by the ghost of your heart, to appear in a dream as if an angel clothed in white, the only offer of getting the chance of home back, the only chance at peace, requiring a step off a precipice where there was no going back?

It didn't matter that outside this room she had rebuilt her life and her family from the ashes, that she had struggled but survived and that there were people who loved her and needed her. Madison, Isaac, Drucilla, Leo, Kievan, even Cynric… If Arod had come to her mother the same way Sam was here now, Faina already knew with some certainty that she would follow the same path Adelaide had taken.

It almost made her angry to see the horror of the thought in his eyes. What, did he actually think he was some sort of martyr? Who the hell gave him the right? He stole her choice to decide because they both knew what the answer would have been, the same choice Isaac had made: to stay and die with your family rather than continue to live without them. Like rebels standing together through a revolution, knowing the only choices are victory and death. And he didn't think she would make the same decision again, given the chance?

"I'm not dead," he said, and Faina narrowed her eyes, vision blurred through the tears silently gliding down her cheeks, feeling his own over her thumbs as they fell. That may be true for the moment; she could feel his pulse under her fingertips, the rough texture of his skin, the soft fuzzy feeling of his hair. "I'm here."

But it wasn't real. Couldn't be real. She may not have seen his death herself, but Isaac had, and it still haunted him. So did Sam expect her to believe that when the dream was over and their time was up that he wouldn't slip away, cast her off like he had done once before, and leave her behind all over again?

"Fuck you." She snapped back, the wolf's urge to snarl tugging at her lips, even as his arm came around her and pulled her closer to him and she didn't try to fight it. Chest to chest she couldn't tell which heartbeat was hers, whose breath was whose. Their totems pressed against each other, magic to magic, wolf to beast, a bond deeper than even death could separate… and he dared tell her no? "You lost the right to ever tell me no again, you bastard."

Before she could say another word her chin was grabbed and her lips stolen. Faina gasped, a sharp inhale through her nose, and tensed for a span of heartbeats - but there was nothing, no negative reaction, not even the faint sense of nausea at the back of her mind that had taken them years to build towards in life. Her phobia was still quiet. Gone. It was just the warmth of his lips on hers and the ache of her heartbeat in her chest. She could just… kiss him.

As if that wasn't more proof that this was all a lie and it would end and he would leave her again and FUCK she just wanted to kiss him.

Her kiss immediately turned fierce once the realization hit, ravenous and wanton and desperate. She felt lightheaded as their breaths mixed on their lips, struggling to breathe through tears and crushing her lips onto his as if he might fade right under her fingers. He tasted like home.

Faina opened her mouth first, something she had never had the courage or the stamina against her phobia to do, running her tongue along his bottom lip, begging and demanding entrance in the same motion. For the moment this was real and a shiver ran through her body; the air around them changed, blooming and shimmering like the air over a scorching road.

She didn't want to talk about the past anymore. It didn't matter, anyway. Nothing else mattered. Even her wolf in the back of her skull wants nothing but him, a fierce animalistic desire driven by instincts she had never felt before, to mark, to claim. A low, protective growl rose in her throat and she scraped her teeth across his bottom lip, gentle but with the threat of a bite.

"I love you." She whispered, a repeated murmur against his lips, between kisses and moments to breathe. "I've missed you, so much…"

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Sam Skiles:

She was right, of course. Chest to chest, amulet to totem, magic to magic, a demon and a wolf crying together... He had lost the right to tell her 'no'. Yet he did it anyway. She was a ghost, a fragment of his memories made flesh that came to him in his time of need, to ferry him away - a siren who had come to pull him under. He went willingly.

Faina gasped but she never recoiled, didn't pull away from him. It were as though her phobia didn't exist here - a miracle, even in a dreamworld. She was magical. A goddess. His goddess. But it served as a silent reminder that she would be gone if he woke again, and he would fall apart all over again until his master came to collect him. 

She happened upon the same realization, and her kiss became just as ravenous and wanton as his. He was lost to the wisps of her hair on his face, the warmth of her body against him, the feel of her lips crushing against his and the wet of their tears against his skin. She tasted like a cocktail of home and heaven. Her kiss was intoxicating.

He could barely comprehend that she'd opened her mouth until he felt her tongue trace his bottom lip, begging for entry. She'd never done that, her phobia had never allowed it. But it didn't exist here. Sam obeyed eagerly, opening his mouth and letting her make the first move. He wanted her to explore, to taste and feel to her heart's content. Her teeth scraped against his lip, gentle but threatening a bite and he shivered. He could imagine it - her teeth sinking into his neck.

Sam felt like he was drowning even as fire burned through his core; he brought a hand up to cradle the back of her head, his thumb rubbing just behind her jaw as his tongue brushed against her lips. More. He needed more... More of her. 

"I love you." She told him between kisses. 

"I love you." His voice was a breathless whisper. He felt warm, felt butterflies in his stomach and heat in his abdomen. When her lips crashed into his again, he didn't wait for her to make the first move again. The moment he felt her mouth open, he tentatively added his tongue to the mix, exploring and tasting, a brief battle with her own before it retreated and returned for another hit.

A low, wolfish growl spilled from him, erupting deep from the base of his throat. The monster was growling and he felt it - the animalistic need to mark, to claim, to be one. To trail his hands and mouth, his nails and fangs, over every inch of her until she was a beautiful, writhing wreck. And her phobia didn't exist here. Idle itching hands began to roam, feeling the curves of her waist and the ball of her shoulders, the crescent of her breasts. 

"Faina..." He whispered against her mouth. "I want you."

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Faina Parker:

Faina had no concept of patience. There was no room to take this slow. Not with the threat that Sam could vanish at any moment and she would blink awake to a wet dog nose in her face and life would go on as normal. Just the thought speared a white hot rod of fury and anguish through her chest.

It wasn't fair! Why would he come back if that was the ending? It can't be. It won't be. Swear to whatever afterlife lay beyond, he wasn't about to leave her again.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, needing him closer, so close that their bodies fit together like they had been designed just for each other. Faina matched the growing roughness and ferocity of his kisses beat for beat. Probably more so, because she was less experienced and had been freed of the only barrier keeping her from doing this with him before now.

She opened her eyes at her name whispered on his lips. The tears had stopped, though when she couldn't say, and now her whole face was flushed in a warm pink glow and her lips slightly swollen from the force of their kissing. Sam's eyes seemed to glow in the lights of the room, as if lit by firelight, and she risked being lost in their depths.

It took her a minute to register what he meant and how he meant it, and her eyes widened. The wolf was barely controllable; her head swam with the strength of its confirmation, yes yes yes repeated like a prayer. But a blush exploded onto her face, and she froze. Grabbing one of his wandering hands with trembling fingers.

"Wait…" The love and desire in her voice was thick, but it came out strangled, equally as embarrassed. "Wait, I… I…" She sucked in a breath, fighting back the wolf in her head, which was part of the damn problem. Faina finally shut her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him and just blurted it out. "I… haven't… since… you. S-so I haven't… with the wolf, I…"

Somehow, even without the wolf and with her phobia, Faina had slept with Sam three times. Which was three times more than anyone else had ever managed. Sure, she had wanted to - the wolf had definitely wanted to, sometimes the desire drove her so crazy she wanted to scream - but they had all ended in failure and frustration and lashing out, because she just couldn't push past her phobia enough to do it.

And despite understanding the concept of 'there's more to intimacy than just sex', she had thrown the bedside lamp (the first thing in easy reach) directly at Isaac's face when he suggested something like mutual masturbation. Or masturbation at all. Or just… anything like that.

Fuck, this was so embarrassing, she wanted to bury her face in her hands and scream. "I don't know if I can control it o-or what to do or…"

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Sam Skiles:

Need pooled swift and hot through his system as he felt her squirm on top of him and he knew, he knew with every fiber of his being that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He squeezed her sides as she arched into his touch, biting back the instinctual desire to dig the tips of his nails into her skin and drag them down her ribs just to leave a mark. 

He felt her shiver and growled again, louder that time through their kisses. As his hands returned to the sides of her breasts to palm and pinch the pebbled peaks he was sure would await him there, he felt her freeze.

It was only then that he dared to open his eyes again, drinking her in. A fire ignited in his eyes, raging and hungry and blazing out of control. His kiss swollen lips parted. She was as flushed as he felt, eyes wide and tears no longer flowing. He hadn't been aware that his had stopped, too. 

Sam withdrew one hand to wipe the dampness from his face again just as she grabbed his other still wandering hand. Faina told him to wait. Wait? He had waited. For her, for years. The werebeast within him snarled in frustration.

The desire and the love in her voice was thick and embarrassed in equal measure. Sam gulped in a breath, his nose and head filling with the almost floral scent of her growing arousal. The beast responded in kind. He swallowed thickly. "Wait, I..." His head was spinning and he could barely concentrate on what she was telling him. 

With great effort, Sam understood - that she hadn't sexually been with anyone since him, and a pang of guilt ripped through his heart. He wished that he could have said the same, and would have were it not for the accursed demon that dwelled within him.

Sam wasn't conscious when the monster took over, not completely. His beast was a creature of instinct and desire came naturally, without warning. There was a reason that Reinare was careful around him when his demon was unleashed. In one of those moods, the monster was more feral, more violent and even with all of their magic, all of their chains and restraints, he could barely be contained. The only mage that had managed to create things that he couldn't break was the one that made every instinct in him want to run - Lillian. But he'd felt it. He had known.

He knew that she'd muzzled and bound him to prevent him from ripping her apart. The beast almost had the first time. Despite having the beast in control, he could feel his body betray him, could hear him growling and panting and whimpering for her. Reinare had wanted complete and utter control over him, no matter what form he took. So she took it. 

When finally he awoke as his human self, he could still feel her, still smell her all over him and no amount of scrubbing for clawing at his skin could get her off. It didn't happen often, hadn't since they'd flown to Alaska, but he hated it. Hated her. He hated himself more for wanting it. Hated his wolf for making him want it, want her. His beast betrayed him. His own body betrayed him.

In all of his dreams and even his nightmares, he never told Faina about that nor the extent of his torture. He couldn't. Sam didn't have the strength to tell Sandra either, but he knew that she could smell it too. He knew that she knew. She never asked, probably understanding that he was too ashamed of himself to tell her the truth. But her eyes were always filled with understanding. For all he knew, Reinare could be doing the same to her. The thought of it made his blood boil.

Sam was not ashamed of his desire for Faina. Her embarrassment only made him want her more. She hadn't with her wolf, but he had. From what little he could remember, it was a different experience. The difference between them was that she could control her animal. He could not.

He brought her hand to his lips. "You think too much." Sam pursued her for a brief kiss before he pulled away for a moment, letting her look at him. He quietly revelled in the sensation of her soft, pliant skin beneath his fingertips. "Don't try to force it down and control it. You'll never enjoy yourself doing that. Let go. Listen to your heart and to your body." 

With a crooked grin, he rocked his hips into hers, letting her feel his erection, his want and his hunger for her. "Do what feels good. Tell me what you want."

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Faina Parker:

Faina kept her eyes squeezed shut because she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye again. The fire in his eyes had been more beast than man, raging and hungry and wild, and the wolf wanted to respond to the call with a desire strong enough to send cramps rocking through her, for not giving in, for not being taken. Under that gaze she felt too exposed and not exposed enough in the same breath, depending on who had the reins at that particular moment.

Of course, her eyes being closed meant her other senses picked up the slack, and… she didn't know if that was helping or hurting. Somehow she had either shifted herself or had been shifted so she was straddling his hips. The cool air in the room swept goosebumps across her heated skin and left her shivering, anywhere he touched trailing hot fire afterwards. She could feel his body move underneath her, even just the slightest shift a reminder that there were only two layers of fabric between the damp heat of her and his growing arousal.

The fact that she could also scent herself as well as he could was equally as embarrassing; not to mention the musk heavy in the air made her a little dizzy. Her thoughts threatened to wander, spiral off even as she tried to focus. All she had on was the thin cotton pajama shorts and the spaghetti strap tank with the plaid shirt unbuttoned over top, no underwear to speak of of any kind, it'd be so easy for him to slide his pants down to his knees, push aside the thin material of her shorts--

Her eyes popped open at the gentle kiss, looking at him as he had intended, and, just as she thought, that was a mistake. She shuddered, sinking her teeth into her lower lip to hold back the whine that wanted to force its way out her throat. His voice rolled across her ears in a soothing purr as he tried to tell her to relax and let go. It wasn't a command, not even in his dreams would she let him get away with that, but the wolf, her instincts, agreed, and unbidden the tension bled from her shoulders.

She glared at him and that grin of his, or tried to, the usual heat nothing but lust. "Don't look at me like that." She complained, because she was embarrassed, because this was the only aspect of her life where she had always been shy, because if he could get her this fucking horny just by looking at her how was she supposed to survive this?

Then, without warning, he rocked his hips up against her, a reminder of the scant few layers of fabric between them, and this time she can't help the muffled cry. "Hngh!" Faina let go of his hand to curl both of hers into the fabric of his shirt. A reminder of what she could have, she only needed to tell him, and a shudder crawled down her spine.

"Fuck, okay, I can't think when you do that shit." She pushed her hands against his chest in a mock version of a shove. Her cheeks burned from the teasing, from being asked to say it out loud, and if she wasn't so fucking desperate she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

"I -- want you, Sam, I want you so badly." It ended in a hissed whimper. And she didn't even know where to start, but her hands moved of their own accord to grab his hands and place them on her breasts.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Sam Skiles:

"Don't look at me like that." She complained, glaring at him. Which meant don't stop, keep doing it. His crooked grin grew bolder, somehow becoming more wolf-like. His buck was rewarded with a muffled cry. Faina let go of his hand, curling both of hers in his shirt. He grabbed her waist, keeping her there, wanting to grind against her and hear more of her sounds, but he didn't. Sam wanted to hear her say it first.

She pushed against him, saying she couldn't think when he did that and he grinned. His fingers dug into the fabric of her cotton shorts. It would be easy, he thought, to kick off his pants and his boxers and bring her back into his lap. All he had to do was pull aside her shorts and panties, if she were wearing any, and then he could take her. Make her his again. 

Her scent invaded his nostrils again and he shivered slightly. It was an invitation just for him, to a garden only he could enter. And god did he want to, until he woke up, if she would let him. That smell was going to drive him insane.

His licked his lips, watching her flushed face, the way her mouth curved down with embarrassment and the way her eyes glittered like stars reflected in the sea. And then finally, blissfully, she said the words in a hissed whisper. He growled triumphantly in retrospect, and the beast roared and writhed. The monster didn't want to wait. 

His attention was entirely on her, too. The beast wanted nothing more than to shred the frustrating layers between them and take her, right then and there, to bury himself to the hilt - to be where he belonged. Sam agreed with him and had every intention of doing so, but there were other things that he wanted first. Faina moved his hands to her breasts and immediately, he palmed and groped her, watching her expression. She wasn't wearing a bra, he realized.

Emboldened by the discovery, he pinched and lightly pulled the already pebbled peaks, rolling them between his digits. It needed to be his teeth, his tongue. He released her temporarily, letting his hands drop to the rim of her shirt and slide underneath it before his hands returned to their favorite place, hiking the fabric up as he did so. Her skin was so soft and so smooth to the touch... 

As he fondled her, rolling her nipples between his thumbs, he leaned in, reclaiming her lips. It was a very different kiss from one they had shared just moments ago; instead of a frantic, searing flame, this was a slow, steady burn that threatened to scorch them down to their very marrow. He felt as though he were drowning again, with the only thing that could keep him afloat was the fire, adding to the hunger. Before he devoured her, Sam kissed down her jaw and her neck, nipping and tasting her skin as he went, ending at her collarbone.

He would feel more than hear her breath catch as he slowly slid his hands up her torso, forcing the shirt to lift further, revealing more of her to his hungry stare. Sam's eyes found it almost immediately, the scar that he'd made upon her. Two digits traced it, almost as if admiring it before he placed a kiss upon her chest and pulled her closer, licking his lips as he watched her for a moment. He wanted her to see. Dipping his head to the left, he held her against him as his tongue circled and flicked her nipple, listening out for her sounds. He let her feel his teeth in a gentle pull before he pulled the peak into his mouth, flicking and sucking.

Never before had he been able to give her the kind of attention that he'd wanted to. And now, without her phobia being in the way, he had every intention of indulging her, and himself.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Faina Parker:

Of course his smile only grew at her complaint, causing her blush to deepen further. She should've known better. Sam had never been the type to lay off when told off. After all the basis of their relationship came from his teasing, often quick to point out that what came out of her mouth never matched what her body or heart wanted, at which point she usually tried to hit him.

It was some real bullshit that her own wolf agreed with him now. Fucking traitor. It'd never even met the real him. Let alone this ghost in a dream, who was a werebeast for some reason, so practically designed to be the perfect counterpart to the wolf in her head. She had told him she didn't know if she could control it, and she couldn't, howling in its cage submit submit submit submit like a humming, electrifying undercurrent whenever Sam growled.

Faina would n e v e r admit that even in life Sam had always been the more dominant one between them, despite doing her damndest to prove otherwise, and now even her own wolf was against her in this fight. It clawed at her and seemed to magnify the emotions in her head, pawing and kneading until she couldn't tell where it ended and her own thoughts began.

She would blame the dream for this, making this scenario as if to lure the wolf. Putting Sam in front of her, like this, the confessions of a dead man, the ring, her phobia gone. Touch starved and desperate for him in every way, able to do what she hadn't even dared to fantasize about. There was a demon lurking in the fire of his gaze and Faina couldn't wait to be consumed by it.

She met that hungry look in his eyes almost defiantly, a taunt, daring him to take it if he wants it so bad. Even as she shuddered and a soft, breathy moan escaped past her lips just from his hands on her breasts, the rough pads of his fingers sliding, tugging, refusing to break eye contact, leaving her squirming. She released his hands and reached for him, tracing the features of his face she knew so well by sight but not by touch, eventually sliding her fingers back into his hair at the base of his scalp as he leaned in for another kiss.

The searing heat was too much, between the warmth of his lips and his fingers trailing fire skin on skin back up to her hardened nipples. Fabric is being moved and shifted far too slowly for her liking, and Faina whined softly into his lips, shivering, the mounting frustration that he was going too slow. Before she could be allowed to deepen the kiss his lips were moving again, and her head angled back for better access to her neck on instinct. Her fingers traced down his neck, lightly scratching, insistent, needy, trying to force him closer.

She removed her hands only to slide the plaid shirt from her shoulders and toss it; then she tugged the tank top off and over her head and chucked that, too. He was looking at the scar across her stomach, the only physical remnant of his left on her body after all these years. "Agh!" Faina jerked, gasping in surprise, at the explosion of heat that speared into her core when he traced it. Had it always been that sensitive? Was it just because it was him?

Before she could regather her scattered thoughts that fire in his eyes found hers again and pinned her in its inferno before his tongue traced her nipple and any coherent thoughts she had found disappeared again. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't stop the moans leaving her lips, her hands grabbing onto his shoulders, nails biting into the fabric of his shirt, raking over and down the planes of his back. He'd be lucky if she didn't tear into the threads.

She hated being fucking teased like this. He was too slow, too gentle. He was going to drive her fucking insane. A growl of frustration rose in her throat. How could she force him to stop? Faina adjusted her hips just so and then ground down on the hardness between her thighs, panting, her lips drawn back into a determined snarl. A reminder that there was still entirely too much fabric between them.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Sam Skiles:

In his grasp, she shuddered and moaned. Her eyes were trying to taunt him, trick him into giving her what she wanted. Faina's fingers traced his neck, causing goosebumps to break out across his skin. When she jerked, he grinned, repeating the motion and eyeing her with avid interest before moving on. Her skin was sweet with a dash of salt, and if her scent was anything to go on, the werebeast hoped that her hearth was just as lovely. The thought of tasting her, really tasting her, made him shudder.

Faina's moans was music to his ears. Her hands grabbed his shoulders, nails biting into the fabric of his shirt. The beast writhed and his hands itched, wanting to tear it off of his body. His back arched into the motions and he pulled back with a pop as she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Sam followed her example, flinging his shirt to the floor. Without missing a beat, he claimed her other nipple, immediately sucking it into his mouth for another round of sweet torture. Deciding that she shouldn’t be twisting alone in this fire, Faina adjusted and ground down against the length of his erection. 

The fire in his eyes sparked into an inferno. Sam rutted up into her in response, releasing her again with a hiss, hips moving in an imitation of the act they both longed to fulfill. Between her scent and the friction, she was going to drive him mad. The threads to his already frayed restraint were set aflame, and in his inner panic to try and put out the fire, the monster slipped past.

When she met his gaze next, it wasn't Sam looking back at her - but the beast that dwelled in him that looked back, his gaze that of a green lava that threatened to set her ablaze where she sat. Snarling, he grabbed her and threw her on the other side of the couch. His hands roughly grabbed her cotton shorts and gave a harsh yank, to free her and feed his hungry stare once more. 

And then the look was gone. Green eyes trailed upon her legs and rested on her center, where she was completely bare before him, and he could see her arousal. No panties. She smelled so good that his tongue danced behind his lips in anticipation. If she was so impatient that she didn't want to be teased anymore, so be it. Sam was more than happy to indulge her, but not in the way she wanted. Not yet.

The werebeast met her eyes briefly, turning towards her fully and folding his legs beneath him as his hands found her thighs and pulled her towards him. He pulled her lower body up towards his face, arms wrapping around her stomach to keep her still as he licked his lips. If she protested, it would fall on deaf ears. And if she pushed, he would not be moved. But now he was shaking. 

This wasn't something that he normally had the chance to do. Her phobia made any kind of foreplay or oral almost nigh impossible. He only had experience from other women before her and he hoped that his lack of experience wouldn't make this bad for her. Reinare never dared to try it with him; he was always Changed and muzzled. He thought that he would have to play it by ear, but the beast roared louder than his insecurities and hesitantly, he dared to reach through the bars to share control.

His tongue traced firmly through the center of her folds up, flicking the sensitive nub at the top and repeating, gathering up her juices. It was even sweeter than her skin, better than he'd hoped. He listened intently for where she liked it more, and when he found the spot, he attacked it just as he had her nipples. One arm withdrew, letting his hand rest upon her breast to palm and tease. He would devour her until she begged him to end her torment and take her.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Faina Parker:

For a moment, the demon lurking in the inferno surged forward and Faina thought she'd caught him, thought she'd won. A cold prickling chill crawled up her spine staring into the maw of the volcano, primal fear and anticipation broiling together into one.

Faster than a blink he had thrown her to the other end of the couch, torn those pesky shorts, already soaked through, down her legs and off her ankles. The air was knocked from her lungs and her eyes flinched shut on reflex, but neither the speed nor the heat frightened her; rather her lips pulled back into a wicked, triumphant grin and the adrenaline of being hunted coursed through her veins, racing with each pulse, as she gulped air back into her chest. Scenting nothing but her own dripping wet musk and him.

But when she did not immediately feel him on top of her like she expected, Faina's eyes hesitantly slid open, the wicked grin curving into a confused frown. It wasn't the demon still in control behind his eyes, but the look wasn't one she recognized as he stared down at her. What… was he doing? She started to push herself up onto her elbows, frustrated growl in her throat, wanting to reach up and drag him back by force.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Sam Skiles:

Cold realization finally dawned on her that it was a trap and his grin grew crooked. At the first pass, her body arched and shook, a cry spilling from her lips. Sam moaned against her. She's perfect, he thought. 

It was so vivid - the heat of her skin and the cool, sweet slick that now covered his face, the almost flowery and intoxicating stench of her arousal, the silence of the room disturbed only by their sounds... And the elation, the intensity of the heat that burned through his core - it was all so real, like it was actually happening. Except that it couldn't be, that was impossible.

If somehow he lived past this dream and found her in the future, he hoped that maybe, one day, they could have a day like this. That she would react to his actions the same way. It was a pipe dream, an impossible dream just like this one that he would tuck against his heart and take to his grave. She could disappear at any moment, leaving him throbbing and aching with all of the feelings drowning him, his excitement turning to despair. 

Sam held her tighter, sucked harder. Stars, she tasted like home and dreams and citrus and rye, and he couldn't get enough. Had she always tasted like this? And now his nose was filled with her, making the already painful ache almost unbearable. "Fuck!" Faina nearly sobbed, sending a bolt of lightning down his spine and through his abdomen.

"Sam stop, I can't--" She could. Almost there. Whatever merciful god granted him this dream, he prayed that this wasn't the moment that she winked out of existence and he awoke alone in a room that he didn't recognize. His warrior goddess rocked and grinded into him, wanting- no, needing more. Fuck. This was it, he thought. This was how he died. "I can't--... I'm gonna--" Yes. Yes, say it. Say it! He needed her to say it. And mercifully, finally, she cried, "Sam, please--"

A triumphant growl ripped through him. He gave her one last lick, licking his chops as his hands moved her legs from his shoulders. As he lifted to reposition them both, the monster grabbed him by the throat and violently smashed him against the bars of its cage until he relented. Snarling, the beast grabbed the bars and pulled them apart and emerged, free of its cage - at least for the time being. He had been howling to be released since they started. He wouldn't ask again.

Impatiently, he rose to his knees and pulled down his pants and his boxers, freeing his aching length. Nails dug into her sides once more, pulling her to him as he settled between her legs. He moved, pulling them off the rest of the way and used the pants to wipe his face before he tossed them aside. Sam couldn’t stop the deep, rumbling groan that escaped him when he rubbed his throbbing member against her wet cunt, coating him in the evidence of her stimulation. Part of him wanted to draw this out even further, to tease and prolong the delicious torture for as long as they both could stand it. But the demon no longer had the patience.

He watched her, moaning as he sank his length into her; small, shallow thrusts of his hips pushing his cock deeper into her scorching heat until his hips finally rested against the backs of her thighs. The way her body gripped him, the way it molded and clenched around his shaft made it seem as if it was trying to pull him in deeper. The scent of her pheromones were stronger than they had been earlier; even now they dragged him under, entwining with his own instincts to push himself as deep as he could inside of her, to claim her as his own. He let them. His arms moved to either side of her head, his torso floating inches above hers. And then he moved, surging forward. The demon was done with being gentle.

As he began to piston in and out of her, he growled rather than moaned, his nails scraping loudly against the fabric of the couch as his hands balled into fists. She'd wanted and chased the monster... And now, she had him.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Faina Parker:

Faina had lost all ability to think under the onslaught of his eyes, his mouth, his wandering hands. Reality felt like it had slipped away in the night and all that remained was the two of them. Nothing of the time in between still existed. And wouldn't exist, if she had anything to say about it. She didn't want to go back. To where the mere thought of someone in her bubble made her anxious, let alone this, a high so intense the room was spinning and blurring and for once in her life she wasn't using half her consciousness to keep from spiralling into a panic attack.

This was a different kind of spiral. How was it possible to love something, love someone, so much? The fact that it was Sam must be the only reason she could be driven this wild. The fact that he had a demon of a beast did not scare her in the least, but exhilarated her. She wanted his claws to rake into her flesh, to bare her neck to his fangs and cry from the force of his mark. It would be a better death than letting him go again.

He waited until the last second to free her from his tongue, but the triumphant growl that followed was nearly enough to send her over the edge anyway. Faina writhed in his hands, intentionally twisting into the nails moving her as easily as a doll, wanting to be marked. She wrapped her legs around his waist the moment she had a chance to do so, and it was only the force of those hands holding her waist down that she didn't flex those legs and impale herself on him before he was ready.

Faina met the return of the demon with a wicked snarl on her lips and a tempest tossing violently in the dark blue depths of her eyes. Either she would be boiled alive by the heat of the lava or he would be drowned by the force of the waves. There was no in between here.

She didn't have the chance to stop and consider whether it would hurt when his throbbing member finally pushed into her soaking folds, because she didn't care. Bring on the pain, maybe it would help ground her under the force of the storm. Her head fell back, mouth open in a silent scream. Shocked not at the burning heat of being stretched but the sweet relief of finally being full.

She clenched around him so tight as to nearly be painful. Her legs urged him until he was so deep that almost hurt, too. Faina raked her nails up his sides on their way to their destination to wrap her arms around his neck as he draped himself over her. She arched herself into his chest and stole a quick, bruising kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

And then the storm broke.

White hot stars sparked in her vision from the force of his thrusts. Faina howled from the crashing waves of pleasure, more wolf than woman, responding to the possessive rutting growls of the beast on her, in her, surrounding her. Her nails raked across his shoulders hard enough to bleed and she sank her teeth into where his collarbone met his shoulder, hard enough to bruise, sharp enough to break skin.

She wasn't going to last at this pace. It was a miracle she hadn't come already, with the way the crest of the peak seemed so close to splitting her at the seams.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Sam Skiles:

Nails raked up his sides. Her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping him, urging him deeper. And soon her arms encircled his neck, keeping him against her as she stole a searing kiss. He returned it, rolling his hips into her. The sound that escaped her was more beast than woman, calling to the monster that she'd trapped. His nails sank into the leather of the couch, thrusting into her again in retrospect - wanting and needing to keep her howling. Faina's nails raked across his shoulders then, drawing blood, and she lifted herself to clasp her jaws over his skin. As her teeth sank into his flesh hard enough to leave a mark, Sam shuddered and snarled, increasing his pace. His jaws closed with a loud SNAP!, teeth aching to find skin - wanting to mark and be marked.

The force of his thrusts pushed the cushions apart, leaving his feet to push harder against the separated cushion so that he could continue uninterrupted. But it wasn't enough. He needed more. Needed to be deeper, needed to have her skin against him.

One arm withdrew and wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Sam moved back, taking her with him without dislodging into a sitting position with her on his lap. Pointed nails raked up her back. Powerful arms held her in place, one still at her waist and the other across her back, grasping her shoulder. He began to surge up into her scorching heat once more as his mouth found the skin where her neck met her shoulder. A puff of hot breath fanned over her flesh as he bit down, hard enough to leave a dark bruise, canines sharp enough to break skin.

The smell of her intoxicated him, flushed his skin and hazed his mind. The thrill of the hunt had urged him, and now the endorphins of capturing his prey set every fiber of his being ablaze. She was so fucking tight- It was going to fucking end him. The beast growled and snarled possessively, his teeth finding a new spot and locked on her skin to create another mark. If he had his way, she would be bruised and marked all over by time they were done... And then, if the dream allowed, he would take her again. All night, until she couldn't walk straight.

Even when she finally climaxed, the demon's onslaught did not cease. It only picked up. And daring, the monster grabbed one of her hands and brought it to the necklace around his neck. He wanted to be out fully, wanted to claim her properly. Needed to sink his canines into her flesh, leaving a mark that may never fade. 

Sam rose, holding onto the bars of the beasts' cage for support, panicked and feverish against the current of their emotions. He'd seen it happen too many times, his love being ripped apart and devoured by his demon. Even if she was holding the monster's interest now, Sam didn't trust the same to be true after Changing. The werewolf taking control of his human body wasn't the same as when he Changed, when the demon was let out of its cage entirely. If that happened, he wouldn't be able to control himself. He would be helpless. And dream or not, Sam would not risk it. 

"N-n-noo...o." He struggled between growls, trying to plead with her not to do as his beast demanded. But the werewolf squeezed her hand around the talisman, silently telling her to take it off of him by whatever means necessary.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Faina Parker:

Faina had never been averse to pain. You learn to live with it, growing up in a place like Alaska. Receiving it, inflicting it in kind. Pain was as cold and unforgiving as the frozen north. And it was the only thing Faina never felt the urge to recoil from.

All conscious thought lay trapped behind a darkened haze, nestled at the base of her skull. Quiet as if smothered in the depths of the night by an unknown assailant. Instincts drove her now on will alone, primal and wild and violent. In a battle between fight or flight Faina's choice always was - always would be - to fight. And without the pressure of constant thoughts, without the ever-looming behemoth of the phobia lurking in the background, twisting its sick into her skin, the pain might as well have been the same as the pleasure.

Thin trails of blood bubbled under her nails where she raked across his skin, a faint taste of metal and iron on her tongue where the human teeth were strong enough on their own to break skin. Faina's jaw remained locked in place there as he proceeded to blow her world apart, the pain of the speed and the depth drowned by and enhancing the pleasure and heat that coursed through her at every animalistic thrust.

She was surrounded on all sides by heat, over and around and in, her senses assaulted by musk and sweat and the steady noises of their beasts, the demon, the wolf, the beast. Who ended where the other began? There was no way to tell. She arched into him as he adjusted, writhed in his grip as he somehow still brought her closer, deeper when her body could hardly conceive it possible. His nails raked up her spine in turn and as they passed over the scars on her back that remained from her turning, and his teeth finally sank into the crook of her neck, her vision nearly went white.

Faina trembled right on the edge of the precipice. Tears silently trickled down her cheeks again although only from the sheer overwhelming mixture of pleasure and pain attacking from every angle. Her lungs burned from the effort of trying to breathe, the heat scorching her insides and threatening to send her headfirst down the cliff. The only word she could form her lips to say, begging, pleading, "Sam…"

The beast snarled and growled, and his jaw found a new spot to sink his fangs, and Faina lost it. Her body bucked against him as the waves of pleasure finally crashed over her, and she convulsed, her muscles clenching and unclenching rhythmically with each wave. But he didn't stop or slow down; if anything it picked up instead, and a high pitch, keening whine left her throat.

It took her a long moment to realize he had moved her hand to the amulet until the smooth, emerald stone pressed flat against her palm and nerveless fingers closed over it instinctively when he squeezed her hand. Drawn like a moth to a flame she lifted the amulet in her palm and tugged - but it was too gentle, not nearly enough to break the chain. She might not have noticed what it was or what she was doing, too far gone to realize, if not for the panicked, drawn out request that left his lips.

No…? She tried to focus through the haze, struggling to comprehend the verbal instruction when his hand was doing anything but telling her to stop, struggling to think at all when each new thrust brought another crashing aftershock and the darkened haze suppressed all thought.

Faina whined again, a growl of frustration, wanting to submit but not knowing to who or how or why she should. She tugged again but it was still not nearly enough force to either break it loose or pull the chain over his head, almost more of an effort to get her hand off of it in the same motion as pulling it off him.

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Sam Skiles:

As she tugged on the amulet, more to withdraw her hand than to free it from his neck, Sam quivered with relief and fell back against the bars meant for the beast - who snarled inwardly in protest. But the demon didn't push it again when he saw her face, and the tears streaming from her eyes. Those tears were a testament to the mix of pleasure and pain that he gave her, and a wolfish grin broke across his lips. Normally, Sam would have stopped to make sure that she was okay, worried that he was hurting her... The monster inside of him, on the other hand, took it as a form of endearment. Made him happy, even. The only consolation that he gave her was the momentary sweep of his tongue across her left cheek, wiping those tears away for the time being - something that would have been more natural in his beast form, but this would do. He held her against his onslaught, vision blurring to exploding stars and white. He felt as though he was standing on the edge of the precipice himself, but no matter how good it felt, no matter how he moved or how deep he plunged himself inside of her, it was never enough to send him over that edge. Snarling, his nails bit down harder, as if changing his grip would help him get there. It didn't and he squirmed, growls of pleasure soon becoming snarls of frustration.

At some point he moved again, bending her over the armrest of the couch and taking her that way. But that hadn't helped either. What the hell? He'd never had any difficulty climaxing, especially not in his dreams, so why the fuck was it so difficult now? The monster roared and writhed, a fury of clawed feet and teeth. It couldn't continue like this, it needed out. Sam refused to allow it... And the demon did something that he'd never done before. He whined. Whined as though he were in a great deal of pain. For a moment, Sam didn't understand. Until it hit him, too. He was strung out, panting and growling and snarling between pleasure and pain, unable to find sweet release and not wanting to stop til he got there. Except he couldn't get there. So he tried to put it from his mind and focus on her instead. Because of her phobia, it had usually been a one and done kind of arrangement. Now that that wasn't present, at least for the time being, he wondered just how far he could push her.

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Faina Parker:

He moved his hand off hers and Faina was able to release the amulet. She was in no state of mind to even think about wondering why he had wanted her to take it in the first place - it was just a totem, right? No, because other than a momentary pause to lick the tears from her cheek - she hadn't even realized she was crying - Sam didn't give her a moment to breathe. If anything he only got rougher, nails biting harder into the skin, even shifting to a whole new position. Faina moaned, the aftershocks of her climax skittering across her skin like static electricity. Was he not going to give her any break at all? Why hadn't he finished yet? Slowly she started to struggle against him, growls rising in her own throat in warning, to try to give herself space to breathe or, like, one second to not have her brains completely fucked from her body. At this point the pleasure was becoming like tiny stabs of pain into her nerve endings on top of the already existing pain, building in throbbing waves like he was going to bring her to the edge again before he stopped. She twisted in his grip, arching away from the armrest of the couch, and made as if to shove him off.

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Sam Skiles:

When she twists and pushes against him, the beast growls... But he slows and stops in a huff. And after a moment, he shudders, slowly pulling out of her, watching her features as he does so. He's still painfully erect and throbbing, covered in her slick. Sam sits back on the couch, letting Faina adjust and breathe. Maybe she was done? Did she want to stop and pick up or...? He wasn't- this was all new and uncharted territory for him, for her, and he wasn't entirely sure what she wanted. He could keep going, if she wanted to. But. Why hadn't he finished? Why couldn't he climax? Something felt... Wrong. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was sensory overload or some bullshit with her, and he couldn't. Was that what it was? Too much? Should he go to the bathroom and finish himself off, to get some kind of relief or...?

Oh no. Oh God. Was he broken? Did he finally break?? It would be just his luck - the best dream he'd had in years, and he was broken. Maybe this was a cruel joke... Maybe she'd cursed him while she let him have his momentary freedom.

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Faina Parker:

She had half-expected that it would take more effort to force him to stop, but he does after the first few tries. A harsh shudder wracks her frame as he pulls out, her teeth set in a grimaced snarl of pain. But the relief is near immediate; she sags back against the armrest, eyes closed, panting and desperately trying to remember what breathing feels like, as the Shifter's healing is already repairing the broken skin and leaving only smears of bloodstains behind.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, it's with a completely bewildered look as she realizes he is still rock hard. And something else is off, she notes, a sense of distress she reads more intuitively from knowing him than picking up any outward signs; her mouth curves down in a slight frown and she crawls back over to him.

Wordlessly, Faina reaches to run the fingers of one hand along his jaw to cup his cheek, and captures his lips for a soft kiss. The other reaches to run light, trembling fingers the length of his erection. She rests her forehead on his, searching his eyes.

"You okay?" She asks, by way of implying how can I help?

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Sam Skiles:

Frustrated, and probably annoyed, the monster pads back to his cage, throwing Sam out as he does so. If he wants to torment himself, he can do it on his own. It left him... Alone, for the first time in his head since becoming a werewolf. He wasn't sure if he liked it, the silence the demon left behind. Especially now when he could be alone with his thoughts. Surely he was cursed. There was no other explanation to why he couldn't- when they- it had to be a curse. He feels her shift over before he hears it, turning to look at her as she crawled over to him. Oh shit, she can sense it, can't she- All of his thoughts derail when soft lips find his, and he leans into it. Yeah, he thinks to himself, she's done. And that's okay, he could just run to the bathroom real quick and... And then her hand traces his length and he shudders. Or maybe he could just... sit with her instead. She rests her forehead against his, searching his eyes. He's not sure what she's looking for. "You okay?" She asks. No...? Maybe? Oh, she meant- right. The werebeast clears his throat and licks his lips. If he's honest with himself, he doesn't remember the last time he even thought about her doing that. The thought makes him throb, eager. "I could use a little extra help." He admits, his cheeks tinging red. He's never had trouble with this, never needed help for that and it's... embarrassing.

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Faina Parker:

Her slight frown of concern shifts to a devious little smirk. After all that, practically trying to rip her apart, and he's the one blushing? "Idiot." She teases him, chuckling, and leans in for a slower, more languid kiss. Her pulse - which had just started trying to determine whether it knew was a regular heartbeat pattern still was - begins to flutter again, with nervous energy.

They had tried this several times, none of which had been successful thanks to the phobia. Turned out foreplay of most kinds were completely out. With that not being an obstacle... and she still has to pay him back for earlier... he's not the only one with a beast in his head, after all.

Faina traces her fingers back down his length and wraps her hand around the base of the shaft. She breaks the kiss so she can watch his expression as she gives a few slow, experimental strokes. Deliberately slow and teasing, testing pressure and how he likes it best. The motion is easy and smooth since he is still covered in her. But she tilts her head, eyes hooded. The tempest may have calmed but there is still a storm lurking in her eyes.

"Am I doing this right?" She asks, deceptively innocent. "Do you like it?"

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Sam Skiles:

She teases him, but that's not what causes a soft grin to mar his features. It's her chuckle. Sam had had a lot of things going for him when he led the Ravagers. Luck had never exactly been one of them. Life had always dealt him the hand with the useless cards until she came along. Honestly, how had he ever gotten so lucky? Maybe, he thought, it had all went into bringing them together. He meets her halfway, capturing her mouth. She's spoiling him with kisses in this dream, he thinks. How could he ever go back to being without them? Her touch snaps him out of his thoughts as her fingers wrap around his base. Goosebumps pepper over his thighs with her experimental strokes. When she squeezes, his fingers dig into the leather of the couch and he groans. He knows exactly how he likes it - a tight pressure, but not too tight, and rough, quick pumps - but he doesn't want to school her. Her eyes are hooded, but there's still a storm raging in those blues... God, she's- She's something else in this dream. And that feigned innocence... He moves his hands under his thighs, biting back the intense urge to grab her and push her where he needed her most. Right as she asks, she's gotten the pressure right and he rewards her work with a low moan. "God, yesss." He leans back, his hips beginning to move of their own accord in a slow buck to match her pace. "Just like that."

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Faina Parker:

This is too much power for her to have. Shivers trace their path down her spine at the moans coming from Sam's mouth. They don't quite spear her through like the growls were doing before - which, thank god for that - but a more lazy, content warmth spreads through her. She had wanted so badly to be physically close to him. He might have said it didn't matter, and believed it, but she always wanted to please him and it drove her crazy that she could never stomach it long enough to do it. There had been many a fight because she pushed herself too far too hard. They seem so stupid, now; would she have fought him so much if she had known it would come to an end? Maybe, maybe not. She strokes him, drinking him in, drinking in the fact that she could do this at all, even in a dream. And after a little bit of time, she shifts down to stretch herself across his lap, and, swallowing the nerves in her throat, traces her tongue across the head of his shaft before taking him into her mouth.

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Sam Skiles:

During their relationship, he had resigned himself to being okay with touch being something sacred between them. There had been times that he'd craved wanting to be close to her, to be able to leisurely hold her and cuddle, and of course things in the bedroom... He knew that she had wanted that for them too, but wasn't able to push past her phobia to do it. They'd fought about it when she pushed herself too hard, and he'd always told her that it was okay. Just the fact that she wanted so badly to try had been enough for him. His eyes close. She'd probably be pissed, or maybe jealous, about this dream. Because it could only happen in a dream. The dream of a dying man. He moans as she strokes him, intoxicated just by watching her... She's so into it that his mouth runs dry looking at her. Her hands wring from him moans and shivers, even shudders and hissing intakes of air. He could melt from this kind of spoiling. This is way too much power for her to hold over him and it excites him. She continues to do it just as he likes, and his breath hitches. He's back on the cliff. Every part of him feels like a stick of TNT lit from both ends, ready to blow at any moment. Wherever she touches, goosebumps spread across his flesh and he shivers. Faina's weight shifts and his eyes click open, seeing her stretched across his lap. What was she doing? Was she about to- Her tongue traces his crown and his head falls back into the leather, body seizing up as a hiss leaves him before he can stop it. Oh God. If she does that, it'll be the end of him. He hopes.

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Faina Parker:

Now they really are heading into a territory where she has no idea what the fuck she's doing. Not that that's going to slow her down at this point. Not when he's clearly enjoying himself. And she's enjoying spoiling him. Somehow she isn't shy or embarrassed at all by this brazen display; maybe because it isn't real? Or just the lack of the phobia is just that freeing that even though it's only a dream, she is happy just to make him happy. To see him happy, again, after all this time. Faina flicks her eyes up to his face as he seizes under her. She can taste her, him, them on her tongue and she slowly lowers her head and takes him into her mouth. She bobs her head, once, seeing how deep she can go - it's not far - before she starts to figure out a steady pace of her mouth and her hand.

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Sam Skiles:

Just when he thinks that she's revealed all of her surprises, she gives him another - taking him into her mouth. "Fa-" The words die in his throat as she tests just how far she can go. It's not far, but that doesn't matter, he doesn't care. Her lips... the feel of her mouth... to think that he could be spoiled this much... As if he needed any more reminders that it was a dream. A wonderful, beautiful, naughty dream. Perhaps it was a manifestation of all of the things he wished they'd gotten to experience. Maybe it was wishful thinking, a secret to having all of his needs met before he left this place for a better world.

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Faina Parker:

She can still pick out her name, half-strangled and cut off as it was, and she can't help the wolfish purr that rolls along the back of her throat. This is payback from earlier, leaving him to twist alone in this inferno, and feeding into her desire to please him in the same moment. She couldn't exactly say that she had dreamt of this moment - but isn't that what was happening now? The phobia gone, the wolf perfectly in sync with her own thoughts and desires, the satisfied burn of a climax in her muscles and the love of her life back in her arms. Writhing underneath her because of something she was doing, no less. Nothing short of a miracle. She has no idea why he still hasn't finished yet, but if this is supposed to be some sort of reflection of her subconscious desires, then it's probably because she wants to be the one to cause it, right? To work him into such a fever pitch that he would explode, in a way she could have never done for him while he was alive, no matter how much she wanted to. It was all so unfair. The dream in reality was incredibly cruel, to bring him back to her like this, to give her everything she had ever wanted to give him in life. As if to say, see how it all could have been, if only? If only he hadn't gotten greedy. If only she has paid closer attention to the signs. If only she had the wolf earlier and this fucking phobia wasn't an obstacle. But at least until the dream finally fades Faina wants to allow herself time to revel and wallow in the endorphins and the happiness she feels now. Even with no idea what the fuck she's doing, Sam's noises and small movements are enough to tell her she's doing the right thing and finds a rhythm he particularly seems to enjoy, and she latches onto it. With no intention of stopping or slowing down.

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Sam Skiles:

All rational thought bled out of him. The only ones left behind were of how it felt and how she looked, how her sounds even now were stoking his inner fires. This dream was the best. Sam bit his lip when a long, appreciative moan left him, his vision fading to white and stars. "Faina... Mmm." Both sides of the TNT lines met at long last. His breath became short and shallow, ready to burst at the seams. But rather than tumble from the cliff and explode, like he felt he would at any second, he only seemed to hover.

The sweet friction continued. He didn't budge.

He only throbbed painfully where she had him, and his body started to shake.

Oh. Oh, he realized. He couldn't- This wasn't a dream. It wasn't even a nightmare.

This was hell.

He was dead.

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Faina Parker:

She might've considered not listening to his protests if not for the emotion in his voice. She had said the same thing earlier, after all, and they had fallen on equally deaf ears. She could be excused in her quest for payback if she just casually ignored his hands at her shoulders and the words of protest. The problem was, the emotion sounds wrong, not just in this moment but coming from him in general, and it rings warning bells in the back of her skull. To at least acknowledge if nothing else. So she opens her eyes and shoots him a look, narrow-eyed and questioning - and then registers the look on Sam's face. The unshed tears in his eyes. She immediately stops and sits back up, worry and alarm lancing through her head in equal measure. "Hey--" What's wrong? What happened? Had she done something to hurt him on accident? Faina shifts back closer and reaches for him, a motion that is as alien to her as it feels familiar, resting one hand on his shoulder and the other to cup his cheek. "It's-- okay, you're all right. Is it - did I - ... what's wrong?"

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Sam Skiles:

Maybe there was too much going on in his head. Maybe it was this, all of this, being emotionally overloading and that was why he couldn't. But that didn't make any sense. This was a dream, none of that should've mattered. Right? Or maybe, maybe his mind was trying to tell him something. The monster had wanted out earlier, but that wasn't abnormal and didn't raise any flags. Was his subconscious trying to tell him that something was wrong? Of course it fucking was. He spent every day in a living hell. There was always something wrong. So why now, when he was with his love and happy... She stops and the shaking continues for a moment. Then it stops. He feels himself throb again, painfully. Why? Why was this happening? There's something wrong. Wrong with him. Faina spoke to him and for a moment, it didn't register. It wasn't until she rested one hand on his shoulder and cupped his face with the other that he seemed to snap back. She was concerned, and spoke as if maybe... it had been because of her. Like she had done something wrong. Like she had broken him. He wanted to scream and curl up into a ball, disappear somewhere. Anywhere. "I can't... come." He realizes, horrified. "Something must be wrong with me. I'm... broken. I must be. I'm sorry, Faina."

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Faina Parker:

It took Sam a long moment to return from the thousand yard stare, and then when he does, the words don't... make sense. A confused silence follows as Faina tries to process the string of words together in a way that lends towards any sort of coherence. He physically couldn't finish, and he thought he was... She stares at him, the gears clearly turning in an attempt at processing what to... do, about that. It feels like a strange splash of reality in the otherwise hazy atmosphere of this dream, as hyper-realistic as it was, and yet in the same breath Sam is, well... dead. So. She shouldn't be shocked that he couldn't finish. Still, how exactly do you comfort a ghost for having a problem coming? That was... not something she could say she was well versed in doing. Or had even considered would need done. "No, no. Don't apologize, you haven't done anything to be sorry for." She soothes, squeezing his shoulder, almost fierce in his own defense. "You're not broken. Nothing's wrong with you. You're stressing and it's making you freak out. But it's okay. I promise. You're okay." Her fingers trace circles against his skin, rubbing her palm against his cheek in a motion that is mesmerizing for her as it is meant to be soothing for him. Still so strange to feel something that your sight had memorized but never really touched.

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Sam Skiles:

Faina is silent and it haunts him. It's too quiet. Sam hates the quiet. He knows that she's thinking, processing... But the silence is deafening, pounding in his ears. She tried to soothe him, encourage him, feed him positivity. His old self would have believed her, would have been comforted. Hell, this wouldn't have bothered the old him at all. It would have been frustrating, but not really a problem. And while he should have taken comfort in those words even now... he couldn't.

"You haven't done anything to be sorry for." Yes, he had. He hadn't been honest with her. He'd sent her away. He'd left her while the rest of them had gone to die. And he never should have gotten involved with the pack. All of this had happened because of his decisions. The life he lived now was his punishment.

"You're not broken." But he was. He'd attempted suicide. Suicide. Not just once, but more than he cared to admit. He had been broken, mentally and physically. Sometimes, he forget why he held on, other than wanting some sense of normalcy.

"Nothing's wrong with you." There was. She couldn't see it here in this dream, but there was. Seeing her in the hallway and taking her to this room was the most normal thing he'd done in years. For a moment, he'd felt like himself again.

Until his own body proved that he was broken. She was probably right about stressing and it making him freak out, but it bounced off the walls and into the abyss, forgotten.

"It's okay." It wasn't. If he wasn't dead, it wasn't okay. He wasn't free. He would wake from this dream with an ache in his heart, forced to return to his personal hell. "You're okay."

No... Sam hears her. He hears her. But he doesn't believe her. His libido dies as the tears he'd suppressed fall down his cheeks. He covers his face, pulling his knees to his chest.

This really was hell.

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Faina Parker:

Somehow, she is and is not surprised when the words have no effect. Sam doesn't seem to be all present anymore, and for a moment the icy grip of fear squeezes around her heart and her breath hitches at the thought that he might be about to fade from under her fingers. The ghost gone, the dream over. That's it. Back to cold, sharp reality. Alone in another hotel room. A different ring on her finger. Different time, different place... same story. He doesn't fade, but it is a shock to her system when the tears begin to fall, and he shrinks away from her and in on himself. Her hand falls away as his come up to cover his face. "Sam--" She swallows against the lump forming in her throat. "Hey--" Faina hesitates only long enough to inhale a sharp, shaky breath, before she follows after him even as he tries to curl in on himself. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and cradles him to her chest, tucking his head under her chin. He may try to push her away, but she wouldn't be deterred - not when this is the one time she can actually comfort him and not feel useless. "Idiot." She mutters, her voice thick. Just like the ghost of a dead man to have an existential crisis about being broken. Of course he is. He fucking would, too. And why does guilt want to worm its way in, as if she's the one with the problem? She isn't the type to emotionally respond when others do - in fact, she is ordinarily the awkward, aloof kind, unsure what to do with any emotion that isn't anger or frustration. But this is... different. This is Sam, distraught, and it doesn't matter how many years and how much hatred lay between them in the past, how much his ghost has to answer for - it still breaks her heart.

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Sam Skiles:

For fuck's sake. Of all the times to fall apart... it fucking would be now, with her, after making love and all of that emotion. In a fucking dream that had become something of a nightmare. Stupid. Couldn't even do that right. Fucking useless. Disappear! Like the flip of a switch, his dreams had returned to haunt him - something that should have struck him as odd, if he were capable of doing so. They plagued him like they did outside of his dreams, laughing and spiteful, in familiar voices long gone. The ghosts of his family, manifestations of his regret, continued to spit insult after insult - growing angrier and angrier until they were practically screaming at him. It wouldn't hurt if it weren't their voices. It wouldn't hurt if what they said wasn't true. Look at you. Crying. Weak. Weak. WEAK. WEAK!! Can't even enjoy a dream anymore. You were supposed to be strong. And now you're- Their voices faded away like smoke when Faina's words cut in. A momentary relief. He couldn't let her see him, not like this, not even in a dream. He remembered a time that he could be consoled. When Sandra was allowed to spend more time with him, allowed to reach in through the bars and wrap her arms around him, petting his hair. Sandra, who hated being dirty, not caring how much of his blood got on her.

It seemed like a distant memory, when she was a comfort. It felt like a long time ago now, when he saw for the first time just how much she'd changed. When he learned that she wasn't a comfort that he could always confide in. He had done something - he doesn't remember what - that had pissed off their master.

Reinare was no fool. She knew how to beat a werewolf.

Sandra had been there, eyes wide with horror and sadness. But rather than stop the aether, she'd cried against the wall, staring at him. "You shouldn't have made her angry." She told him. "You were bad. You shouldn't make master angry." She knew that she couldn't save him from Reinare. But still...

Arms wrap around his shoulders and he tenses, even as he feels her cradle him against her chest. Sam didn't try to push her away. Through the curtain of despair that shrouded him, her warmth seeped through. "Idiot." She sounds like they do, but she wasn't screaming it at him. It had been a mutter and unlike them, it was... it felt normal. Natural. The werebeast's hands find her arms and cling to her, laying his head against her. She doesn't have to say it. He knows. Faina loves him, even now. She was the idiot. And he loved her all the more for it.

"I'm sorry..." It gave him a safe place, a small little piece of heaven, for him to fall apart. And he did. "I'm sorry..." He repeats it until his voice cracks and becomes hoarse, as if the words would somehow reach her outside of this dream. Until finally, his tears run dry maybe twenty minutes later.

Faina had never been the consoling type. She'd never been good at dealing with these types of situations. Holding him was the best thing he could have asked for. To feel loved in his moment of weakness, and to feel safe to have that time of vulnerability, seemed to be exactly what he needed. Despite now feeling like his head was about to split open.

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Faina Parker:

It takes her a second to register Sam is repeating "I'm sorry" over and over - and it doesn't sound like he is just apologizing for this sudden tonal shift in mood and behavior. Or the sudden onslaught of tears. Faina only squeezes him tighter in her arms, silent and brooding, leaning in as he clings to her. It's... disconcerting to hear him apologize like this. Almost disquieting, a prickling along her spine. Because really, he should be. He should be really fucking sorry for everything he had done. And if this ghost was here in reality as penance he should be basically groveling at her feet. It's the LEAST he could do. And had she not imagined it often enough? And yet hearing it now... her instinct is to tell him to stop. To shush him. And it's on the tip of her tongue to tell him that all can be forgiven, because he's here, now, back in her arms, and the past is the past. She had told him earlier she would claw him out of hell to pay his retribution personally, and she still meant it. That she still loves him despite all the between. They can fix it. They can. He can stop punishing himself for mistakes long since paid for by blood. But she doesn't say it. She knows it's a lie unless she can make good in her promise to follow him. She only holds him tightly in her arms and lets him sob out his grief against her, swallowing back the urge to join him. She rocks gently back and forth, humming tunelessly under her breath instead of speaking, until the sobs slow to sniffles and he takes his first normal breath in a minute. She chuckles and bumps her forehead into his head, nuzzling. Faina makes an effort for her tone to sound normal, as if what just happened hadn't happened. "Yeah. That'd be nice. I bet these showers beat the shit out of the one at the warehouse."

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Sam Skiles:

Sam takes a moment to wipe his eyes and face, to make his vision less blurry at least, as he takes a steady breath. His warrior goddess bumps her forehead against his head, nuzzling him. He returns the gesture.

The effort that she makes to sound normal doesn't go unnoticed, and he tries to return the favor, forcing a chuckle. "Yeah, I'm sure they do." The one earlier certainly had. And the bathtub looked like a Jacuzzi, jets and all. How nice it would be to take a relaxing bath with her... But a shower would do, too. Anything, so long as Faina was with him. Just for a little longer.

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Faina Parker:

Faina relaxes her grip by measures of degrees, just as reluctant to ease up and let go as he was about settling back. There is still worry nagging at her that this was going to end at any moment the way dreams so often did. Especially after all this. It had felt for a moment like he was fading - trapped in some distant hell she couldn't reach. What was she going to do once it was over? How could she reach him if his spirit faded and the dream died? She had already somewhat decided the how - but how difficult was it to destroy a totem? Her thoughts stall and fade off as he finally releases her and moves to stand, which she allows, and allows the worry and dark thoughts to fade with it. Faina takes the moment to stretch - the markings are gone and the bruises all but faded already. Only red stains remain from where his nails had clawed her, or she him. That's actually a little disappointing. "Who's spoiling who, here?" She says, but taking the offered hand without complaint and gets to her feet. Or, well, tries. That's when the real damage is revealed - no sooner is her weight on her feet than her knees immediately buckle and nearly sends her straight back onto the couch. If she hadn't been holding his hand, she would have. Instead she wobbles, dangerously unsteady, and clings to him. It takes a second to figure out the how and why - her legs were essentially jelly and everything between her hips was on fire. And a deep scarlet red blush explodes on her face. "Don't." The warning leaves her lips before she even looks at him, wide eyed and threatening. "I - am fine." Which was true. It didn't exactly hurt, per se, she just... couldn't really... walk.

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Sam Skiles:

Well if she wanted to get technical, they were spoiling each other. But he notices as she stretches that all of the marks he'd left on her had already healed, leaving only red stains. Stains that would be gone after the shower. Damn. If he ever got the chance to see her again as a shifter, the werebeast noted that he should be a bit rougher. Maybe they'd stay longer then. Faina takes his hand and stands, or rather, tries. Her knees buckle and she wobbles, unsteady. Sam wraps an arm around her to steady her as she clings to him. For a moment, they're both puzzled but it only takes a second for realization to dawn on them. A dangerous, wolfish grin curls his lips as she blushes. He'd never rendered her unable to walk before... "Don't." She warns, meeting his triumphant gaze. Oooh. Ooooh. This. This he likes. "I - am fine." She'd gone looking for his demon and she'd pulled him out for a little while. Faina had no one to blame but herself. "Mhm~" His hoarse voice is a playful purr. Holding her against him, he takes her to the bathroom. It's as large and lavish as the rest of the hotel - made from sleek white marble with gold accents, and hints of gray stone along the center of the glass, walk in shower for two and around the rim of the stone tub. The closer they get to the tub, he confirms that there are jets in it - along with spots to sit. It was fancier, somehow, than the other room he'd found in the waking world. He also noted the essentials resting in their respective spots in both the shower and on the side of the tub. They had everything they needed. Sam hated to admit it... But it was beautiful. He sets her on the edge of the tub, placing a kiss upon her forehead. "Maybe a bath, then." He says, already turning the faucet on. Hot but not too hot. It heats up almost immediately. "Jets... Fancy. It'll be good for your muscles."

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Faina Parker:

It's too late and her warning falls on deaf ears. He realizes the cause in the same moment that she does, so by the time she looks at him Sam already looks smug as hell about it. She jerks her gaze away with a huff before that dangerous grin can make her heart do flips. FINE. He can have this one. JUST THIS ONE. She couldn't say she didn't beg for it, after all. Which was... all sorts of embarrassing. Fucking traitor wolf. Traitor wolf currently asleep in the back of her consciousness, having got everything it desired and then some. Submit my ass, you traitor, this is your fault. Still, Sam can manage easily enough on his own and he doesn't tease, so she lets it drop. The bathroom is every bit as gorgeous as the rest of the hotel, but, as before with the room, Faina isn't looking at it - she's looking at Sam. Drinking him in. Puzzling over him, really. She doesn't let him set her down with just a forehead kiss, stealing a quick peck on the lips. She grumbles wordlessly and rolls her eyes at the comment about the jets. "I can stand for a shower," she complains, which is a lie, and she makes no attempt to prove it wrong. "But... this is fine too, I guess."

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Sam Skiles:

The ability to just... Kiss her was nothing short of amazing, and she took advantage of it whenever she had the chance, he noticed. She complained that she could stand for a shower and he laughed. They both knew she couldn't. "There's enough room for both of us." He says, fetching two fresh towels from the bar on the wall behind them. They're soft and super clean, the kind of white he'd only seen in snow. Sam sets them beside the tub and reaches in with one hand, testing the water temperature. When he's pleased with it, he rises, scooping Faina into his arms with ease. He steals a soft kiss, then climbs in and sits, setting her in front of him. The water feels heavenly, almost as heavenly as her skin is against his. Wordlessly, he turns on the jets and pulls her into his lap, resting his arms around her waist as he nuzzles her. The only sound is of the water filling the tub.

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Faina Parker:

The room in the tub is true enough - looking at it is almost like looking at a small swimming pool in her eyes. She folds her arms across her chest and 'hmph's to show how she feels about his comment, though. Under normal circumstances, this level of both manhandling and pampering would be out of the question. Not even taking the phobia into account. Faina is independent and self-sufficient to a fault; and yet not only does she only react to him scooping her back up with a giggle, but it's hard for Sam to steal a kiss if she steals it first. Kissing him with zero repercussions is a marvel in and of itself, and she wants it all, hoarding kisses like precious jewels. The water of the tub feels a little like the water from the hot springs in town - it wouldn't surprise her to learn the hotel draws from the springs themselves as a water source. Faina lets out a heavy, contented sigh and snuggles back against him, resting her head on his shoulder and half shutting her eyes. She is physically exhausted but mentally wired, and soaks it all in. "Hey." She rolls her head so she can look up into his eyes. A warm, lazy smile crosses her lips. "I love you. No matter what. You got that? It's always you."

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Sam Skiles:

She rests against him and him against her, and everything else fades away. The water is a dull roar in his ears. He squeezes her gently, letting out a contented exhale. He's vaguely aware of the rising water levels, and the jets massaging their sides and legs, just as he's aware that she can't see him. Not fully. That had been intentional, so she couldn't see the scars and... Other things. Like parts of him that were missing. Sam presses a kiss to her head. "Hey." Faina rolled her head back, looking up at him. Green eyes look back at her, soft and full of love. As she smiles at him, he grins back at her. It almost falters when she tells him that she loves him, and a lump forms in his throat. He knows... But it's... It's nice - really nice - to hear it. He swallows it. "I love you too, kid."

But he sees something in those blue eyes... Something that unnerves him. Something he recognizes. His smile fades and he clears his throat, trying to get his voice back. "Faina." It's somewhat successful. It's more firm. "Promise me something. Promise me you won't do anything stupid." Anything stupid. Like he had, in his several attempts. Attempts she didn't need to know about.

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Faina Parker:

She did notice that something was different, physically, about him than she could remember - but it is a testament to the haziness of the dream that it doesn't register on a conscious level. And once she can no longer see him fully, can no longer attempt to puzzle out how it's different or put her finger on why that would be wrong, the urge to do so fizzles away and she forgets she was even trying. There is a flood of warmth through her heart at his reply. She knows, too, but it had been five years since she heard him say it out loud and not just echoes of memories. Then... her smile fades a little when Sam's does, confused, worried again - forgetting the familiarity goes both ways and he can read her as easily as she can him. Faina's expression withdraws, guarded, and she looks away without immediately answering. She puts her arms over his, intertwining their fingers together. Holding him, holding her, staring into the water. Her first urge is to play dumb, but there isn't much point; they both know feigning ignorance to what he meant would be a lie. She would go on a suicide mission if it meant saving the ones she loved, then and now - and is this not the ultimate trial? Her next urge is to get angry, again - it's not his call to make and he has long since lost the right to tell her what do to. If she wants to go after him - fuck him, that's her choice, not his. But the indignation she wants to wrap her recklessness in doesn't... want to come. As if recognizing the instinct is blinded by grief and not from any real desire to go through with it. They aren't star-crossed lovers. Sam is dead. Chasing after him achieves nothing. She knows this, but can't bring herself to say it. "I..." Faina swallows back the mournful tone and tries again, scathing but with no heat. "I don't owe you anything. But... fine. Okay. I promise. Asshole."

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Sam Skiles:

At first, he expects her to play dumb and deny it. Or get angry. Anger had always been her go to. He hopes that the steam leaves her, and that she didn't try to fight him on this. Anything but this. She was out there somewhere and he had a long life ahead of him, if he also didn't do anything stupid. Wherever she was, they were in two completely different situations. Faina in the walking world already thought he was dead, there was no reason that she didn't. If he went, nothing would change. It would likely be better for her if he never escaped, never had the chance to find her. All it was at this point was wishful thinking anyway. And what would finding her in reality do? Undo all of her healing. Rob her off whatever future she was living. He didn't have the right, even if it was always him. Even if... She had really settled. That would be better than dealing with the reality of seeing, of knowing, what he'd been through. What Sandra had been through. The last thing he wanted to do was to taint her memory of him. That's what he told himself. But... This, this feels different. Sam isn't sure why or how, but it does. There was nothing for her to follow if he wasn't dead. Acting on grief wouldn't unite them. Chasing after him in that way would be fruitless. Faina stared into the water. Before it gets too high, he turns off the faucet, his arm returning to it's place as he waits. Swallowing back a mournful tone, she tells him that she doesn't owe him anything. She's right. She doesn't. But she promised, and the tension bleeds out of his body. Sam hugs her tightly, turning her face by the chin to capture her mouth, hoping to rob the sorrow from it. "Thank you." He whispers, pressing another kiss to her cheek - over and over again. "I... Will try not to, either." That was the best he could do. He couldn't make that promise. "But always know that I love you. Always. It's always you too, kid."

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Faina Parker:

She wants to hold on to what righteous indignation she can muster, what grief will allow her to cling to - but she can sense and feel the relief flooding him as she finally says it, and her lips are stolen for another kiss as he draws her tighter into his embrace. Stretched out with him in the warmth and relaxation of the tub, physically sated and emotionally exhausted... The mixture of emotions fades before it can be overwhelming and she giggles, shooting him an annoyed look as he kisses her cheek over and over. She doesn't make any move to stop him, though. She notes he doesn't make the same promise back. Strange choice of words for a ghost. "Don't call me that. I wasn't a kid then and I sure as fuck am not one now." She bumps her head into his chin, playfully. Her old nickname is a routine she could play out by heart. "I can take care of myself, you know. You're the kid here, not me." Faina holds out her left hand in front of her; the emerald ring on her finger glitters and sparkles in the light, dewy from being submerged and the steam rising from the water. She studies it, turning her hand this way and that in the light. It looks and feels so real there, pride of place, as if her engagement ring had never been a sapphire at all. "You did good." She confirms, with a smirk and a glance cast back up in his direction.

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Sam Skiles:

Sam disregards the look that she gives him over the kiss assault to her cheeks. Each one was a silent middle finger to her phobia and to time, and he hoarded them like gold. She didn't move to stop him, responding to his words instead and bumping into his chin playfully. He nuzzles her, a gentle smile corking the record of his lips. He'd missed this. God how he'd missed this. Missed her. "Says the one that still gets embarrassed by sex." He teases, arching his brows playfully. He watches as she holds out her left hand, examining the ring. Right. Better lighting in here, she could see it more. And so can he. It's more than a perfect fit, it looks as though it belongs there. Finally home, at long last. As if she hadn't been wearing another ring when they'd entered the room not long ago. Sam had almost forgotten about that. Almost. "You did good." He grins from the praise. But... He can't take all of the credit. "Thank goodness. I couldn't tell you how many places Sandra took me to to find the perfect one. She helped. You know how she is with gems."

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Faina Parker:

Faina doesn't even get a chance to come to her own defense, because a deep red blush is already crawling over her cheeks as he teases her. "Well -- that's -- that's different." She sputters, scowling at him. "It's not like I've spent the last five years sleeping around, or anything." Not that it hadn't been from a lack of trying. Lack of interest, most definitely. But the wolf had a lot more strong feelings on the desire for intimacy than she had since Sam's death. She hums an ahhhh in acknowledgement as he admits that Sandra helped. She always had the best eye for jewelry, and between the three ladies of the Ravagers, she was the only super girly-girl who could've helped him. Lily had been as disinterested in jewelry outside of its value as Faina. She would've known what to pick best. "Knew you couldn't have pick something this nice by yourself." Faina teases. She flexes her fingers, and the emerald stone twinkles, radiant, as it catches the light. For a second she catches herself idly wondering who Isaac had gotten help from - he hadn't done it by himself either, surely, and she had never asked. Leo, maybe? Leo was his closest friend, after all. She couldn't even think who was her closest female friend, outside of Madison... Helena, Drucilla, Ilosti, Anette... and none of them were anything close to what she had with Sandra. Isaac would've been on his own. The two thoughts together, Sandra and Isaac, makes her chest ache in a sharp, painful way it hadn't yet done during this dream. It's a sharp pang that feels so real, and she tenses, lowering her hand back down. No. She already decided that what lay outside this dream didn't matter. She was going to stay fully here, in the moment, with Sam, until it was over. Fuck, she should've never made that fucking promise. She already regrets it. To distract herself, Faina tilts her head to pepper kisses along his jaw and up his cheek. Payback. "Well, anyway. You both did good."

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Sam Skiles:

A blush creeps across her features. She stutters and he laughs, her defense ineffective. It feels good to laugh. Granted, he hadn't either, but he also hadn't tried. What had happened hadn't been his choice, and he hadn't been himself when it happened either. Time was lost in his cage; he wasn't even sure how long it had been since the last time. Not really. And he doesn't want to know. "As if you'd care what it looked like, so long as it had an emerald." Sam teases back, chuckling. "You joked but I listened." She'd been absolutely right though. He'd researched places to go but didn't really know what to look for, aside for a green stone. Sandra, however, knew exactly where to take him and what to look for. Even had an eye to tell when the gems were real or not, and she refused to let him even consider anything that wasn't real. A pang shoots through him before he can stop it. It had been a little while. He missed her... And the time apart makes his jaw clench. What would she be like, the next time they saw each other? Faina kisses his jaw and up his cheek. He shivers, letting out a sharp exhale. He was here with her... He shouldn't be thinking about... That. "Thanks. I'll let her know." Sam leans down, claiming her mouth again for a quick kiss. Then he reaches for the soap and scrubber. "Mind if I spoil you a little more?"

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Faina Parker:

"Well I wasn't going to wear a shitty diamond, was I?" She retorts with a grin, listening to his chuckle. Crazy, to be rehashing this conversation. For a long time she had thought jewelry in general was gaudy and pointless, something rich people used to flaunt their wealth, and an easy target for her to steal. But after lots of subtle hints and casual conversations she had admitted that yeah, being able to wear a ring as a sign of commitment would be cool... along with the idea of marriage, in general, being cool. But no diamonds. If she was going to wear something it was going to remind her of the one it belonged to. "And I can't help your eyes are green." The distraction is suitably sufficient, to earn her another kiss, at least. She chuckles at the thought of him somehow finding Sandra in the realms between and just casually mentioning Faina liked the ring she helped pick out. And she eyes the soap. The thought of him running his hands all over her body again sends a small shiver down her spine. That really would be spoiling. "Mmm... okay."

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Sam Skiles:

He'd grown up with the belief that diamonds were a woman's best friend. That's what his mage mom always said. Imagine his surprise to learn that wasn't the case with the women in his life. Except maybe Sandra. When Faina was dropping hints about wanting an emerald ring and that the idea of marriage was cool, he considered that maybe the color of the stone had something to do with his eyes, but... That sounded too sentimental.

"Oh my God. It's because your eyes are green and she wants the ring to remind her of you. Stupid." Sandra had told him when she heard him musing aloud one night. A small smile creepy across his lips at the memory.

His free hand slid up her side and across her left arm, lifting it. Leaning closer against her back, he runs the sponge over the top of her arm, across her hand and fingers slowly, then the underside. From there, he moves the sponge across her shoulders and collarbone, listing her right arm to scrub. It was... Possibly the most physically intimate thing they'd ever done. And it was strangely... Hypnotically erotic, feeling her skin as he spread soap across it, seeing how the suds clung to her and slid slightly when he lowered her arms. God's help him.

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Faina Parker:

Vulnerability is... not one of Faina's strong suits. Being perceived as weak - even if it's not really a weakness - is a huge risk and ordinarily she would never let her guard down enough to have to worry about it. Phobia aside this level of intimacy is... strange, and foreign. It's a display of how much she trusts Sam that she is not only allowing this to happen but is actually eager for it. Her eyes slide shut of their own accord at the feel of his fingers sliding across her skin. It's a different kind of tingling pleasure to the one from earlier; warmth trails after where he touches, from the water and his own skin, and then goosebumps follow after from the chill of the open air. Her skin flushes slightly under the scrubbing motions. Faina lets out a slow, steady breath, feeling any residual tension and soreness melt away under his hands and the scrubber. She has never gotten a massage in her life before, but she imagines it feels a lot like this. She feels like purring; the wolf stirs along the back of her skull again, waking from its slumber.

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Sam Skiles:

Calloused hands carry the scrubber up the length of her arm, over her fingers. He uses his other hand to hold hers up, changing direction of the scrubber to trail down the underside of her arm and across her chest, across the collarbone to repeat the motion for her other arm. Sam kisses the back of her head. His hand returns to her chest, running between her breasts to her stomach, scrubbing all over her torso and covering with her suds. He saves her humble mounds for last, a slight tremble of excitement rocking through him as he scrubs her back, her legs, her feet - slow and precise, so as to leave nothing untouched. Then it moves back to her chest, circling one breast at a time. He leaves her covered in suds then moves up to her neck, fingertips breezing over skin as he does so. The scrubber stops just at the edge of her jawline. "Is it okay if I scrub your face?" Sam asks huskily, lips pressed to her ear.

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Faina Parker:

Faina doesn't notice the steady creep of heat across her cheeks until the blush is firmly in place. It could be excused by just the warmth from the water... if not for the fact that her pulse has also begun to quicken in time to butterflies floating in her chest as he scrubs her from head to toe. He leaves nothing untouched in a slow and methodical progression that leaves her skin tingling. Not just from the pressure of the scrubber but the feel of his fingers. It's a... pleasant feeling, comfortable, and wholly alien to what anything has ever felt like before. Her breath hitches in her throat and a shiver races up her spine as that same, slow and steady pace passes over her breasts. Her chest arches up against his hand, a soft, nearly whispered whimper in the back of her throat as her head falls back to his shoulder. His lips pressed to her ear draws her out of the trance she had been lulled into, and Faina opens her eyes, unfocused, until the rolling purr of his voice registers. "Mhm..." She sighs.

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Sam Skiles:

With her permission, he presses a kiss to her head and tells her to close her eyes, scrubbing her neck and then bringing it over her jaw. He scrubs from her jaw to her chin, her cheeks, nose and eyes, then forehead and down again. Sam sets the scrubber aside and reaches for the nearby rag, wetting and folding it in his hand. And gently, he rings it out over her face, then uses the rag to wipe away the water and suds. He sets it on the side of the tub. Cupping water in his hands, the werewolf raises them and lets the water run over her arms and shoulders, washing the soap away. He brings water back and forth to rinse her off, giving special attention to her neck, her jaw, her torso and chest where he lets his hands settle. Sam nuzzles into her hair, kissing her shoulder.

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Faina Parker:

Her eyes close obediently with the kiss pressed to the side of her head. The scrubber across her face is a weird sensation, especially across her cheeks and her nose, which scrunches under the motions. She can't help some soft giggles as he moves, and she has to fight to keep her lips pressed together when she wants to grin. And she also has to resist the urge to shake herself in a very dog-like fashion as he rinses her face. The urge, at least, quickly fades when he uses the rag to wipe away the water and remaining soap. The warm bath water on her bare skin feels heavenly... another shiver, this time down her spine, and goosebumps follow for anything that is above the water line as the air cools the dampness on her skin. Her eyes slide open again as his hands stop moving, resting her head into his nuzzling. Her gaze is more alert this time as she examines his handiwork. The scrubber has done its job; the brownish red smears that had been all that remained of the claw and bite marks have gone. And between that and her innate Shifter healing, all physical traces of the earlier tryst is gone. Mmm. Sad. Faina brings her knees closer to her chest so her feet can find purchase along the bottom of the tub, so she can press back further into his chest, rubbing against him like a cat might rub for pets. "This tub is nicer than the actual hot springs, I think. But, maybe that's because you're in it too, hehe." Her smile is soft, content, but she nudges at him so she can try to steal his lips for another kiss.

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Sam Skiles:

He inhales her scent as he nuzzles into brown locks, letting it fill him from crown to toe-tip. She still smells like home... Like him, and faintly them, underneath the floral stench of the soap. It's a nice accent. Faina rests her head into his nuzzles, and he stills, closing his eyes - perfectly content. They open when she moves. His arms return to her waist, wrapping around her as she rubs against him. Sam nuzzles and kisses her cheek again, humming at her words. "There are springs here?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. "That sounds nice. I wish I could go to the springs with you..." It's his dream. They could, he supposed but... That seemed to be asking for too much. And she's here, soft and beautiful and full of love. He doesn't want to go anywhere else right now, except maybe to bed. To hold her against him and fall asleep with her in his arms, one last time. She nudges him and he turns his head slightly, lowering to meet her lips with his. He holds her there for a moment, then rests his forehead against hers. Slowly, he leans back a bit, keeping her atop him as he does so. Warm water graces his shoulders and he sighs. This was nice. He should wash off but, Faina is sitting on him and he doesn't want to move her. It's an honor that she's there.

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Faina Parker:

Arms wrap around her again and Faina settles back into Sam's embrace, closing one eye to the kiss on her cheek. His voice is so soft, hardly louder than a whisper, and her smile slips just a fraction as her heart squeezes. It sounds like he's fading again. "... Me too." She says, just as soft. "But... this is better. Promise." Her kiss is firm as his lips meet hers, a reassurance that he isn't about to vanish on her. He is still solid, and warm, a steady heartbeat where he has her back to his chest, and a scent that fills her nose with a reminder that he is here... but for how much longer? She closes her eyes, considering. Is there even something that can be done? Sam made her promise... Her fingers brush against her totem - she often fidgets with the chain when she is thinking - and she opens her eyes, lifting the crescent moon pendant on her palm. The blue center stone glistens from the water... almost a faint blue glow. She closes the totem in her fist, squeezing it to her chest. Then she reaches for Sam's hand with her free one. Faina shifts some to be partially facing him a little more, so the chain will reach, and presses the totem into his palm, closing his fingers around it before putting her hand on top of his. "You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself," She murmurs, reciting, "But while we both wish it, I give to you that which is mine to give. I shall be a shield to your back as you are for mine. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. And above and beyond this, I will cherish and honor you through this life... and into the next. Unto this marriage is my vow." While she speaks the stone in his palm flares hot, just for a flash; it could easily be mistaken as just reflecting body heat. Nothing about the totem has changed in any way, nor did Faina herself seem to notice.

Faina flashes Sam a grin. "'Bout as romantic a setting for vows as you can get, huh? Modified, a bit; I don't remember it straight through. "

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Sam Skiles:

The kiss is firm and loving, a reminder that the other is there. If she said this was better, he believes it. Anything was better with her. A comforting silence settles back between them for a moment. Sam presses his lips to her temple, squeezing her. His eyes slide closed. They flutter open when she reaches for his hand and shifts in place, facing him more. What is she...? Faina places the totem in his palm and closes his fingers around it, placing her hand over his. He looks at their joined hands for a moment, confused. His attention snaps back to her face as he listens. It's a wedding vow. A Celtic one. It's one he knows. His palm is hot for a moment and then it passes. Body heat? Sam lets it slide from his mind, searching her gaze . She'd just... But... She grins at him. His green eyes soften further, full of love and adoration, happiness. His heart swells, so full that can't imagine anything that can top it. Only she could do this to him. His Faina. His warrior Goddess. His love. And in this dream... His wife. He'd always wanted to call her that. Sam leans forward, cupping her cheek with his free hand and pulling her in for another kiss. Then he lets his hand drop to hers, taking one of her hands and placing it over his amulet. He didn't have his ring and she had used her totem. So he would use this; with her hand over his amulet, and his over her totem, he recites back. "You are blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give to you my body, that we Two might be One. I give you my spirit, til our life shall be done. I shall honor you above all else. This is my wedding vow to you." He watches her with avid interest, burning her features into his mind so that even awake, he could reflect on it when he needed strength. When it was his time to go.

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Faina Parker:

She... doesn't want to think about why she has enough of a wedding vow memorized to be able to recite it. It's not important. Just like how it doesn't matter at all that they're doing this in the tub of a fancy hotel in the farthest way from traditional possible... and if they want to be technical about it, Sam had only just proposed a little while ago. She doesn't know what else to do but bind this spirit to her with a vow that can cross whatever afterlife lay between them. Selfish, maybe; to stop him from slipping away back to wherever he came from. But she has never been good about letting go of what's hers. Even if it's only in dreams like this one... if he won't let her follow, she'll drag his soul to hers by the threads that now tie them together. Faina carves his expression, this moment, into her memory as his kiss seals the vow. This is the kiss she wants to remember as their last; not the fuzzy, shadowed one of the hideout. He then takes her free hand over his totem, and without letting go of hers, says his own vows back. The stone in her totem flares hot again. Husband and wife... there may not be an officiant or a certificate, but who needs all that shit anyway? Tied together mind, body, soul... With magic and beasts intertwined.

She curls her fingers around his totem, his amulet, and looks Sam in the eye. Deep ocean blue searches the emerald green, and she speaks as much to the beast as to him. "I won't ask you to make the same promise not to do anything stupid down there... God knows you wouldn't listen anyway." Her smile is as teasing as it is soft. "But if I have to let you go... It's only for now." The look in her eyes is all fiery determination. "Come back for me, Sam. I'll find you. Call for me, and no matter what stands in my way, I'll be able to reach you. Whatever hell you're in. My heart is bound to yours. So don't you think for a fucking second that you're alone, or that you can let me go. You can't now." She runs her thumb over the amulet's stone, a small, almost triumphant smirk on her lips. "Husband, mate, whatever you would call this... You're mine now. Come what may."

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Sam Skiles:

Green and blue lock together. He doesn't care if there's no certificate or someone to officiate. Their vows are the only thing that matter and now they were out in the air, binding husband and wife, monster and wolf, together. She won't ask him to make the same promise and for a moment, it seems as though she's giving him permission to go. But that's not it. "Come back for me, Sam. I'll find you." His heart squeezes. He does and doesn't want her to find him here in the Hotel. "Whatever hell you're in." It sounded like she knew. 'Down there', she'd said. Down beneath the Hotel, underground. His eternal cage. She wasn't giving him the okay to leave her behind or permission to let her go. He couldn't now. He never could, even before. She wanted him to call for her. So that she could find him. No matter how long it took for her to hear. Sam rests his forehead against hers, not looking away. "You are mine and I am yours. From this day to the end of my days, from this life into the next." He confirms, "You are both my mate... And my wife." Wife... After all this time. This really was the best dream. His hand moves from hers to cup her cheek again. "Okay, Faina... You win." The werebeast tells her, "I'll call for you. Every day. As loud as I can. And I won't stop. No matter what they do, I won't stop." He holds her against him for a time, then presses a kiss to her head, her cheek, her lips. Sam may not have listened to anyone else... He might listen now. No. He would listen to his wife. Even when it got really bad... He wouldn't try anything stupid again. He wouldn't leave her behind. He would give her til the end of his days to come and find him. And he knows that it will take everything he has to be strong enough to wait. To let himself hope. A spark had ignited. "C'mon..." He tells her. "Lets go to bed."

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Faina Parker:

She's not sure why she's having this dream... but she is so glad she did. She knows it's likely just some sort of fluke, some random dream born from the pain medication, but... she can't remember how long it's been since she felt this complete. A taste of what her life could've been, had things not fallen apart. "From this life into the next." She echoes. She could live off the love reflected in his eyes, the way it sounds when he calls her his wife. As natural as the love between the sun and moon. Faina lets go of his amulet to rest her hands on top of his. Relief floods her at the 'you win', and she nods, her smile trembling. Although it's only natural that she would. There is nothing, anywhere, that could stop her from going back for him. Not even Sam himself. He had tried. So had she. Was it wrong, to bind him to her? Maybe this was all a big mistake. But... she can't bring herself to care. She will get him back. Even if she has to meet him on the other side of the graveyard... she'll pull him right between the gates of hell and give a middle finger to Hades on the way out. His kisses fill her up from head to toe, and she tries her best to keep all of that feeling, the love, the warmth, the way his touch feels without the phobia, and imprint it into all her nerve endings and her bloodstream, so the sensation won't ever go away. There is a dread lurking underneath the haze still floating in her mind... of what will happen once they have to go back. A touch she'll crave so desperately... and won't be able to have. She nuzzles against him... and fails to resist stealing another kiss. "Okay, hubby," Faina can't help snickering at the pet name. She can't bear to call him that with any sort of seriousness. "Boyfriend to fiance to husband all in the course of one day, you sure got upgraded." She drapes her arms around his neck. "Carry me?" She's pretty sure she could walk, now, but isn't a bride supposed to be carried bridal style?

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Sam Skiles:

Hubby, she calls him. Butterflies flutter though his stomach. His heart flips in his chest. She snickers at it and he shivers slightly, a light flush settling across his cheeks. That was... Damn. Was it supposed to feel this good to be married to the love of your life? Was it... Okay, to be as happy as he was, when she called him husband? He wasn't asking for permission. "You got upgraded too, wife." He shoots back as she drapes her arms around his neck. Sam nuzzles against her, arms already finding purchase on her legs and bringing her closer. She asks him to carry her. "Of course." The werewolf scoops her up in his arms, bridal style, and rises to his feet. He doesn't bother to let the water drain from the tub, only leaves it. He carries her from the tub to the sink, setting her down before it and grabbing a towel. The blonde wipes her face, kissing her nose, and pats down her body, scrubbing her head as he towel dries her hair. After she's dry enough, he dries himself and picks her back up. Stealing a kiss, he carries her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where he lays her on the bed. He doesn't wait to walk around to the other side; the werebeast crawls over her and lays next to her, holding one of her hands and allowing his free arm to drape over her side. Close, but with enough space between them to look at her. "I love you, Faina." Sam squeezes her hand. He's tired, emotionally and physically, but he doesn't want to close his eyes yet. He knows that when he wakes, she won't be there and he's not yet ready to let her go. So he pulls her against him in an embrace, holding her tightly so that he might capture the dream and hold it for as long as he could.

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Faina Parker:

Oh shit, wait a second... she has to pause and take stock of the look on his face when she called him 'hubby'. She had only been teasing - they both knew how much she hated pet names - but is he... blushing? Her mouth hangs open for a second in a small 'o', before she smirks. Hmm. Okay. She may need to reconsider her stance. Especially since it's her turn to blush when he tosses 'wife' right back at her.

He again lifts her up like she weighs nothing at all, and she giggles, making herself comfortable in his arms like it's the most natural place to be while he steps out of the massive tub and carries her over to the sink. She lets him dry her without much complaint, except for wrinkling her nose when he kisses it - until he tries to make a valiant effort on her hair. "Hey!" She laughs in protest to being scrubbed. There is nothing much to be done about her thick curls... she spends the time while he dries himself running her fingers through them and attempt to tame them back down from the mess he'd just made, too distracted to watch him. They make it into the bedroom for the first time - the massive bed is much the same as the one in her own room, and she has eyes only for it as he sets her down... and then crawls over her, too impatient to walk around. Faina chuckles and stretches, pressing herself further into the luxurious mattress. Man, they would've killed for a bed like this when they were last together... the other difference, too, that Faina hasn't shoved him to the other side of the bed and told him to stay there. With no phobia, there's no need. She turns herself onto her side and steals the kiss back he stole a moment ago. "I love you too, Sam." She snuggles into his embrace, squeezing back. Her eyes want to slide close and stay closed. She hasn't had a good night's sleep in what's felt like and has probably been years, and the safety of his arms tempts and beckons. But she knows as well as he does that this feels a lot like a goodbye, for now. "Don't forget to call for me." She mumbles, clinging to him, so all she can sense and smell is him.

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Sam Skiles:

He knows by the look on her face that he's been busted and... Decides that that's fine. If only because it also seems to work for her, judging by the blush creeping across her face at the word 'wife'... He files that information away for later. Faina didn't shove him to his side of the bed and tell him to stay there. The phobia is still gone then. She steals back the kiss and he smiles at her. Soft and tired, but loving. Happy. It's almost like the life they could've had, if everything hadn't gone wrong. In a way, it's almost cruel. But needed. He'd been so close to giving up again and like an angel, she came to him - telling him to stay, to call for her. As long as it took. Even if it took years, even hundreds of years. Even if he had to call for her in spirit. "I won't." Sam promises, hugging her close and burying his face in her hair. "I promise I won't forget. So listen out for it, okay?" Faina clings to him, and him to her. He drinks in her scent. He's comfortable beside her. Safe and warm, like nothing can touch him. But he has to fight to stay awake. One of his hands slide up her back, stroking her hair, repeating the motion until he can't fight it anymore... And closes his eyes, letting sleep claim him.

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Faina Parker:

He promises not to forget, and it's all she can do - accept that he'll do it. Trust that he will. She hopes wherever it is he calls from, it's close by - Snow Haven seems like a place where it would have a portal to hell somewhere within it. Somewhere under the springs, maybe? It'd be convenient. Wouldn't even have to abandon her mission at the hotel. "I will. Promise." She wants to lift up her hand to make a pinky promise, even, but her limbs suddenly feel too heavy to move. She only burrows closer against him, his heartbeat by her ear, and tries to drink in as much as she can of this, of him, being in his arms, warm and sated and so in love, before the cruel reality comes to steal her again. Although, it seems strange to be so exhausted in a dream... but she doesn't question it. Between being so comfortable in his arms and him stroking her hair, she can't resist it - her eyes slide closed, and she falls into a deep sleep.

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Sam Skiles:

Like all good things, this too must come to an end. It carries through the halls, haunting and lilting, vibrating through the walls and the rooms - a lullaby meant for one. It would relaxing, a comfort that encourages sleep for everyone else, but for Sam... It invades his ears and pulls him from his dreamworld. The werewolf's eyes flutter open. He untangles himself from her and slides out of bed quietly. Sam reaches over her, finding her hand and pulls the ring from her finger, eyes half-open. He walks to the living room, where he redresses, and then leads the room to follow the sound of the flute. It calls him back to the lower levels, to a room in the barracks separated from the others by a thick stone wall. Reinare is standing by a large, barred cage, playing the silver flute. The cage is open. Sam walks past her and into the cage where he sits, then lays down on a cot within in. When she stops playing, he's back asleep.

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Reinare Seraphim:

The aether tucks the flute back into a strap at her side. She withdraws to a table, collecting a folded blanket, and enters the cage, shaking it out and draping it over him. Reinare kneels next to him, searching. Nothing looks out of place. "I hope you enjoyed your time out. You'll have to tell me about it tomorrow." She whispers, brushing the hair from his forehead. The werebeast doesn't budge. "Goodnight, champion." She rises and exits the cage, locking it behind her. The bars hum with magic, glowing faintly as she leaves the chamber, turns off the light and closes the door - plunging his world once more in darkness.