Poetry Train # 79

Murmuring pulls me from my sleep as icy fingers dance down my spine and I lay in my bed. It isn’t your voice that speaks to me. It isn’t your touch that freezes me. Where are you? I can’t remember. You were here when I went to bed. Your arms held me tight as I drifted to sleep, but you’re not here now.

“My soul.”

His voice talks to me, but how can that be? He’s never been able to enter the house, not even when you are not here. Cold fingers pinch my nipple, drawing a gasp from me. I open my eyes to see him sitting on the bed next to me. His dark storm eyes traces the line of my body hidden beneath the blankets.

“You are awake. I was beginning to wonder how you could ignore me.”

I moan as he tugs on both my nipples. There has never been any doubt that if he touched me, I would surrender as I had in the centuries before you caught me.

“Where is…?” I can’t say your name, but I don’t know if it is a spell you have cast on me or if he is blocking me.

“He is gone, love, and the time has come for me to take you home. This is a pretty prison, but you are not meant for such luxuries.”
He buries his hand in my hair and yanks my head back, exposing my neck to his teeth. I shiver as he scrapes his teeth over my skin before sucking a mark up. I want to wrap my arms around his shoulder and offer myself to him, but I am chained to the bed with words. I can only touch you and give my body to you.

“It is this house,” he comments as he stands, holding me in his arms. “You are meant to ride the storms with me, not sit and waste away like this.”

He strolls to the open balcony doors and I see the dark clouds billowing in the distance. You are gone and a storm builds which is how he can enter in to steal me away.

“He loves me,” I whisper, laying my head against his chest.

“I know he loves you. Who wouldn’t if they got a chance to have you? His love will bind you and chain you to this world. Creatures like you and I are not meant to live like the humans who covet us. The moors and the wilds are our home. The storms and winds are our power.” He nuzzles the curls on the top of my head. “Are you ready to return home, my soul?”

I hear my name being called and I glance down to see you standing below the balcony. I hear the pleading and the commands in your voice, yet the wind rushing by my ears destroy what magic might be in them. I remember the softness of your touch and how gentle you are when we make love. I remember how you cry each time you must leave me. I remember the anger in your eyes when I tell you I can’t give you power over the storms that rage around us. I remember the feel of your whip against my skin while I try to explain why my magic would never work for you.

He sets me on my feet and steps away. Folding his arms over his chest, he frowns at me. “You must choose between us. He loves you, but wants the power he thinks you can give him. I want only you to ride the winds with and to run free through the moors on moonlit nights.”

As the winds whip around me and rain lashes my face, I feel power surge through me. I’m confused by the fierceness of the storm and it beats me to my knees. Raising my hands, I allow the water to wash over me and cleanse me of my questions. I stand and walk to him, holding out my hand to him.

“Ride the storm with me.”