Page 25 of Our Dark Winter Wish

He is mine. All fucking mine.

The ground beneath me swells and rises me up so my forehead can meet with his. He looks into my eyes with a ferociousintensity. I used to think it was threatening. That it was a sign of imminent violence.

Now, I see it as a desperate plea to be heard. To be accepted. To be loved.

‘I accept your shadows. Your darkness. And I will take responsibility for your sanity.’ I raise my brow. ‘If you accept responsibility for mine.’

‘It seems like an unfair exchange.’

‘You’re right. It is. You saw what an angry earth god was capable of, after all. Me, as a wrathful god, kinda made you look like a pussy cat. I’d say you have the shittier end of the stick if you ask me.’

His lips curl into a smile, as do mine. Our two souls are laid bare. Our inner fears are given to the other to protect and keep safe. Our monsters are guarded by each other.

‘I’ll accept. My wild little witch.’

‘Goddess.’

His smile widens.

‘Don’t push it. You will always be my poppet doll.’

My fingers curl around his. My doll rests in his grip. And when he feels my continued pressure, his eyes narrow.

‘Not today,’ he says, pulling the doll from my reach and slipping it beneath the ethereal robes covering his body. ‘I know you want me to crush you so you can get past the nightmares and flashbacks, but I’m not ready to.’

‘When will you be ready to?’ I ask.

He steps back and turns away.

‘Carry on with your exploration, Poppet. I’ll stay out of sight.’

A ridiculous sentiment, considering his sheer size and the darkness he embodies.

He stops suddenly when he feels the snowball I toss hit him in the back of the head.

He turns with intentional slowness to find me whistling and looking around with about as much nonchalance as if I were holding a written sign, confessing I was the one who threw it.

A snowball hits me in the shoulder far softer than I threw mine.

I stare at him, mouth open, before all hell breaks loose and we’re hurling snowballs at one another with a passion. His laughter, although a deep, low and demonic rumble, warms my heart and fills me with sheer joy.

I throw myself behind a tree to take cover, narrowly missing one to the face.

My fingers caress the bark, and the tree shudders, raining down chunks of snow from the branches above and dumping it all on his head.

‘That’s cheating!’

‘Natural advantage,’ I correct.

I peek out from the trunk. He's not there. Not a trace. I stand and step out, searching for him.

‘Dorian?’

Poppy darts out from my cloak and disappears into the bushes.

‘Where are you going?’

I see him too late as he swoops from the sky and ploughs into me.

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