She stood on his doorstep, hesitating to knock on his door. There was something in the air, or maybe just something inside her, that was sending little flashes to the base of her spine – not quite warning, or danger, but ... something wicked this way comes. She had been seeing Adrian for almost six months, and this was the first time she had been to his house. He always picked her up at her house for their dates, and the nights they spent cuddled on a couch watching movies were always there. She knew he was a very private man, very guarded about letting too much out of himself. The fact that he had invited her to come over, to finally let her see his private place, his almost castle out in the middle of nowhere, made her happier than she would have thought. She was falling in love with him, hard, and she thought he was, too ... but she wasn't quite sure. They had still not slept together, and although he had explained why – that sex was something he considered sacred, something that had to wait until the right time – she still couldn't help but wonder. There had been enough intense make-out sessions on her couch for her to know he was as hot for her as she was for him.
And still, the hesitation. She wasn't sure how long she had been standing in front of the door, hand raised to knock, when she felt a ... shift, and knew he was standing on the other side of the door. She could feel his heat, his presence, and knew whatever he had been keeping hidden from her would be brought out of the shadows tonight. The thought made her nerves light up, fear and desire burning their way to her core. She started to put her hand down – he knew as surely as she did that they were both only inches away from each other, and she was expecting him to open the door without her knocking – but then a small whisper slithered across the back of her mind, telling her she had to knock. She had to ask for entrance. She placed her hand palm down on the door for a moment before knocking lightly, the barest of taps. The door opened before she could even put her hand back to her side.
Something about the way he was looking at her, the way he looked, made her throw her fear away. She stepped in the door and pressed herself against him.
*
From the moment she stepped into his house she felt charged up, almost electrified by everything she saw, felt, or even tasted. Even the air had a charge to it, something that made her think of darkness and divinity. Her clothes felt uncomfortable on her skin; she had to fight the urge to just strip, to open her skin up to the air. She was grateful he suggested bypassing a big meal for the time, wine and cheese in front of the fire was almost more than she could handle. A dull roar started in her head, obliterating everything except the desire she felt rising, the need to be possessed by the man sitting next to her. She tried to keep her mind focused on normal, ordinary things, but the roar kept getting louder, until she finally looked at him, her eyes wide and full of heat.
"Oh, gods, Adrian, what is this? Did you spike the air?" She almost didn't recognize her own voice; whatever was turning her will to mush was filling her voice, making her already low voice a dark deep moan of need.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, using the other hand to brush her hair back from her face. She all but levitated at the feel of his hands, lifting and melting at the same time.
"I'm sorry, darling, I'm not meaning to overwhelm you. It's just that here, in my private ... haven, it's harder to keep my true nature hidden." She stared at him, eyes widening even more. Something was, well, going on with his hair, with the two curls right above his eyes. It looked like they were moving, or something was growing right under them. As she stared in wonder, she noticed his eyes changing as well, turning from deep brown to almost black, the outer edges of the iris turning into a band of gold. The need to rip her clothes off was growing stronger, making her moan, making her head swim even more. He leaned forward and kissed her, the barest brush of his lips across hers, then whispered in her ear.
"You have to ask, Sara."
Whatever it was, some vibe in the air, or even a hit of acid in the wine, she could feel it building. She couldn't take her eyes off his, and she wasn't surprised when she realized she was finding it hard to breathe. Her mind was whirling, trying to find the words to ask for the right thing. She kept getting distracted by his curls, by the sense of ... movement. She was beginning to wonder if he had really spiked the wine, when she heard the small whisper again, in the back of her head. Just two words this time, but it was the age-old invocation.
"Show me ..."
She wasn't sure later if she actually spoke, or if he just read her mind. She couldn't hear her own voice; the roar in her head was growing, getting out, rolling through the room like a storm. One second she was thinking the words, if not actually saying them, and the next she was in his arms, being carried through the house, so swiftly it felt like they were flying. She couldn't hold back a moan as she realized what was happening: as they flew through the house, her clothes were melting, brief little puffs of fire she could only see burning everything off her body, until she was naked in his arms, the same thing happening with him, until he was as naked as she.