The sheets were stained. Not from the wrestle of slick bodies in throes of heat, but imprints of a nightmare’s cold sweat. His.
Arnav Singh Raizada stood on the threshold of a thousand thoughts as he starred out at London’s soaked streets. A thousand agitated creatures screaming in perpetual disagreement inside his mind’s courtroom. Dismissal did not quiet them; attention turned them into surging bolts of electricity burning at the ruptured threads of sanity.
The end of the cigarette burned red as he inhaled, briefly separating his face from the dark. The calm arrangement of masculine features belied the sickly panic that had thrust him from dreamless sleep to the disturbed echo of crippling loss.
He’d tore from bed to balcony, body locking as he became an unwilling witness to a city etched in mourning. Against tempered glass, the skies roared in misery, her snarls of wrath released on raging gusts of wind. In between the furious howls he heard it. No louder than a lover’s soft whisper. Stay.
A/N: This is not a love story, but it is their love story. I promise not the gentle chords of happily ever after, but the violent heart song of what happens when souls mate.