Caged Bird Act 1

Dove tinkled the tiny golden bell that hangs from the overgrown bridge and watches the ground in front of her sink down, beckoning her down into the beauty of Mookaite Park. Plum trees welcomed her, and cherry blossoms guarded the white brick walls like soldiers. Pink, purple and black cottages weaved their way up the cobbled road, beckoning in visitors. Crystallised blocks towered over them, sparkling gently, large windows carved into their faces. Candles and lanterns hung mid-air, illuminating the gorgeous pocket that only belonged to magic folk. The park spread out like a portrait come alive. The moon was near full, and shone on the windowpanes of Chevey Inn, which were covered in daisies and daffodils, a pretty reminder of blooming spring. The little old lady that answered the door was more than welcoming, a purple crystal hat sat atop her bushy head. She gave Dove a large, rusty key for her room, whilst pushing a steamy hot of cocoa into her hands with a smile. Mrs Chevey, the owner, led her to the room at the end of the corridor, and bid her goodnight. She smelled like cinnamon and coffee. She was sweet. Dove was still rather shaken from the events of the night, so she collapsed into bed, and found Mrs Chevey’s affections more than comforting. She threw off her jacket and the ripped tights, tossing them on the floor. Her stomach was still a ball of knots from the breath of that man, his whisper in her ear, his body holding her against the tree, the look in his eye. She still couldn't exactly figure out what it was. Her bed also smelled of lavender, and she fell asleep with most of her clothes still on, the curtains open too, which allowed the waxing crescent moonlight from the sky to flood in, and the twinkling of crystals sang her to sleep.

*

Creak.

Creak.

Creak.

Dove woke a few hours later, her eyes were foggy and out of focus.

There was a man standing in front of her bed.

There was someone in her room.

A shadow. A monster?

The window was wide open, and she was laying right in front of him, without any covers. Eyes blurry from sleep, and confusion from the lavender on her sheets, Dove’s brain wasn’t snapping on.

This is a dream.

It’s just a nightmare.

There’s no one there.

But the man stayed there, even when her dry eyes came into focus. Dove clenched her fists, scrambling back, trying to see who he was. What he was. She wasn’t terrified for some reason, she was curious, intrigued almost. Was she mental?

Hours ago, she was attacking grown men pumped full of adrenaline. What was happening here? Nothing about the shadow of a man felt real, yet it felt like the realest pair of eyes she had ever seen. Dark red. Two red buttons, the colour of blood. He was very tall, and his thick, dark hair ran down his shoulders. It fell over his face, but she could see his animal-like eyes from the dull light of the room. His skin was dark-hued, like honey met rich brunette, and Dove swore she could see little lines of gold scatter his skin, peppered along his wide chest and throat. His face was bearded, curling into tiny plaits reaching the centre of his throat.

He felt familiar. Has she seen him before? Why was he here? What was he here for? He must have come through the window. Did he somehow know she was here? Maybe she was followed. He must know Gavin. Her mind was racing but her body felt underwater. As though moving wasn’t an option.

Circe’s swine. He’s about to kill me.

Dove’s body could not match her racing heart. Panic had never gripped her like this. His eyes flicked all over her body and his head leaned back, a smirk on his dark face. Not in a menacing way. Like he’d finally found something. As though he knew her. The silence wore on, buzzing thickly in the closeted bedroom. He wore a ripped, furry coat which exposed his chest. He cocked his head. Dove was reminded of the movements an animal makes. Watching. Silent as the trees. The moonlight behind him danced like magic. He silently watched Dove; she could almost see herself through his pupils. Her heartbeat was drumming away so loudly she thought her ribs would crack. He stepped closer, sighing. He leaned down to her, and his hair tickled her face. This suddenly didn’t feel much like a dream, but this man certainly did not feel real anymore. His large hands restrained her wrists, the sudden touch jolted her like lightning. He was on top of her, a small grin appearing on his shadowed face. Heat crept up inside her slowly. He was so close. His hands were warm. She was going to die by them.

Murdered night one of being on your own, uh?

“Don’t...” she managed to choke out. “Who, uh?”

Why does my voice sound like that? So far away.

She couldn’t get her mouth to work. Her eyes were on his hair, a golden earring winked at her, a pale scar was visible on the man’s cheek. She could reach out and touch it. A chuckle tickled Dove's ears delightfully (she couldn’t help it). Her heart was speeding up with every second. She was sure he could hear the panic in her voice, the way she breathed, the flash in her eyes.

“Don’t what?”

His voice was low, and right in her ear. His finger brushed under her chin, making her look up at him. Her breath hitched and she swallowed loudly.

“Who are you?”

Dove’s voice was urgent, her mind was grasping at anything but reality. He couldn’t know her, so what could he possibly want? Dove saw him smile softly in the dim light the crescent moon was flowing through the room. Only the shadows and the moon. She felt his breath on her neck like the heat of a dragon’s tongue, her hot breath swirled in his ear. Every moment seemed to drag by every sense heightened.

“You don’t know who I am? How... disappointing...” He trailed off, but Dove willed him to speak again. His voice was like velvet. She was an anxious pile of nerves but couldn’t just lie here. She had to talk to him, maybe distract him. Her magic was bubbling inside. Could that be enough? Or would it just seal her fate?

“I suppose that means you know who I am?” Dove’s voice was still a mere whisper, but her eyes were fixed on his. Circe, she could be murdered by those eyes. Destroyed. He chuckled again.

“You’re different. I know what you are, as well as who,” whispered the man, sending prickles down her body.

Circe, why did his voice have to sound like that? Like pure fucking gold.

“Levany,” he spoke softly again, and Dove’s stomach plummeted. “White dove,” he whispered. She could see his smile. Her nerves iced over.

How? How? Was he a stalker? Killer? Why did he know her name?

“You didn’t.” She had to speak slowly; her breathing was raggedy. She felt like her lungs had been carved up. “Didn’t answer...my question,” she panted. She felt pathetic. He could probably smell the fear coming off her.

“You’ll know me soon. When the gold seeps into your blood. Then I’ll tell you who I am.”

She almost laughed. His words were swarming her mind and none of them made sense. She felt strange. Surely this was a nightmare. However, Dove just couldn’t help but crave the warmth of his hands on the rest of her body. It felt like shooting stars. Forest fires. Spreading, unstoppable and dangerous. He felt unstoppable. But Dove could feel her magic like a huge red snake in her fingertips, ready to bite. Not completely unstoppable. Not as much as she is. She felt his mouth linger on her throat, then he slowly lifted his head, tracing her lips with a long finger. One wrong move and he may turn violent. How long was he going to keep her like this? She lay there and panted, unable to move. She felt wrong. She felt all over the place. Who was this man? Why was he here? What did he have to do with Dove Levany? He had no reason to hurt her. Certainly, no reason to appear in her room in the middle of the night. Dove felt light-headed in the presence of him, she could smell him so strongly that it almost made her hungry. He seemed telekinetic to her hunger, as he lowered his head down once again, letting go of her arm and pressing against Dove’s body. Her heart jumped, all thoughts suddenly melting. What was that smell? Dove could have drowned within it. Drowned in the heat that seemed to radiate between them. The sweetest earthy aroma overwhelmed her, starving her, making her mouth water. This shadow of a man, this beast from the corner of the room, what was he? Was he even real? She felt his mouth on her wrist, biting her very softly. Why wasn’t she angry? He was almost teasing her. This impossible, unreal man was toying with her.

She huffed, squirming. The man’s dark eyes watched her reaction, his mouth curling. He licked his teeth and brought his face inches from hers.

She let out her breath, and her body writhed against him, rubbing him. He was so large, she felt like she could be completely enveloped by him. Cocooned, like a willow. His hair felt like velvet, and as she panted, she breathed in the oaken smell of it. There was something old, dark and sweet about him. Something unknown. Something hungry, quiet, and hidden. A monster in the dark. He pressed between her legs, one shifted upwards; her thigh exposed. Her heart was exploding. Dove couldn't help but feel a terrible shiver of pleasure. Like she needed this man to continue breathing down her ear, for his mouth to touch her skin once more. Her body jolted slightly, thighs squeezing him. He made a soft sound of surprise, Dove almost thought she’d imagined it. But it was there. It lingered like an afterthought.

“Don’t you want to know why I’m going to curse you?” he whispered.

The words shivered through Dove, like a streak of gold. She met his eyes. Then stopped moving completely. His voice was deep and gruff. The words licked her brain. The softness made her thighs tighten. Why was she aching like that? She wrinkled her nose, a twitch almost, and continued to look up at him, silently willing him not to put some kind of soul-taking jinx on her bloodline. There was something else in her eyes. She wanted to see the red in his once more.