Black and Red

Sera

I dreamt of black lace and red velvet. Of a warm body gliding over mine. Everything about space and time was nothing but fragmented glimpses of a man I wasn’t sure I recognized, but his voice, full of smoke, want, and pure unadulterated longing, felt so out of place.

Shouts broke through my slumber and I sat straight up in bed, the memory of the dream fading into nothing as a huge commotion rattled the house all around me.

Gooseflesh rippled over my arms as I slowly crawled to the end of the bed and perched on my knees, the silk chemise and robe I was wearing bunched and wrinkled over the curves of my body as I strained to listen.

More shouting broke through the silence. What was going on? Were we under attack? Given that I was in serious danger just being in the presence of the Mano Della Morte, why was I so calm and assured that that same man would protect me from whatever was happening downstairs?

I went to the door and rattled the knob. Locked, of course. I banged on it, shou