"I'm right here, darling. Always with you." A soft whisper brushed against Laras' right ear.
A warm breath caressed her left cheek, like an invisible kiss full of tenderness. The sweet, intoxicating scent of must wafted through the air again, wrapping around her body like a silk blanket.
The creature's magic had slowly seeped into her mind, blurring the line between dream and reality. She no longer felt the urge to search for it, knowing that the figure with the kasturi scent was right beside her. Unexpectedly, Laras found comfort in its presence.
A faint smile curved her lips as her eyes half-closed. "Whoever you are. This feels amazing," she whispered so softly it was barely audible.
Instantly, the scent of must grew thicker, as though the whole room was steeped in the fragrance. Laras felt invisible hands glide gently down her waist, then squeeze lightly—exactly the way the "Raka" from the night before had done.
On the other side of the bed, the real Raka suddenly jolted awake and sat upright. He frowned. "What's that smell? Must?" he asked, scanning the room warily. The dim nightlight cast his shadow larger than life against the wall.
Laras sat up too, feigning surprise. "Yes, it's must, honey. Where could it be coming from? It just appeared out of nowhere."
Raka pulled her close with one arm while reaching for his phone on the bedside table with the other. "Recite Bismillah, darling. Let's hope nothing's wrong."
"In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful," Laras murmured quietly, yet deep down something felt strange. The words tasted foreign on her tongue, as though some unseen force was holding her back from speaking them fully.
Suddenly, the room temperature plummeted. Their breaths formed thin white puffs in the air. The kasturi scent grew stronger, now mixed with the faint, earthy stench of damp soil and metallic tang.
Raka furrowed his brows. "This isn't a normal smell. It's too overpowering. Do you feel the cold too?"
Laras nodded, though her own body felt strangely warm. Those invisible hands now grew bolder, slipping under her sweater and touching her skin with slow, teasing strokes. She bit her lower lip hard to stifle a moan.
"Honey, hold me tighter," she asked, intentionally making her voice sound weak and fragile.
Raka pulled her into a tight embrace. "Let's just go back to sleep. Tomorrow morning we'll visit the village cleric. I've been feeling uneasy about the atmosphere in this house lately."
No sooner had Raka switched off the lamp than the whispering returned—this time clearer, deeper, and right against Laras' ear.
"He can't protect you, darling. I was the one who gave you pleasure last night. Not him."
Laras gasped softly. Her heart raced fast, but not out of fear—out of a sudden, rising desire. The invisible hands moved even more boldly now, gliding along the inside of her thighs with skilled, tantalizing touches.
"Don't!" Laras breathed out, barely audible.
"Why not? Last night you begged me not to stop," the voice replied in a soft, mocking tone. "Your body remembers me, Laras. Even now you're wet just hearing my voice."
Beside her, Raka mumbled in his sleep. "Darling, are you okay? You're burning up."
Laras didn't answer. Her eyes fluttered open. Right in front of her, the figure stood there, smiling in triumph.
Slowly it drew closer, its form becoming clearer—hazy, like thin mist shaped into a human figure: an extraordinarily handsome man of Middle Eastern features.
His skin was tanned golden with a faint greyish shimmer; long black hair cascaded down to his shoulders; and deep black eyes blazed with red light at their pupils.
He had a sharp nose, a defined jawline, and full dark lips curved in a wicked grin brimming with lust and victory. At his temples, small horns curved backward, almost hidden beneath his hair.
Tall and perfectly muscled, his figure remained translucent, like a living shadow. He leaned in until Laras could feel his cold breath against her lips.
"I'm far stronger than him," the jin whispered directly against her mouth, so close she could feel the icy air leaving his lips. "Tonight I'll take back what is mine. You belonged to me the moment you moaned my name last night."
Suddenly Raka woke up fully. He sat up straight and turned on the bedroom light. "Darling! Are you crying? Why is your face so flushed?"
Laras wiped her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks, yet her lips held an odd smile—one Raka had never seen before.
"It's nothing, honey," she replied in a voice unnaturally soft and sweet. "I just had a bad dream."
Raka wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Let's move to the living room tonight. I have a bad feeling about this."
As Raka stood up from the bed to fetch an extra blanket, Laras felt a strong tug on her wrist. The jinn was holding her hand against the mattress, stopping her from getting up.
"Don't go," the voice hissed again, now laced with threat. "If you follow him, I'll show him exactly what we did last night—right before his eyes."
Laras swallowed hard. Her body trembled, caught between terror and the forbidden pleasure that kept creeping through her veins.
Outside the window, the night wind howled louder. The shutters creaked softly, as if something was trying to force its way inside. Through the slightly ajar bedroom door, long shadows were seen moving along the dark hallway.
Raka returned to the bed with the blanket. "Come on, darling. Let's sleep on the sofa."
Laras gave a faint smile, her eyes glinting strangely under the lamp's glow.
"Okay, honey. But hold me really tight, alright? I'm scared someone might take me away tonight."
In the darkest corner of the room, a pair of red eyes blazed even brighter, overflowing with unrestrained rage and lust.
Those crimson eyes locked onto Laras with absolute possessiveness. His dark lips moved, whispering in a low voice.
"Tonight, there is nowhere you can run from me!"
Raka wrapped Laras snugly in the thick blanket, then lifted her gently and carried her toward the living room. The house, which usually felt warm and cozy, now felt cold and alien. Every footstep echoed too loudly against the floorboards.
"Honey, go slow," Laras whispered, her voice weak. Yet inside, she kept feeling invisible pulls on her waist, as if something was refusing to let her leave the bedroom.
Raka laid her carefully on the long sofa in the living room. He switched on a small standing lamp in the corner. The dim yellow light, which normally brought comfort, tonight only made the shadows on the walls look more alive and menacing.
"We'll sleep here tonight," Raka said, lying down beside her and holding her tight from behind. "First thing tomorrow morning, we'll go to the cleric."
Laras nodded, but her eyes kept darting toward the dark hallway leading back to their room. The scent of kasturi still lingered faintly, growing stronger each time Raka closed his eyes.
Minutes passed in silence. Raka's breathing steadied, already fast asleep from exhaustion. Laras tried to close her eyes, yet sleep refused to come.
Suddenly, a gust of freezing wind brushed her face. The standing lamp flickered twice before steadying again. Right in front of the sofa, a thin mist began rising from the floor, slowly shaping itself into a hazy figure.