Skin molested skin. Touch scarred tissue.
Her voice—banging for a way out.
Lorelai squirmed, her stomach in knots, her head spinning, her eyes feeling an invisible motion.
"Run. Just run."
Words not her own, from lips nowhere to be found.
"Run. Run."
"Climb."
Tanner groped her body—hands like oil, fingers like needles, her hair like fire.
She felt sick, her throat filled with rot, her lips swelled with pus.
"Make it stop." She whispered.
But arms cold, hard and without care, snatched her waist, pulled her in, dared to put his lips against hers, dared to claim her. She tensed her body, hands ready to push, feet prepared to dig in, flee.
But…
She didn't know. She wished she knew. She wanted to know.
Her body froze—steel locked to her heart, her will crumbling.
"No," she said, too soft to matter.
But he leaned in. Hot breath. Stale teeth.
His lips hovered—
Knock knock.
"Princess?" said a Maid.
The sound split the world—like gunfire through fog.
Real. Sharp. Here.
She turned—snapped—toward the door, breath catching.
Salvation.
Her frosted limbs moved, yearned for that bronze handle.
"Coming," Lore said.
But then fingers tightened around her wrist.
"No, no, no—" she gasped—
And the window cracked open.
Her feet pressed metal, the vibrations jutting through her ankles, her eyes stuck to the edge of the window. The glass vanished from her fingertips—
One step. A shove. Air swallowed her.
The castle spires streaked past, reaching for clouds that spun like paint, her heart screaming as she plummeted.
She didn't feel the bike beneath her.
Just air.
Sky.
Nothing under her feet.
In a flash, like her namesake, Tanner turned the Gravium key, the engine and circuits faded to a hot violet, her darker dusk violet hair fluttering loose in the wind.
She held on behind him, her arms tightening around his waist. She flinched hard; the act of him being her only anchor was a nail to her mind. His thumping heart was a hammer to her ribs.
It was enough to get off then and there. But at some point, Tanner had pushed the bike off, dropping into the city, making her cling on.
Her legs wrapped around him—like a curse.
Her cheek against his shoulder.
He was heat. Safety.
And she hated him for it.
But as the thruster purred alive, she grasped on. Tight, firm, and against her howling voice.
One slip, and she would be a red smear on the mountains.
Why him?
Why now?
Why is the only thing between her and death the thing she wanted furthest from her skin?
Then a shadow passed over them.
A ripple in the wind—Her tail shivering, her hair brittling.
Something above—burning, crystalline and edging closer.
Lorelai looked up.
A glint of slate brushed titanium, chips of bullet scars lining helmets, Volitite assault rifles at their hip.
Demon Knights.
"They're after me," Tanner called over the wind, his voice smug, like this was a joke.
"They're after me," she echoed, incredulous. "You kidnapped a princess on a stolen hovercycle, and you're worried they're after you?"
She eyed one, her tail tightening at their formation.
Crimson & Charcoal colors, just like her own kingdom.
Yet it was also off, like an offset hue.
Not her father's brand.
And not hers.
Maybe noticing her frown, Tanner sighed.
"I was joking," he said, "you're not that gullible, right?"
No, something was off about them. Why would an outside force patrol her kingdom?
It made no sense, it was crazy, delusional to think they had been invaded.
Then she caught a flash of their sigils—a serpent, curled in passionate red, and dipped in a toxic black.
They weren't wrath knights; they were from the kingdom of lust.
"Go now!" She snapped.
Tanner shrugged, smirking—until a bolt of crystal fire streaked past his ear.
"Ah fuck, what did you do?"
"Shut up." She screamed, "floor it!"
She watched, horrified, as he butchered the gear shift—like a child trying to ride a dog. Her mouth opened to yell—to howl at him—but no words came. Just heat. Just fire. Just the memory of melting arms.
She wouldn't trust this man with her life, no, hell, she would die like that.
"Get off." She muttered.
"What?"
She kicked him in the thigh, shoved him sideways, and he yelped as she grabbed the handlebars.
"Switch," she barked.
"Mid-air?!"
She put her fingers dangerously close to his eye sockets and pulled. Her leg scraped the pedals as she took the helm and put him in his place.
"Shut up, stay quiet and hands off." She said.
Tanner's fingers stopped at her waist, her tail one twist from snapping his leg.
"What are you planning?" He shouted, the roar of engines flooding his voice.
Warning crystals flared red—coolant water boiling, Gravium stabilisers flickering.
"You're gonna break it!" Tanner screamed.
She didn't answer.
She dove.
And as the city screamed past beneath her, all Lorelai could think was:
Her father.
What happened to her father?
Behind her, the dark bikes howled—overclocked, hungry. She accelerated.
Faster. Faster. She needed to outmanoeuvre them—to tilt the odds back in her favour.
The bike skidded sideways—pistons flaring, thrusters choking on air—
Like someone had thrown the world sideways, her view twisted, the bike groaning as they flew vertically.
Next, they clipped a tower's edge, sparks raining down, her dress scorching in soot and baked metal.
Tanner grabbed her waist.
"Lorelai!"
She flinched, and elbowed the cunt.
"Don't fucking touch me!" she growled.
She glanced back at the knights looming over her shadow.
She had to try it; she was supposed to be an archdemon, a kingdom's princess. Her father can forgive her if she had studied in secret.
She pressed the bike's core, the beating heart of metal and gemstone. The heat and roar bellowed like a clock outpacing her pulse. The song of Voltite rods hammering a Gravium Engine block, locked in a steel subframe.
She could picture it, feel it, hear its voice.
And then she tried.
"Scream," she said, "ROAR!"
She pushed, willed her core, connected mind and machine.
"Surge!" she howled.
But nothing, only the silence of her breath, the drop of her sweat.
"No, no, no." She said, "Work, you're supposed to work."
"Lorelai, they're getting closer, do something."
Tanner shook her, the bubble of doubt oozing down her throat. She clenched her chest, her lungs weeping, her nails begging.
"Please, just this once." She whimpered.
Like purple fire, the exhaust flickered once, twice, it coughed and coughed, the engine stuttering, dying, crying under her command.
"What have you done?" Tanner spat. "You got us killed. It's your fault. It's always your fault."
She felt her fangs tighten.
She could kill him.
Here. Now—
It's the last thing she'd do.
She twisted.
And then, like a wrath under her, the engine burned. The frame vibrated like thunder, her fangs snarling to the wind.
"Are you crazy!" Tanner yelled.
She remained still for a moment, the dark bikes starting to surround them, circling like vultures. Animals preparing to feast.
"Lorelai?" Tanner said, more concern in his voice now.
She remained still, her tail stiff, as she tested the throttle cable, the bike's overclocking prowl under her touch.
The sky waited.
The knights crept closer.
And Tanner breathed.
"I should leave you," she said.
"What!"
And then she cut off the engine.