Somewhere along the line, the lust had withered away to wild confusion. It was like trying to run in water. He simply couldn't. Before he could move forwards, another memory hit him and sucked him under.
This time, it was (better) worse. Tight heat clenching around him. It was so like the reality he had just been experiencing. And then pain. Just like reality. But this was reality. The reality where his wrists were painfully bound, seared by the silver that held them in place. His throat felt raw. He was desperate. He was a vampire and she was his sister. The woman riding him with such wide, vacant eyes was his sister. He didn't want this. Couldn't want this. All he'd wanted was a happy future for her. He'd had it all planned out for her. It was heinous. It was not right. And then hot blood bathed him. Life blood. He thought his heart had stopped. Surely it couldn't continue to beat when hers was so cold and still. The weight of a dead body over his naked one now.
Wolfram struggled, tore himself away from that memory. He couldn't remember what he had been doing or if he had even moved since they'd started, but he found himself with his back pressed against the side of the chaise, breathing shallow and lips numb. Reality didn't feel like reality anymore. It was just as vivid as the memories. He couldn't stop himself from grabbing Tao's wrists as the vampire raised his hands to his eyes. Eyes. "No!" He knew what would come next. He didn't want to see the fingers sink into the eye sockets. He hadn't come here to take any eyes! It was a wild thought that brought another memory rushing to the surface like the gorge rising in the back of his throat.
No.
That memory was deflected viciously, but then another slipped through. Disembodiment. Feeling as if he were dying for the second time in his life. He hadn't been aware that he had been wide open like that. That was before he met Jenna. There was no Badh in the murder then. Someone from the other side thought that they'd step in, and what better opportunity was there than possessing the body of a werecrow too young in his power to truly comprehend it? It was the emptiness that was the worse. The feeling of not existing, the struggle of identity when there was no way to prove an identity. He had no body. No senses, no sensations, no consciousness. He didn't know which fate was worse––being suspended in that state forever or winking out completely.