Color Me Crimson | 𝘙𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘝𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦

1͓6͢

Mind adrift in a lazy haze of pseudo-sleep, the click of a door lock and the abrupt creak of hinges pulls me back to full consciousness.

Lucien.

I freeze, convinced he's found me and there's no escape.

A shiver runs down my spine as the pulse in my neck begins to throb. My lungs beg for air, but I can't breathe. Listening. Waiting.

Anxiety floods my veins and when the intruder speaks, I jump.

"It's me," the voice calls.

Levi's steps sound from down the hallway.

My breath rushes out in a whoosh, though it takes a while for me to shake off the nerves. A light flickers on and Levi enters the room, giving me a cautious look with vibrant, crimson eyes.

Those eyes.

They're so much brighter than when he left, which means...

Which means, if he didn't have a special "wine" stash like Lucien, he must have...

I don't want to think about it.

I turn my gaze away into my lap and feel him approach. His dim shadow crawls up the foot of the bed and something is placed beside my waist.

"Brought these. They may not be your favorite; I grabbed the first ones I saw." His voice is calm, offering security within simple words. So unlike Lucien, who kept me on edge at every turn.

I lift my eyes and see a small pile of clothing. My clothing. The first band t-shirt I ever bought, the one I slip into almost every day when I reach for something comfy, and my favorite pair of worn jeans. A few more clothes from the top my my drawer and the ankle socks that don't have holes in the toes.

Forcing myself to look up, I offer a small smile. Avoiding his eyes, I focus instead on the rest of his face—precise eyebrows, soft but defined cheekbones, a plump bottom lip colored pale pink. "Thanks."

Abnormal crinkles near the collar of his jacket catch my attention. I scan his shoulders, seeing the stitching torn in various spots. My brows pull together. Even after saving me last night, when I assumed he broke in through my window no less, there had been no trace of his activities. No bruising, no blood, and no wear on his jacket.

"What happened?" I ask.

He looks down, following my line of sight to his ruffled collar, and picks at a loose thread from the ripped seam. "Nothing."

I notice dried blood under his fingernails. "Lying is a horrible way to get me to trust you."

In all honesty I've known he's been lying about—or at least omitting—quite a few details. As much as I hate to admit it, there's no way he made it to my apartment and back within a little over an hour using any common travel method. And for hell's sake, can these people stop assuming I won't question the whole red iris thing? For better or for worse, I'm up against someone who isn't human. That's the only explanation for why a simple call to the police wasn't a viable solution from the start.

"I know, for whatever reason, you've decided it's best to hide what's really going on, but—"

"I ran into Marc," he offers, cutting me off.

I swallow, feeling my blood run cold. I can tell he doesn't want to explain further, but if I'm kept in complete darkness I'm going to lose my shit. "...and?"

"He won't be a problem anymore."

I pull the inside of my cheek between my teeth, then realize he's not going to say any more unless I ask. "What do you mean? Are you implying...­"