[Book #2 in the Nystrom series]
[18+TW: mature content, heavy topics, language]
I push the feeling away and ultimately concentrate my gaze on his upper body, which still bears the traces of my lipstick. "You did not remove them?" He smirks and close...
Alright hear me out, Im on a break from school atm (for like a week) so I will try to update faster for the week but no promises!
I don't say it enough so for everyone who came from Nystrom, thank you for staying by my side! I am a handfull so yall should get an award 🏆
Don't forget to vote, comment, follow and share! Spam the comments and I'll give yall a nice surprise in the next chapter, yeah? ;)
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- ROWAN'S POV -
"What the hell you mean you got attacked?!" Amaya is standing next to me while Alex yells out to the three of my friends who are sitting on the couch.
"I mean that we got attacked." The tension-releasing part between Amaya and I is left out as I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest.
"We heard you the first time," Ivy snaps back and I glare at her.
"Any ideas who they might be or why they were there?" I lift my shoulders in response to Nadia's question, and Amaya shakes her head.
"I think we need some time to search into this situation," Nadia mumbles, earning nods from everyone in the room.
My gaze returns to the black-haired girl who is standing next to me. She has a concentrated look that could drive anyone to their knees in a matter of seconds.
- AMAYA'S POV -
I tune out their voices and let my wrath consume me until I felt the desire to kill. I always find there my escape from a tough situation; taking a human life is what keeps me going.
When Ivy and the two friends seated next to her begin discussing various possibilities, I look away and cross my arms over my chest before leaving the room and heading into the kitchen, where I can avoid being reminded of what I did and what I am currently doing—lying.
"Aya," Once I hear him calling out to me, I turn around, but I find it impossible to look at him since my mind keeps playing back the scene from the dance studio.
I can still vaguely feel his hands moving up, up, and up on my back against the material of my shirt. I can still feel his hands on the back of my neck, in my hair, and against my scalp. I need to close my eyes and take a deep breath since he stole it all from me.
"Are you feeling alright?" He asks, then laughs at himself since he obviously realizes that I am not doing well.
"Yes, I am okay," I mutter and turn back around, leaning my hands against the kitchen counter and rolling my neck to release the stiffness.
"Lies, so many lies." Now that I can hear his voice more clearly, my mind has stopped functioning, and all I can think about is him. His actions, words, his wicked hands that make everything appear a little bit better.
