Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sophia.
"You're acting so fucken suspicious. Worse than Ash trying to hide that he's not smoking weed, again."
"Oh, you know about that?" Maddox asked, causing Mateo to roll his eyes, "Thank fuck. My heart's been hurting keeping that—-
Mateo's hazel eyes widened. "You fucken knew?" he snapped, cutting him off.
Maddox pressed his pouty lips together. "Well... he's not trying that hard to hide it, is he?" he responded lazily, then waved his hand, "Beside, this is about me, and if I'm acting suspicious, or if you are doing what you always do and overthinking it. If I was really hiding something would you know, Mateo?"
"I'm definitely not overthinking this. Even Kirsan mentioned that you're odd lately."
"Unfortunately for you..." Maddox chuckled, causing me to fully lift my head from my computer at the sound of his deeply coaxing voice, "I don't really have the energy or fucks to convince you otherwise today. So, I'm leaving you to guess."
Mateo narrowed his annoyed gaze at his best friend, who was strolling beside him towards my desk looking his absolute golden devilish self today. "What kind of fucked up game you playing at Madds?" Mateo pushed, "I don't understand why you're even here today."
Sitting back in my chair, I grabbed my coffee mug and took a long sip. Seriously, just the sight of Maddox and I feel like I'm dehydrated. The man was stunning, and since yesterday, he has found a way to haunt my mind even when he's not around. That's a lie, it's not since yesterday. It's been for a while now.
Today, he was wearing his usual grin, the foxy kind and it seemed to reach deep into the paleness of his eyes. Black slim jeans hugging his muscular thighs and a black long sleeve tucked into those same jeans. He looked towards Mateo, pouty lips perfectly formed and shrugged, the gray overcoat lifting an inch. The closer he got, the more the distance became clear and finally with the last inch of space shrinking between us I could hear the click of his pointy Louboutin's against the ground, shiny and slick.
I forced myself not to squirm in my seat, but the lava pooling in my veins anyways. I can still feel the lingering effect of where his palm held my neck. I can still almost taste his lips, and feel the passionate way he was kissing me, as if he was trying to hold onto something he's been missing for so long. Today even those ghostly eyes of his were finally lit with fire that I had never seen in them. I loved every second of it because I know that it's me who has lit him. It's me who has put the spark into the ashes again. I enjoy it, the power it gives me because it fills a darkness in me. It gives me a high I probably shouldn't indulge in.
