"Come on, say it again. I am a perfect devil. Tell me how bad i am. It makes me feel so good."
His dear dark love, he loved her in silence, without hope, jealousy and fear.
He knew well enough she was not his, so was the little beating form inside h...
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There you go my loves. Something soft for once in this angst ass story. But it's... let's just read it ❤️ —————————
Y/n's head thumps loudly in her ears.
Stuck in this situation, held tightly in someone's hold, she thinks she might have lost her mind. Maybe that hit in the head she received from Akira today really pushed her towards the state her mind was dangling towards for quite sometime now.
Neck in the hold of long cold fingers, she can slowly feel the pain that went numb a while ago. The injuries on her neck and head sore to life and her ears starts to buzz, the voices above her head fading further into the background.
She blinks, trying to bring herself back to reality. But the more she tries, the more she feels herself falling down into the abyss. Her body is in excruciating pain, but somehow it is not as mind numbing as the mental torture she been put through for the past few months.
She sniffs, quiet and small in her place. Her eyes dot black and she shuts them close tightly. But that only brings her in a mind spinning position.
"It's him."
She hears a voice.. a voice she's missed so much she can die just so she can hear him speak again. Her mate.
It soothes like a gentle breeze on the back of her mind. And she just starts to loosen her muscles when she is ruthlessly brought back to reality again.
Her hands twitch in the bounded hold, gaze trailing down and over the gloves she's already seen somewhere tonight. She tense up, so far gone that she doesn't even weight the importance of her mate's words.
The fog in her brain lifts a bit.
Akira.
He was wearing gloves. Those hands that...
She starts to shake, blinking her eyes to keep her vision clear. But it hits her again, his were silk and brown in colour. She remembers them clearly cause she watched them trailed over her thighs, before he tightened his grip and she let out a whimper in fear. But he probably thought she is enjoying it.
But these ones are black. And very leathered.
The ones he was wearing.
It's like the fear of him comes from a completely different part of her brain, a part so fragile that she completely stops breathing.
It's him. He is holding her like a hostage right now. It's his hand that is on her neck. He can kill her so easily, oh, he can. One twist of his hand and she is gone for good.
She doesn't even have to look back.
She starts to move her hands, to push them out of his grasp, to get away from him. But it's the one squeeze of his palm on her neck and she is left whimpering in fear, stopping her moments before they get her killed.
