"DON'T GET CAUGHT. DON'T GET CAUGHT. DON'T. FUCKING. GET. CAUGHT."
She chanted these words repeatedly, displaying reasons and visualising the aftermath of getting caught.
You'll be bonded. Restrained. Confined. With no freedom over yourself. Prayin...
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A loud bang resonated in the silent room. Heavy breaths followed. The vile scent of blood evaded my senses making me choke on my breath. For a moment, everything stood still as if the whole world was on a lifeless pause, but then I felt the world move again as my face got pressed against a wet chest.
My eyes turned wide. Blood. It was blood.
Pushing myself away far from his hold I gasped. Blood trickled down his forehead. His unalike eyes were hooded as if still wanting blood and death while his lips, his lips were curled into a roguish smirk, so beautiful that I felt my heart crumble and shatter.
If death had a form, I'm sure this would be it.
He looked deadly. Dangerous. Beautiful.
One of the rarest combination found in the living.
The First in Command was drenched in blood, which I'm sure was not his own. There was blood everywhere his hands, his clothes, the side of his face. His sleek raven hair was a mess, yet it looked beyond perfect.
He looked beyond perfect.
The imperial black cape sat on his wide shoulders proudly- as if making the world aware of its owner. He owned the world. Taking in his form my eyes were wide. Bulging even. Even my tongue seemed to have disappeared in some void abandoning my quivering frame.
He clenched his fists making popping sound echo in the tensed room. The cold room suddenly felt warm- too warm, as if the sun itself stood above it. Planting one of his knee on the huge bed he began inching closer to me.
Something kept trickling down my cheeks, but I had no idea what it was. Sweat? Tears?
I was scared.
To death.
His pupils were dilated as if in some trance, but I knew he was awake. Wide awake and clearly concious. I was frozen on my spot as he reached me it was as if everything in me was screaming at me to run away, but fear had paralyzed my legs and brain.
Clenching his jaw, he forwarded his hand brushing aside the hair sticking to my face. The smell of blood was stronger than ever.
Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.
Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful.
"Why are you crying, love?"
My breath hitched at his velvety voice as I hastily wiped my tears, too afraid to make him angrier than he already appeared. Too beautiful.
This man was the work of gods themselves. With two beautiful unalike eyes, a honed jaw, a sharp nose and lips than could make every woman, even a man sigh with dreamy ecstasy. Although he was the creation of perfection- he was lethal.
Beauty is terror. Everything we call beautiful, we quiver before it.
