Bound to love |BxB|

Chapter 3

Atticus' POV
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Sometimes, I could bear a cute boy.

And this was it, this was the most adorable hunk I had ever seen. A tiny bird sitting on the top of his head, here and there its blue head peeking out to take a look at its surroundings. The man was exactly the same, skittishly moving his eyes up and down between the floor and me.

He had drawn his shoulders and head in, his whole body tenser than a brick wall.

It was hard to look away from him.

His hair was equivalent to coal, sharing the same dusky black colour. No shades or light refracted from the perfectly round curls, not even the glimmers of the sun that shone into the room through the windows. But his skin was the contrary, being as pale as snow, reflecting all of the summery daytime's rays in beautiful orangish and yellowish tones.

He was glowing, partially thanks to the obvious workout that had left him a big, sweaty mess. I wasn't complaining though, oh no. It was a fucking gift from the Gods, every single peck of his sculpted muscles showing through his thin, white tank top. It left little to no space for imagination, my body crooning with complacency.

A touch, a taste– I would give anything.

None of that could be compared with his eyes though; nothing could make my heart scramble like that tenderness and brittleness I saw in them. Bluer than the sky or the lively rivers surrounding this castle, and more expressive than any amount of words could ever be.

Those dainty orbs weren't a shade, a tone or a tinge, they were a colour you couldn't name. They were simply ethereal.

And despite being gentle and coyful, I wasn't the one to fall into that trap. I could see the smallest shift in them when he first laid his gaze on me, the dark shadow that passed through them like a wave.

I couldn't tell what it was, but I knew that it excited me. He wasn't all that simple, all that docile. There had to be something hidden.

It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, now his exterior turning more and more inward. He was building wall after wall around himself after I mentioned that scar on his face, the smallest bit of perplexity taking over my sharp features.

I had never seen someone so... interesting.

Like a little pup, but in the size of two grown men. How come is he so delicate? Scars everywhere you laid your eyes on, fear embedded into every movement. What had happened to him?

Ronan had told me that his older brother had had a tough childhood, but he never shared more about it. The Royal family wasn't a topic in my village either.

It didn't look like those attacks I had seen at our farms, the cuts were too clean and organized for a wild animal. So maybe the better question was, who had done this to him? He was a warrior though, so maybe he had earned them fighting.

Thus it didn't bother me.

"It suits you, it really does. I'm not trying to mock you."

A raspy chuckle left my throat as I stepped closer, the werewolf making sure we still had the exact same distance between us. Playing chess with the tiles under our feet.

I could feel the jolt of pain in my right foot, but I was tamed enough for no reaction. I never let it seep through, the same foxy smile on my lips permanently drawn on.

I wasn't sure if this man appreciated my straightforwardness any more than my advancing proximity, his eyes glued to the cane on my hand. It wasn't that shocking, they all did that. But right now I wanted him to look at me.