The Cold Prince

7

Word Count: 1586

~Avila

"Please don't hurt me!" I shriek, pressing my back against the headboard.

He frowns a little, dark brows drawing together. He looks the picture of darkness, the shadows drenching him and his cloaked figure.

If there is any reason for a hooded figure to climb through my window at night, it's to kill me.

"Av, it's me," he soothes, approaching.

I hold my hands out in front of me, causing him to stop in his tracks. Whether I knew him before I lost my memory doesn't matter. There's something dangerous about him, which frightens away my curiosity.

"I know you-"

He cuts me off by approaching quickly. Before I can so much as scream, his wet, gloved hands grasp the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss.

I gasp. The pressure of his lips is a vaguely familiar feeling. His hand grips tightly to my neck, keeping me still. The feeling of being kissed, which is entirely foreign to me until now, is pleasant, although slightly terrifying.

Realisation hits me like a rock in the side of the head. Firmly planting my palms against the man's chest, I push him off me, sending him stumbling back a few steps. In the gap he leaves, I dash off the bed and to the corner of the room, putting as much distance between him and I as I can.

"Don't do that again," I snap, raising my fingers to brush against my lips.

I never thought about what kissing would be. The moment that man's lips touched mine, though, it all clicked into place.

"I missed you. I needed to see you." He wipes his hand down his face, clearly embarrassed at the rejection. "I know you hate when I come in here, but Lee told me you were alive and I had to see for myself."

"You...you snuck through my window." I stare at the glass, at the rain pushing against it. How he managed to scale up here is a wonder, but that's not what scares me the most.

"Just like old times." He smiles, his gaze dipping down to assess me. "How is it possible you're still alive?"

I'm not going to launch into a full scale explanation when I have no idea who he is. We were obviously lovers, but I need to know more than that.

"How do I know you?" I demand.

"How do..." He sighs, shaking his head. "Come on Av. Don't play with me."

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling awfully exposed in my bed clothes. He's so tall and is staring at me with eyes that I can only describe as sensual. Even if he is confused...

"I don't remember you, and yet I know that I know you," I say slowly, trying to wrap my head around it as I speak. "So who are you?"

"How can you not remember me?" His voice is soft, hurt.

"I died." I swallow thickly, my throat painfully dry. "But I'm alive again, and I lost my memory."

Various emotions pass over his face, shifting from one to the other so quickly I can't grab onto one. He's trying to make sense of what I'm telling him, that our past together is now gone from my mind forever.

If we were lovers, that must be incredibly difficult for him to process...

"How..." he stammers. "How is that possible?"

"We don't know," I say uncomfortably, rubbing the back of my neck. This would be a much easier exchange if I actually had some answers to tell him. Too bad I'm almost as in the dark as he is about this.