My Ruination

Chapter 15.

In the last chapter, we read that Maahira is alone at the mansion after the robbery when she hears a noise. She discovers that the noise was made by her husband who returned after almost 2 days but he is not alone. He has brought the body of the guy along who tried to hurt her and recreated her small injury on his entire body.

~Maahira~

I couldn't stop gawking down at the blood left on the floor after Markov dragged the body out. I always assumed that black was the darkest of all colors. Because it wasn't even a color, it was a void. It existed beyond the visibility range of shallow human eyes and cloaked every darkness within itself. That is until I saw red. Specifically the red of blood. The metallic smell permeating smelt different to different people, hardly ever same. For me this blood smelt of maliciousness, of foul intentions and fear. Pure, undiluted fear a man could ever expierence in his last moments. It was as if the black parted it's cloak and let him see what resided in the darkness.

So, yes, while black was the most intense of shades, red was a trickster. And when they worked in a companionship, they were destructive and maddeningly powerful.

I waited for my stomach to roll, for nausea to overtake me and disgust poking on my skin as goosebumps but none of that happened. Absolutely nothing. But still, there was something. I momentarily recognized it as relief. The skin-chilling, bone-deep sense of relief like I had just walked out from under a huge boulder and taken my first real breathe. I was relieved. I was even a little thankful to Zaeden for taking this away from me, something I would never have asked him to otherwise.

"Why did you do that? Because he stole from you?" I asked, my whispered words a phantom in the darkness. What if he said yes? What if the robbery was the main reason? That would be okay, too. Two birds with one stone. Am I really comparing murder to birds and stone now?

He begun rubbing restless little circles on the wound with his thumb, the rest of the four fingers pressed at the back of my neck. His hand was rough and calloused as if reminding me that the gentility was nothing but a delusion. "Look at me, Maahira." He said, in a deep husky baritone, a little shaky though from the adrenaline rush. I didn't want to. I wasn't scared of Zaeden. I had hardly ever been scared of Zaeden but he was always the one I was going to be wary of. The one who would steal and lock all my attention to himself whenever he was around, the one who would invoke my morbid curiosity and make me question everything I had learned about myself over the years.

"If you don't turn your head right..." My head immediately snapped towards him, our eyes locking into each other and I swear something so fiery and electric sparked between us, it was brighter than light radiating from the chandelier overhead. It is now that I was so close to him for the first time, I witnessed that his amber eyes had some forest green strokes in them, giving them a little mystical appearance. The shadows on his face made his presence more terrifying and his edges cutting and spiky.

He released a deep breath that he had probably been holding in without realizing. Did he just forget his words? No, he was too efficient for that stumbling-fumbling rubbish.

"Do you think it was money that made me so murderous? That made me abandon my work and my son just to have my hands painted with a thieving bastard's blood? Money that kept me away from you? Hmm?"

The questioning assertion in his words were only rhetorical and the answer was gradually no. He didn't do it for his money or his precious jewellery. He possibly didn't even know exactly how much loss he had incurred. I was the reason for the blood on his hands and retrieving the money from the gang was just a nice surprise, never the motive. I stayed silent.

"No one gets to touch you, to hurt you or threaten your life and live to see another day. Not your family, not some random robbers. He made the mistake of planning a heist with you as his bargaining chip so I showed him the consequences. I sliced him open until he screamed and paid for every minute of your fear with his blood."

My heart skipped a several few beats and everytime it started beating again, it felt all wrong and misplaced. No. This cannot be happening to me. Lord, no. He might have done this for me but the reasons weren't what my jumbled-up heart was trying to interpret. He was just overly possessive and was very territorial on what was his. The beats had gotten even more off-track with that acceptance that 'I was his'. Holy Mother of Moses.

"You are a horrible, horrible person." I said, my voice a little groggy and shaken. His thumb paused at my throat, just a little away from the tape, at my pulse point. Could he understand the defects shown my traitorous heart? Surely not. "I am." He supplied, "And I am going to do horrible things to you."

Before I could dissect or think about his words, the hand that was on my throat ripped away the tapes covering my cut, tugging at my skin and exposing the cut. He dumped the adhesive tape and the small cotton on the floor like they meant nothing. "This is possibly going to leave a scar forever but the next time you see the scar, I don't want you to think of him. I want you to think of me." With that, he closed his arms around my middle, pulling me and dived towards my throat.

I could feel his mouth on my cut, a long lick that made the half-healed cut burn. With biological reactions or chemical reactions, that I had no idea about. I let my arms rest on his bicep and shoulder, the muscle feeling strenuous and herculean to my touch.

His hot breath fanned my neck and his own scent, masked by a slight hint of cologne infused into my senses like a drug, sending it in an overdrive. Just a lick of tongue and I felt like I was bursting open at the seams because how excess that was.

I had barely registered all of this when I felt a foreign sensation invade me as he sunk his teeth into my flesh, right at the cut, probably reopening the wound and drawing blood. He was biting me. What in the name of vampire lord is this. I subconsciously tried to push him away and he squeezed me in closer, my torso flush against his chest, so close, I could feel every single strain and movement of his body.

The bite were small sized, like nibbles, so he does it again, changing his angle. I whimpered, in pain or with pleasure I wasn't sure. "You can take it, Maahira. You have to take it." He coaxed, absolutely unbothered to my reaction to his animalistic activity. He bit me about five to six times more and I couldn't do anything except taking it.

After what felt like only a minute, he retreated his head, glaring down at his creation satisfactorily and swiping his tongue over his teeth, no wonder cleaning my blood from them. I couldn't understand how that single act was so sensual, I imagined his mouth had been at a different part of my body, the part that drew all my sensations towards itself, even ignoring the pain at my throat from his bites.

This is getting way out of hands. I shoved at him again and this time, he released me. Yes, distance is what I need to have first. So why does my body have to revolt immediately after he gave me space? The warmth, the pressure and the desire felt shamefully good. "How dare you?" I questioned, a little sarcastically and a lot aggressively.

"Are you pretending you didn't like that?" The corner of his mouth hitched up slightly to an evil smirk, infuriating me with myself only further. "Or should I shove my hand into your panties and check for your actual reaction?"

The word panties sounded so...dirty and indecent on his tongue but if he were to put his hand anywhere near there, I don't think I could live with the humiliation of what he would find. "You are a monster." I said and crossed my arms at my chest.

"I am a monster and you belong to this monster. So run away. Go hide under your bed and do not let me find you. Not tonight, atleast." I turned my back at him and marched back up the stairs, a thrilling sensation strumming in my veins.