"It's a simple question, Colton." The older man pressed the end of the gun against my bleeding forehead, his finger resting on the trigger as my fiancée glanced at me with a loveable gaze. "Your future darling or the city."
The look in his eyes qui...
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In the heart of a sprawling, silent library, I observed Angelica with a strange intensity. She had been my captive for five months, yet something about her—her kindness, her strength—was starting to chip away at my cold exterior.
"You fascinate me," I said softly, a husky whisper echoing through the room.
Angelica paused, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection of a dusty mirror. She held a battered book in her hands, her fingers tracing the ornate cover. "How so?" she asked, her voice equally hushed.
I watched her, a flicker of emotion crossing my usually impassive features. "I'm not quite sure," I admitted. "It's...unusual, you are still alive. I haven't killed you and you haven't killed yourself."
Angelica lowered the book and regarded me with cautious curiosity. She had initially been terrified of me, but as the days turned into nights, I believe she had begun to see glimpses of something beyond the hardened exterior I presented.
She smiles sweetly, placing the book back in its place before continuing down the aisle of books, "You haven't given me a reason to end it all." I follow her, taking small steps and keeping my distance from her.
"I'm depriving you of ever seeing your husband again, as well as depriving your freedom," I state. Instead of saying anything, she grabbed another book and flipped through the pages before stopping and began reading that page.
She was reading, her brow furrowed in concentration, a delicate hand tracing the words on the page. Like wind chimes dancing in a gentle breeze, her laughter had become a familiar soundtrack to my days. I'd once craved the screams of my victims, the desperate pleas for mercy. Now, I found myself hypnotized by the soft rustle of her dress, and the way her hair fell on her shoulders.
"You fascinate me, Lennox," she said, not looking at me but paging through the book she found, a grin on her face. The words hung in the air, a whisper in the library's stillness.
I approached her, curiosity tugging at me. "What makes me so fascinating?" I asked, my voice a low rumble, my usual gruffness softened by a hint of something unfamiliar.
Finally, she looked up at me, her bright, dark brown eyes holding my gaze. "I've been here for months," she began, her voice soft, but steady, "And I've been waiting for you to kill me. But instead of killing me, you've treated me with books, warm meals, a silky bed, and wonderful trips to the garden." She paused, her smile tinged with a hint of mischievousness.
She took a few steps closer to me, placing her hand against my chest, the warmth of her touch radiating through. I felt a pang in my chest, unfamiliar, unsettling.
"You leave me intrigued," she whispered, her breath tickling my skin.
I bring my hands to her waist and pull her closer, her chest pressing against mine as I use my other hand to lift her head a bit more. I held a smirk on my face and tightened my grip around her waist. "I can kill you now if that is what you want, Angel."
I watched as her eyes widened at the slightest. "But I wouldn't want you dead, now would I, my dear?"
The thought of her corpse in my arms, her blood staining my hands and face as I carelessly hold her to her pathetic husband. His cries of pain and sorrow eased my soul.
Then again, the thought of her death did not sit right with me. I couldn't imagine it anymore, the only thing I could think of was her.
