Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no...
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Winter
"Winter,"
The sound of a thick raspy voice followed by the feeling of a hand on my shoulder had me shooting right up, backing away, crawling away in panic. My heart leapt to my throat. It was dark in here, so dark that I couldn't see anything. My mind was so groggy.
It was the darkness, it was so dark and I was back there. I was here. I didn't remember them coming to get me. But then again, I never did. They were here to hurt me again. Just like they always did when it was dark—
"Hey, it's just me." His voice was soft. There were two hands placed on either side of my face, holding me still and steady as my body resorted to flight, I wanted to get as far away as possible from the touch. "Look at me. It's just me."
Harry. It was just Harry, I realised a second later.
Bringing both of my hands up, I rubbed the tiredness away from my eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. His eyes were bright even in a room with no lights on. The light from the hallway through the open door was the only thing illuminating the room. I was in his flat, his spare room. A bed. I was in a bed and nowhere else, it was fine. I was fine. They didn't have me.
"I—" My hand flattened against my chest, feeling my rapid heart rate. I took a breath, closing my eyes again. "Jesus."
"Not Jesus. Just me." He breathed a laugh, dropping his hands from my face, instead, holding onto both of my wrists. I was limp in his hold. He drew his thumbs across the backs of my wrist, "Forget where you are or something?"
I took another tired breath, my mind still trying to process what was going on. I had forgotten where I was, the past week had been a complete mess, my mind hadn't even properly processed what I was doing until Harry swung the door open. I'd slept over in his fucking apartment. I barely even remembered showing up. "Something like that."
"M'sorry I had to wake you up." He kept his voice soft, gentle. It felt like it was still the middle of the night. There didn't seem to be any form of sunlight coming from behind the curtains and I felt as if I could sleep for another twelve hours. With no concept of time, I had no idea how long I'd been asleep for.
"It's fine." I breathed, glancing down at his hands on my wrists, then back at his face. "You just scared me."
He was going somewhere. Sitting on the bed in front of me, he had on that black puffy jacket I'd seen him in before, black trousers and boots. His hair was back, tied up off his face into a bun with only a few baby hairs curling at the side of his face and poking out from the back of his neck.
"Dreaming? You sleep okay?" he asked me, "Until I scared the shit out of you, that is."
I nodded, darting my eyes around the room. I wanted him to stop touching me. "Yeah. Yeah I slept well."
