Serpentine Desires

The prey

He was looking at me. 

Unshielded hunter's eyes, staring right through my soul and piercing me as if he could demolish me whole. I shifted unconsciously on my feet, trying to ignore the sensation of my wet jeans clinging to my legs. The cold I felt seeped deeper than the damp fabric or the snow that had gotten inside my jacket. It was his gaze that truly chilled me to the bone.

I wondered what was happening in his head, and the chilly wind didn't help either. It took everything in me to shut that window. And wasn't he feeling cold, wearing just a robe like yesterday? At least he had the modesty to tie it up. 

I had to jump the wall and eat the snow. Just great. He didn't have the damn modesty to hire a gatekeeper. Twenty freaking minutes I had to stand there yelling like a mad woman. Anyway. 

I averted my eyes unable to hold his predatory gaze and observed my surroundings.

The room was spacious and even larger than the office we were in yesterday. How rich was this man? The high ceilings, adorned with a grand crystal and gold chandelier, mirror the ceiling like an endless black hole. The dark marbled floors veneered with gold designs and covered with plush Persian rugs, felt luxurious under my dirty shoes. Was he mad I stepped onto his posh rug with my snow-covered shoes? But he couldn't see, then what got him so riled up? 

The king-sized four-poster bed draped in rich burgundy silk stood. Antique armchairs and a velvet sofa surrounded a marble table with books and a crystal vase of fresh flowers.

Art in gilded gold frames adorned the walls. Like seriously, now I wonder what good deeds he did back in his life to swim in money.

I unconsciously stepped to the side when my eyes caught the small shimmering object on the shelf. A golden birdcage. It was small, too small for any bird, but it was beautiful with shimmering crystals over the dome and door. A faint smile touched my lips. Cages were lovely unless we were inside them rather than admiring them from outside.

I was so immersed in admiring that I didn't notice the movements in my periphery. It took me off-guard when someone knocked on the door. I almost dropped the cage with a sudden yelp. Standing straight, I looked at the door. A middle-aged woman walked in with a cart. I looked at her and then at the Satan sitting on the couch.

He tilted his head, his eyes now distant, looking straight, without any focus. I nibbled on my lips as the woman rolled the cart towards the table, and stopped. She stepped back and bowed politely.

"Ваш ужин, сэр." He haughtily flicked his hand dismissing her tersely. The woman bowed again, and without looking at me, she walked out before closing the door.

(Your dinner, sir,)

I narrowed my eyes feeling pity for the woman and exceptional abhorrence for him. There was no need for him to be rude.

And why was he not eating?

He is blind, Seraphina. I reminded myself again and awkwardly cleared my throat.

That seemed to catch his attention, cause he snapped his head at me, this time his eyes were unfocused. He casually leaned back on the couch and spread his legs wide exposing his thick, muscled thighs and long legs. His arms carelessly spread over the back of the sofa and he curved his lips.

"Come close," My cheeks flared with embarrassment and I averted my eyes to anywhere but at his legs. Why the hell was I behaving like a man in the Victorian era glimpsing a woman's legs for the first time? Oh, God. This man had no shame. What if he mistakenly flashed his.... His.... that...damn! I couldn't even think about that—my poor eyes.