Crashing Down Into Flames

Chapter 21

Chapter Song: What Do You Want- Ex Habit

Monday- Night

-Cole-

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Red. That's the color I see when I walk into the room.

It isn't the color from the blinding sight of red LED light lining the wall, but it's the color that invades my vision when I see a man leaning over the bed on my woman about to put his pathetic excuse of a pecker inside her.

I knew it was her. From the moment I saw her emerald green eyes, to smelling her peppermint perfume all over again like it never left my room. But, I didn't want to make accusations until I found out myself; and now, seeing her with her eyes squeezed closed, face down to the sheets, and gripping the covers for her life as if she's silently praying for someone to save her, I have my proof.

It's no wonder I was attracted and intrigued with the stripper on the stage- it was her all along.

I pried his miserable for an excuse of a life off her and slammed his head against the wall with full strength. The crunching of his skull only satisfies that he's unconscious for a moment. His body crumbles to the floor like a bag of chips and the trickle of blood down his forehead comes from the new gash in his head. It's not even half what I want to do to him right now, but I don't have time.

I walk behind her. Her spine stiffens and a quiver leaves her lips, seeing my shadow and feeling my presence.

Although I love to see her in position, -her perfect ass in the air, tempting me and begging me to be inside it- this isn't the place, nor time, to do it. This bed is too small to do all the things I want to do to her and who knows how long ago these sheets have been washed. If I'm to have her this way, and I will, it will be in my office- in my building.

I'm a monster, not human.

I lift her black jean shorts, covering her bare ass. Her shorts are tight and require a sturdy pull to get up her hips- it's no wonder she jumps up and down when putting on her pants. I wrap my arms around her, lifting her straight with ease.

Her head and body whips around towards me and throws a punch -where the guy's head would be leveled- at my chest. Her punch is hard, but not strong and sturdy. She's punching with emotion and not with her full body.

She's still in protective mode which is good because even though I've taken care of the beast, the slayer is someone you should be more afraid of. After all, humans are more of a beast than a bear.

She quickly wipes away a tear -I doubt she knew was let loose- her eyes trailing up my body to meet almost mine, collecting who's in front of her.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She says while trying to hold her confidence.

"I should be asking you-" I stop midsentence, looking at her beautiful complexion.

Her hair dangles from a loose bun- some are all the way out, laying on her neck and shoulders. It makes me want to run my hand through that loose bun and pull it the rest of the way out. The only makeup that's covering her perfect face is black eyeshadow and black lipstick- a more natural look to reveal most of her real face. She looks fucking gorgeous even a mess. She makes looking like a mess a style to compete against, and I fucking love it. But, what I don't love is the damage done to her face.