Ecstasy

09: Little Mouse

𝟎𝟗: 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

I was terrified, frozen in place as Chaos Salvatore stood right in front of me. My heart raced, and my thoughts tangled into a mess. I didn't know what to say, what to do—his presence was overwhelming, like the air itself had thickened around us.

He stared at me.

God, he just stared.

His eyes—those piercing grey eyes—drilled into mine, dragging down to my neck, lingering there like he was studying every inch of me. His gaze was predatory, a hawk zeroing in on its prey, and it made my skin prickle with unease. What was he looking for? The silence between us stretched on, growing louder with each passing second.

"What are you doing here at night?" His voice was low, rough, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down my spine. There was something dangerously sweet in it, like honey laced with poison. I could feel it creeping through my veins, stirring something I didn't understand.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. Why did he care what I was doing out at night? Did he think I was stalking him? Oh God, no. I wasn't stalking him! But my words failed me.

"I... I wasn't stalking, I promise," I stammered, my voice shaky, barely above a whisper. "I was just, uh..." My sentence died before I could finish. I couldn't tell him where I worked. I couldn't let him know anything about me.

The fear clawing at my chest was too much. I couldn't think straight. My mind screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn't move. His gaze darkened, and his thick eyebrows pulled together in a frown, like he was trying to piece together my mess of a response.

I wasn't lying—just holding back.

He ran a hand through his light hair, the movement slow, deliberate. I watched him, unable to look away. His eyes locked on mine again, and for a split second, I swore I saw something flicker behind them, something more than the cold, ruthless expression he usually wore. But maybe I was imagining it. I had to be.

He took a step closer, his presence suffocating in the dark alley. My breath hitched, and I instinctively stepped back, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped. His lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, but not a scowl either.

"Is that all?" he murmured, his voice low and smooth, but laced with something darker. His words hung in the air, heavy and accusing, but more like a challenge than an outright accusation.

My stomach twisted. Heat flooded my face as his words sank in. I wasn't lying but how could I explain myself to him?

He reached out slowly, and before I knew it, his fingers brushed the side of my neck. A shock of warmth shot through me at his touch, and I nearly gasped. His hand was gentle, contradicting everything I knew about him, everything I feared. He didn't move, just kept his hand there, his thumb lightly grazing my skin, like he was testing something. My pulse pounded beneath his fingertips, and I knew he could feel it, the rapid beat betraying just how scared I was.

For a second, neither of us moved. The world around us seemed to fade into the background. It was just me and him, standing in the dimly lit alley, his hand on my neck, his eyes locked on mine, as if he was trying to figure me out. It was maddening.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said quietly, his thumb brushing against my skin one last time before he pulled his hand away. His tone was almost... concerned? No, I must've been imagining it. Chaos Salvatore didn't care about anyone but himself.

I opened my mouth to respond, to say something—anything—but my voice caught in my throat. My legs felt like jelly. He had left me breathless, not with tenderness, but with the intensity of it all. This man, this dangerous, ruthless man, was looking at me like I was something more than just a face in the crowd.