His Dark Dark Secret

Prologue

Dedicated to my dog Jojo, for being there when I needed to pet something, for just being so damn cute and also for charming the socks off me. You make my world you labrador<3 

Hey to you if you're reading this!(:

So... This is a story that I would like very much to complete. Unfortunately, due to my big assed writer's block, I'm not sure I can. Maybe having readers would encourage me not to disappoint, you know? And since you're a reader now, don't give up on this story. It means so much:D

So... 3, 2, 1...

Here we go.

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=Prologue=

In the dream, he was kissing me. 

His mouth was soft and warm, and sent little shivers of delight fluttering down my spine. As I kissed him I reveled: Reveled that only he could make me feel this way, could make my heart explode and fall in tiny ribbons, could kiss me senseless like a pro. But most of all, I reveled that he was mine.

"You know," he mummured against my lips, "I don't think I've ever kissed you quite this long before." "Nonsense," I replied. "Your definition of long is so different from mine." He didn't reply, and instead parted my lips with his, and kissed me soft and slow. I moaned and pushed myself closer to him, so close that not even air could squeeze through. His hands were gentle, and so were his lips, but gentle was not what I wanted right now. He seemed to get that when I fisted my hands in his copper hair- he had he most beautiful copper hair- he changed in an instant, matched up to my mood, so that now, we were more than even. Desire rippled through me, and I was about to suggest a bed when he- Hunter, that was his name- paused and leaned away from me. 

"What?" I asked worriedly. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." His voice was odd. 

"Then why aren't you kissing me?" 

He ignored this and instead reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a gleaming knife. It was long and strangely beautiful in its own way. I had no idea how it could fit in his jeans pocket, and I also had no idea what he was doing with it. 

"Hunter," I said nervously, prodding him with my index finger as if he were a specimen. "Hunter."

He held the knife at an angle such that it glinted, reflecting light. I could see myself in it- eyes wide and scared looking, face pale and uncertain. He held the knife higher, admiring it with a glazed look in his eyes, then his gaze shifted to me. 

"Zhalia, Zhalia." He said my name like a prayer. "I love you. You know that, right?"

I nodded slowly, not sure what else to say.

"You know I'd kill for you, right?"

"Kill?" I echoed. "What about die?"

He chortled and one eyebrow slanted up in an eerie way, before he flicked the knife forward and sliced a shallow cut on the bare skin of my stomach, uncovered because my tank top was riding above my hips. I watched the cut well up with blood in slow motion, and then the droplets oozed themselves out and floated dreamily to the floor. I felt no pain, but suddenly my heartbeat thudded too loud in my ears, there was a pounding in my head and I felt sick. I shoved Hunter away with dreamlike slowness, and exclaimed, "What the hell, Hunter?"

He grinned like a skull. "I told you I'd kill for you," he said, and with in a smooth, precise motion drove the knife through my belly, all the way up to the hilt, like I was made of paper. I stumbled and collapsed, feeling numbness, shock and betrayal. Hunter smiled, and his eyes which were framed with lashes so thick they seemed to weigh down his eyelids twinkled with the sort of light a murderer possessed before he killed you. But I wasn't looking at his eyes. I was looking at his teeth. 

Because where his canines were, there were gleaming, monstrous fangs. 

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Whew! Took me forever to write that. 

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