lust
• noun: lust
1. very strong sexual desire.
"he knew that his lust for her had returned"
•verb: lust
a passionate desire for something.
She want haunted and hunted. Lost forever in a spiral of grief and sorrow.
(Previously known as the story Re...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-
Since that night at the asylum, I avoided Jacob, finding any excuse to to remove myself from the younger twin of assassins. My absence seemed to piqued Henry and Evie's interest as they asked a series of questions of my well being.
By this point my anger for Jacob had dissipated, only to be exchanged for anxiety. In the begining I would see Jacob, confusion and hurt laced on his face. His attempts to talk to me feeble. Now he just seems to ignore me, just as I ignored him.
Henry had assigned me to a couple of more assassinations, each and every one as agonizing as the last; dread always accompanied me. During each mission I would reminisce of the young Frye, remembering as he helped, making the task a little bit more bearable.
I entered the train car, the very one that I had indulged myself with drink not too long ago. The atmosphere was dull, missing the one man who seemed to bring life with every step he took. His seat now empty. I hadn't expected Jacob to be here, but since he wasn't, my heart sank in disappointment.
"There ya are, lass. I 'avn't seen ya in some while." Walter sat in the booth behind the bar stools, an ale in hand. His dark eyes raked down my form, stopping every so often to stare where he deemed fit.
"I've been keeping myself busy, is all."
Walter took a gulp of his ale, all the while never taking his eyes off of me. His glass meeting the surface to the table the only sound in the room. "Just like the boss, aye?" He flashed me a yellow grin, "Come sit, we've much to catch up on."
I sat in the weathered seat, the cracked green leather beneath me pinching my skin in the process. I used the discomfort as a distraction as I eyed Walter. Being around him made me uneasy, antispiation weaving in my chest.
But I wasn't about to let him know that.
I set my lips in a thin line waiting for him to start whatever he wanted to say to me, but he kept staring at me with predatory eyes. My mind wondered to why Jacob had recruited him, if he even meet all of his Rooks before inducting them into his gang. Which was hardly believable. There was no doubt in my mind that this man was more then what meets the eye.
"Ya seem tense. Is there somethin' botherin' ya, lass?" The older man drawled. Walter knew what he was doing, taking it to his advantage. He wanted to control the situation, wanting me to be intimidated.
I gave him a pretty, fake smile. "No, not at all. It seems my mind has been turning without permission." I clenched my jaw, biting my tongue.
Walter hummed in response and gave a gruff laugh to himself, "The mind is a wonderous thing, wouldn't ya agree?" The Rook took another gulp of ale messily as it slid down his chin and onto his green shirt. "Makes ya think what really goes on in there." He tapped the side of his shaved head.
