The Wolverine & The Black Cat

55 // Mischief Managed

C H A P T E R   55 :   M I S C H I E F   M A N A G E D

"Devil, devil
Clever devil devil
How quickly they do sell their souls
For the feast and the promise of gold
But devil that won't be me

Devil, devil
Bones of metal metal
You torture saints with a single glance
Make them think they ever stood a chance

You take the shape of
Everything that I'm drawn to
But your eyes
Are dead and red
Red as rust"

Early June

It was one of those promising days of June when the sun shone through the clouds, claiming the sky and our skins for itself, the birds chirping casually on the treetops, the shadows of the wheeping willows spilling over the calm waters of the river. But it was still early in the morning, so despite the slice of sun the park received, it was cold, and not many people were seen around.

I had chosen this forgotten, peaceful place, away from the flood of curious tourists in Central Park, to wait for Logan, who was getting the last few details right at the mansion before we could finally go on our not-romantic-but-exclusively-exploratory trip.

I went to the only café in the park and sat outside on one of the tables of the terrace, alone. The few people that were indeed around were either inside the coffee shop or running or riding bikes on the trails with astonishing energy.

Morning people. No matter how many years passed, I'd never get them.

I asked for a Caramel Mocha to the waiter and leaned back on my chair, enjoying the beginning of my free time, the start of a new era in my life. I was determined to do better, to do good; but for now, I really just wanted to have fun, and I really just wanted it with Logan.

I inhaled deeply, absorbing the magnificent view and the scents of spring around me, the lotuses and the purple mallows, the water gently running around the rocks in the river, the wind rustling the willow's fallen leaves. It was a moment of pure beauty and peace, reminding me I could have them in my life if I just sat back long enough to notice and cherish them.

My eyes were closed, but I didn't hear him coming either.

"Excuse me, milady. May I sit here?"

My eyes opened abruptly upon the question, upon the historical, antique formality on it, and I felt myself being taken away from my moment of peace as soon as a shadow covered the sun that had been caressing my face. I immediately frowned. Even if I was immersed in the nature surrounding me, I should have heard his steps approaching me.

The first thing I noticed about the strange man in front of me was that his voice had a foreign accent to it, and his appearance didn't seem to belong in this country either, or this century. Wherever he went, I knew he'd stand out. He was just one of those people that naturally did, whether they intended it or not. A little bit like me.

The second thing I realized about him was that he was tall, very tall. To meet his eyes I had to look higher than I normally would with a regular person. He was wearing a black peacoat, black trousers and some black, fancy shoes. Underneath his peacoat, a dark green shirt lurked, and he had a grey scarf adorning his neck. This man definitely knew how to dress elegantly. He definitely knew what clothes to wear to make his attractiveness stand out even more.

Because hum, yeah, this guy was gorgeous.

He had a lean, slender body that reminded me of a snake, but beneath his classy clothes I could see how strong he was. His skin was as pale as snow, his hair was slicked back, so black a raven would be jealous.