The Blonde and the 1920's (AHS James March)

Chapter 8

James would plot, hoping for the chance for any of them to become a reality. He was getting so frustrated and tired that he didn't even have a way to go about it anymore, he just wanted her dead.

As for her, she was growing rather fond of John's protection and being able to aggravate the man who tried to kill her. She could see it in his eyes every time she was around. She could walk up, wrap her arms around him and act as if they were best friends but the hate that pierced her was enough to make her want to stop.

At the moment, she was reading in one of his chairs, a clear glass filled with ember liquid in her hand.

Her eyes flicked up at the sound of the door closing. "Welcome back." she spoke quietly, flipping a page with her thumb and ignored the animalistic growl she got in return.

"Somebody seems to have had a bad day." she commented, lips curving into a slight smile. He glared at her, lips in a tight line that she guessed was what was keeping him from snapping on her.

She took a sip of the whiskey, enjoying the burning sensation it sent down her throat before putting her book aside and standing.

"James.." she cooed and he cut her off with a harsh voice. "You have not the slightest clue of how much I want to kill you. To feel your breath leaving your throat. I can just taste it, taste the fear in your eyes as you claw at my hands."

Every word is low, sending shiver after shiver up her spine but still she continues. "Have you forgotten already? I'm under John's watch, you cannot put any harm to me."

The next moment has her second questioning herself, his hand was around her neck, pinning her to the wall as the glass shattered below them. Instead of fear, she stared at him, reaching up to place a hand on his own around her throat. It fit as if it was supposed to be there. He slammed her back against the wall again and she let her hands fall.

"What makes you think John has any power over me? He is useless against me. I could strangle you at this very moment and the best he could do is scowl at me." his hissed, eyes darting up to hers, to taste her fear, savor it but found nothing.

Her eyes were dull and it annoyed him more than usual. Where was her struggling? Where was her begging him?

"You won't." she spoke softly and his hand tightened, she could only wince mentally at the feeling.

"What?"

"You won't." she repeated, voice choked and she felt his hand slightly release, giving her a short breath and chance to continue.

"You can't kill me. You have tried so much to no avail. You had the perfect moment to that night and you dropped the knife. For some reason, you won't allow yourself to kill me. Whatever that reason may be-"

He growled and dropped her, towering over her with such a deep burning hate in his eyes, his expression, his structure.

She looked up at him, watching him for any move or change of expression. All she got was him turning on his heel and walking out, the door rattling when slammed behind him.

Her eyes focused there for a few moments before going to her hands that were over several glass shards. She could see red staining the edges and rose her palms up, little glass shards tattooing her skin. Blood trailing down her fingers and landing on the wood floor, fading into mahogany.

She winced and stood, going to the bathroom sink and letting her hands rest under the water, watching the blood drain and little glass shards follow. As for the others, she removed and wrapped her hands up.

Crystal eyed the door, mind snapping to him. It was at that moment, she knew he wasn't an easy man.

He absolutely loathed her, there was no sympathy or compassion. Why? What had she done to receive so much?

She wrapped her hands up and upon hearing the door open, peaked out to see John.

"Crystal, are you alright?" She walked out, "Fine...why?"

He threw a glance to her hands and frowned before walking over, "Was this James' doing?"

She looked away shamefully, "I taunted him. It's only fair." Why was she standing up for him?

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering profanities, "I'm a cop...not a babysitter."

She nodded and looked down, "I'm sorry..."

"Just...be more careful. He's capable of more than you think." He then walked to the door, threw a worrying glance before vanishing.