Animalistic

22

I hadn't stopped when I left the room, not when he called out after me, not when I could hear his footsteps behind me, not when I reached "my" door, I simply threw it opened and tried to escape inside, throwing the door close behind me. There wasn't a slam though. I knew what that meant.

"Stop following me." I growled out, not turning around to face him.

"Savannah," His stupid smooth voice forced its way into my ear, like nails on a chalkboard. "I know you aren't thrilled about this, but-" his voice falls out when my eyes land on him. Leaning against the door frame, the should have been closed door still gripped in his right hand, his ugly green eyes peering back at my icy glare.

"Leave." I cross my arms to try and get the get the fuck away from me message across.

His deep red-ish brown slightly bushy brows pull together as his mouth sets into a grim line, the look didn't become him, putting a few extra years onto his features. "Savannah-"

"Don't say my name!" I don't mean to yell, it gives away too much, but I regain my composure quick enough, standing straighter, not breaking eye contact with him.

He simply lets out a pent up breath, not moving his monstrous eyes from mine, even as he pushes off from the frame, takes a step into the room and rigidly closes the door behind him. "You don't like me." I wasn't expecting that. At least he knows what's going on. But even if I couldn't admit it to myself, his gaze was growing far more intense with each passing moment. "I understand that." He continued. "But it doesn't give you the right to throw a tantrum."

I scoffed. It seemed the only right reaction to such a jab. "A tantrum? Oh, like when you blatantly punched Allen?" If he felt anything, he didn't let it show on his face, only standing his ground in front of the door, a few feet from me. "Well, excuse me for not being thrilled to have a mate," the word sounded like it was processed through a metal shredder before exiting my throat, "who cares about what people say about his little helpless property." Something flickered behind those radioactive eyes.

He was silent for a while, as was I. Ha. I got him.

"I didn't care about what he said about you." Denial, wow he's even more unattractive than ever. His rigid poster relaxes ever so slightly, his crossed arms dropping, his features softening ever so slightly. I was already celebrating victory in my head, so I almost didn't hear what he said next.

"You did."

Once it registered in my brain, it repeated and bounced around for a bit. I was...perplexed to say the least. I promised I'd never lie to myself, but I still said he was wrong. Suddenly, his eyes were less repulsive and were far worse--intrusive. I couldn't stand them any longer. My gaze flipped away, first to the door behind him, then a red-black blob within my peripheral vision caught my attention. They focused on the mass, on his hand. It didn't look good.

Enlarged at the knuckles, cuts along them as pressure had broken the skin and left three bleeding spots, surrounded by busing. He hadn't had any medical attention brought to them, obviously, he had to stand on that god forsaken stage next to me for the rest of the Ceremony, and then he stupidly followed me here. They hadn't healed yet either. Great, he also has no regard for his own health. He just gets worse and worse the more I observe.

"You need to go to Doctor's." I say, my eyes still on his hand. Hopefully he'll take the hint and leave.

He stretches his hand out, I watch it, afraid of what his eyes will see if I look at them again. After clenching and unclenching his fist a bit, testing it out he says "I'll be fine."

My eyes flick back to his. He can't be serious. So he's stubborn as well. "The wound still hasn't closed."

One of his eyebrows raises ever so slightly. "Either way, I'm not going to Doc's. It can heal on its own."