Two Delirious (Delirious x reader) (Book 2)

Interest.

Delirious.

Amazing she can turn a man to stone with just her voice. That soft conflicted voice. Her stare was worse as she chased me. Something almost animal, almost instinctual. Her eyes, almost predatory, seemed to cause something in me to want to make her mine. Again. NO. Jonathan, don't think about wanting the person who has a death wish out for you. But my body made it easy to want her even more specially since I'm torn between wanting her and fearing her. Something I don't do for anyone.

Bam. I was slammed into the wall by my almost feline lover. Why can't I think straight right now. Wait she isn't my lover she's my... She isn't mine. Her body pressed into me as I am turned around. Her voice held it's preditory glow as she spoke, "You may be fast but I'm smarter..." Her voice seething with confliction. That is when it hit me. I saw her blood seeping through the shirt I lent her. She won't let it heal! She tore her wound open when she lunged for me. The only thing I can do at this moment was just blink. What if she did it when she turned. There it so much blood it could've been sooner than that. Much sooner.

"Ooh, I see taking that turn would've been better." I say, seductively. What the hell is wrong with me. She looks at me as confusion shot through her beautiful e/c eyes. What... No. Not again.

"Yea I would've still caught you..." She kept her smile stern, but short lived.

"And I would've let you, my Kitten."

She growled and grabbed her side. Something was hurting her worse than an open wound. what happened? Was she shot? Was she hurt? Why is she in so much pain? She couldn't speak anymore but forced herself to when I looked worryingly at her pained figure. "Go home, Delirious..." And she's back... the gangster that wanted to kill me but save me was back. And she didn't want me near her. What had I done to her... Except try to kill her, I had no control over my body and now I'm haunted by it. SHE'S HAUNTED by it. A quick flash of images melted into my brain when I shake my head.

"I'm sorry kitten but I can leave you to die in this alleyway." My voice sounded surreal. Almost like my soul was tied in knots, just hearing her pain residing through her body. Something wasn't right with me, but she needed help. I picked her up and carried her to my house. She was soon unconscious in my room and I knew she wouldn't wake up for a while. So I did the opposite of what I almost did three years ago, I bandaged her, and nursed her back to health. She wouldn't die to someone else's hand. She won't die Infront of me either.  And I won't force my emotions on her again. I have to calm the beast. I won't do what I nearly had done years ago. Not now, not ever. I gulp and peal my bloody shirt from her bodice. Something I haven't don't intentionally in a long time. Her beauty now scarred from wages of war no longer needed to be fought. Yet she fought them anyway. If I'm known for killing several people, what does that make her if she does it on a daily basis? What can she say if she kills people, who probably have families now?

All broken hearted, I watch as she slept with ease. What is it about this that makes me happy to see her. Happy to see that sleeping figure, happy to see her h/c hair moving across her eyes when her head slumps. Happy to see her sleeping body moving slightly after I fix her up and bandage her. Something that made me a little too happy... Shit... Not again.